Lazybones
Hero
Well, self-published, anyway. My fiction is available at Smashwords and the Amazon Kindle store.
[D&D 5e 2024] Heroes of the Borderlands
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Lazybones
Hero
Chapter 43
Greghan shook his head, looking around at the chaotic aftermath of the temple battle. His eyes finally focused on Leana, who had grabbed Folgar’s healing kit and was using its to stabilize the stricken dwarf. “I… that woman, she… are you all right?”
“I will be,” Leana said without looking up. “We don’t have much time.”
“Yeah, get it together,” Ravani said. “We still have undead here. Leana, how long will that magic of yours last?”
“Not much longer,” she said. “Be sure to take on one at a time; once you hit them, the turning will end. Start with the skeletons.”
The two men did just that; Ravani shooting first and then letting Greghan draw them to him. By the time that they’d shattered the two remaining skeletons and started on the zombies Leana was able to join them, using her sacred flame to blast through their undead fortitude. The last zombie got within a few feet of Greghan before the warrior took its head off. “Now… what?” he asked, breathing hard.
“We need to get Folgar somewhere…” Leana said, but she abruptly trailed off, her head coming up.
“What is it?” Greghan asked, looking around warily. He didn’t hear anything, but Ravani nodded and said, “We’ve got company. Protect them,” gesturing toward Leana and Folgar.
Walking stiffly, his leg still bleeding where the skeleton had stabbed him, the elf walked over to the limp and bloody form of Ivlis. Her robe had concealed the bloodstains from her many wounds, but Leana’s final blow had left her face covered in a mask of blood.
A moment later, the curtain along the east wall parted, revealing four cultists clad in red with the short, sickle-shaped blades they’d encountered in the woods. They took in the scene of destruction: the hacked up undead, the toppled bell, the mangled corpse of Narthus next to it. They saw Leana and Greghan, standing protectively in front of their fallen friend, magical light shining brightly again from the halfling’s sigil.
And they saw the bloody form of Ivlis, which Ravani pulled up by her hair, his magic sword in his other hand. “You’re a bit late to the party,” he said. “I suggest you get the hell out of here, if you don’t want to join your dead bosses here.”
The four cultists shared a look, and then they ran.
“Are you sure we should just let them go?” Greghan asked once they were gone.
Leana let out a tired sigh, grimacing as she touched her acid-seared cheek. “The cult is broken,” she said. “And as Folgar would say, if he were awake, we’re in no shape for another fight.” She looked toward Ravani. “Make sure they left.” The elf nodded and followed the departing cultists, sliding his sword back into his scabbard and readying his bow as he went.
“You can’t heal him?” Greghan asked, looking down at the hastily-bandaged form of Folgar. His robes were seared black where Ivlis’s fiery blast had struck him.
“I’m completely tapped out,” Leana said. “But he’ll be all right. Once I’ve taken a short rest, I should be able to channel more of the Lightbringer’s power, enough to bring him around.”
“And heal yourself,” Greghan said.
She smiled as she settled to the floor next to the unconscious dwarf. “Yes,” she said. “Don’t worry, Greghan. We’ve won.” She leaned back, settling her head against Folgar’s leg.
Greghan didn’t look like he fully believed her, but as she closed her eyes he took up a position behind them, ready to keep watch for as long as was needed.
Game Notes:
I decided that Ravani’s Intimidation check would get advantage due to the circumstances; he rolled a natural 1 and a natural 20. Though I expect they could have defeated the remaining cultists, if it had come to it. At this point Greghan had 15hp, Ravani 10, Leana 2, and Folgar 0.
Next week: wrapping up.
Greghan shook his head, looking around at the chaotic aftermath of the temple battle. His eyes finally focused on Leana, who had grabbed Folgar’s healing kit and was using its to stabilize the stricken dwarf. “I… that woman, she… are you all right?”
“I will be,” Leana said without looking up. “We don’t have much time.”
“Yeah, get it together,” Ravani said. “We still have undead here. Leana, how long will that magic of yours last?”
“Not much longer,” she said. “Be sure to take on one at a time; once you hit them, the turning will end. Start with the skeletons.”
The two men did just that; Ravani shooting first and then letting Greghan draw them to him. By the time that they’d shattered the two remaining skeletons and started on the zombies Leana was able to join them, using her sacred flame to blast through their undead fortitude. The last zombie got within a few feet of Greghan before the warrior took its head off. “Now… what?” he asked, breathing hard.
“We need to get Folgar somewhere…” Leana said, but she abruptly trailed off, her head coming up.
“What is it?” Greghan asked, looking around warily. He didn’t hear anything, but Ravani nodded and said, “We’ve got company. Protect them,” gesturing toward Leana and Folgar.
Walking stiffly, his leg still bleeding where the skeleton had stabbed him, the elf walked over to the limp and bloody form of Ivlis. Her robe had concealed the bloodstains from her many wounds, but Leana’s final blow had left her face covered in a mask of blood.
A moment later, the curtain along the east wall parted, revealing four cultists clad in red with the short, sickle-shaped blades they’d encountered in the woods. They took in the scene of destruction: the hacked up undead, the toppled bell, the mangled corpse of Narthus next to it. They saw Leana and Greghan, standing protectively in front of their fallen friend, magical light shining brightly again from the halfling’s sigil.
And they saw the bloody form of Ivlis, which Ravani pulled up by her hair, his magic sword in his other hand. “You’re a bit late to the party,” he said. “I suggest you get the hell out of here, if you don’t want to join your dead bosses here.”
The four cultists shared a look, and then they ran.
“Are you sure we should just let them go?” Greghan asked once they were gone.
Leana let out a tired sigh, grimacing as she touched her acid-seared cheek. “The cult is broken,” she said. “And as Folgar would say, if he were awake, we’re in no shape for another fight.” She looked toward Ravani. “Make sure they left.” The elf nodded and followed the departing cultists, sliding his sword back into his scabbard and readying his bow as he went.
“You can’t heal him?” Greghan asked, looking down at the hastily-bandaged form of Folgar. His robes were seared black where Ivlis’s fiery blast had struck him.
“I’m completely tapped out,” Leana said. “But he’ll be all right. Once I’ve taken a short rest, I should be able to channel more of the Lightbringer’s power, enough to bring him around.”
“And heal yourself,” Greghan said.
She smiled as she settled to the floor next to the unconscious dwarf. “Yes,” she said. “Don’t worry, Greghan. We’ve won.” She leaned back, settling her head against Folgar’s leg.
Greghan didn’t look like he fully believed her, but as she closed her eyes he took up a position behind them, ready to keep watch for as long as was needed.
Game Notes:
I decided that Ravani’s Intimidation check would get advantage due to the circumstances; he rolled a natural 1 and a natural 20. Though I expect they could have defeated the remaining cultists, if it had come to it. At this point Greghan had 15hp, Ravani 10, Leana 2, and Folgar 0.
Next week: wrapping up.
Lazybones
Hero
Chapter 44
Leana sat in the quiet of the private garden behind the temple, trying to put her jumbled thoughts into order. The sheer mass of the Keep’s curtain wall felt reassuring, as did the majestic outlines of the temple itself. Her eyes drifted to the spot where Fazzir had shown her the graffiti left by the cult what felt like years ago. She now knew what that vandalistic art was supposed to represent. She would not soon forget how it had felt touching the Chaos Bell, when they’d packed it up to bring with them once they’d cleared out the cult headquarters and recovered enough to make the return journey. Leana had been tense the entire trip, expecting an attack from the cultists they’d let escape or some other mishap, but the road had remained clear until they had seen the towers of the Keep off in the distance. She hadn’t fully relaxed until they were within those walls.
Perhaps not even then, she thought, taking a deep breath and letting it slip from her body. She held out a hand and wasn’t surprised when it trembled. The freshly-healed skin on the side of her face and neck still felt taut, unfamiliar; it itched sometimes and she had to resist the urge to scratch it. She closed her eyes, letting the smells of the flowers and the subtle buzzing of the bees fill her senses. The angle was wrong to get and direct sunlight this early, but even the morning chill was something to feel, something other than…
Her eyes popped open, and she started when she saw she wasn’t alone. She hadn’t heard any sounds of someone approaching, even though he was standing in the crushed gravel of the path. The new arrival was a halfling, like her barely three feet tall, but he was clad in black garments that fit his body like a glove, the whole covered by a plain brown cloak with a cowl pulled forward to conceal the upper half of his face. But Leana didn’t need to see his face to recognize him.
“Jann!” she said, shooting to her feet. She started to go to him, but stopped when he held up a hand.
“I go by Jacko now,” he said.
“Jacko… No, surely you don’t still blame yourself for…”
“For his death? No more than you do, mother. Perhaps it is an homage, keeping his memory alive, in a way.”
“You were working for the chaos cult,” Leana said.
“I work for a lot of unsavory types,” Jacko said. “I didn’t share their views, but their gold is good.”
“You were there, on the road. If I hadn’t been there… would you have killed the others?”
He didn’t respond, and after a moment her face fell. “Oh, Jann…”
“Enough,” he said. “I didn’t come here to reminisce. You promised you wouldn’t come after me.”
“I didn’t,” she said. “I didn’t even know you were out here. I came for…”
“Another of your crusades, yes. A successful one, I hear. Though I didn't shed any tears for Pral, or Narthus, or Ivlis. The so-called bandit lord was sloppy, and the latter two were just crazy.”
“J—Jacko, come back with me to Hibberton. Please. It’s not too late…”
“Come back with you?” the younger halfling asked, his voice bitter. “You’d give up your crusade for me, then?”
“Without hesitation,” she said.
“Tempting,” he said. “That would break you, perhaps even more than Jack’s death did. But I won’t carry that on my conscience.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I failed you, my son.”
“Don’t,” he said. “I want your pity even less than your religion, or your regret. Probably for the best that you forget I was even here.”
“I will never forget you,” she said. Jacko didn’t respond, the moment stretching out between them until it was interrupted by the creak of the gate that led out into the street, followed by the crunch of heavy footsteps. Leana turned that way reflexively, and when she turned back, the other halfling was gone.
She let out a heavy sigh and slumped back onto the bench as Greghan came around the corner of the temple. The swordsman looked hale, though dark circles still haunted his eyes.
“Leana,” he said. “The Curate said you were… are you all right?”
Cursing her face for betraying her, she wiped her tears and slid over to make room for him on the bench. “I will be,” she said. “It’s been… a difficult couple of days.”
“It has at that,” he said, coming over to sit beside her. He was clad in his old armor again, the battered mail looking dingy in contrast to Winvarle’s resplendent magical plate. He certainly no longer looked like a farmer, and he didn’t feel like it, either. Leana grieved a bit for the man who had been lost, even as she was grateful for what the new man had accomplished.
“Have the Castellan’s people learned anything more from their captive?” Leana asked.
“If they did, they didn’t say anything when I returned the armor,” Greghan said, frowning. They had already learned a good deal about the operations of the cult. Ivlis might have been crazy, but she’d kept decent records; the documents they’d found in the cult’s cave headquarters had revealed both of her contacts in the Keep. The innkeeper, Haldryck, must have gotten word somehow, or perhaps had just had a good sense of danger, for he’d decamped with his business’s cash box shortly before they had returned to the Keep. The other agent, one of the Castellan’s guards, hadn’t been so lucky; he’d been taken into custody almost immediately after their arrival. Leana couldn’t blame Winvarle for keeping his cards close to his chest, after learning how deeply the cult’s corruptive influence had extended into his citadel.
“Did you find anything in the temple archives?” Greghan asked.
“I think so,” she said. “Fazzir is still coming to grips with the fact that his predecessor at the temple was the cult leader.” That was another fact that the documents had revealed; Ivlis had had quite a few things to say about the Keep in the mad ravings recorded in her journals.
“That woman was insane,” Greghan said. He shuddered.
“Yes,” Leana said. “That can happen, when people let their lust for power overcome their faith.” She shifted and let out another heavy breath, trying to regain some of the equilibrium she’d lost earlier. “I found some references to a magical spring located in the woods,” she said. “Fazzir agrees that there might be a way to employ a magical ritual to destroy the chaos bell.”
“Good,” Greghan said. “I want nothing to do with that kind of magic.”
She reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you, Greghan.”
“For what?”
“For everything.”
“Well,” he said, suddenly embarrassed. “I guess we’ll hear a lot of that tonight, at the Castellan’s banquet.”
“It’s one of the perks of this business,” Leana said. “On those occasions when you can actually do some good.”
“Is that what we did, Leana?”
She took his hand in both of hers. “Yes,” she said firmly. “Yes, Greghan. Never doubt that.”
“What were you thinking of doing next?” he asked. “After destroying the bell, of course. Ravani and Folgar, they were talking about this place they heard of in the south, some sort of hidden citadel built by two former adventurers, a warrior and a wizard. Ravani seems to think there’s a vast treasure that waits within the complex, and Folgar is interested in finding more spells for his book.”
Leana was about to ask him what he thought about the idea, but she caught his eye and hesitated. A few minutes ago, she had been ready to give it all up and go home, to disconnect from the new life she had built for herself. She felt that Greghan was likewise standing on a cusp, in need of a path, a purpose. She could understand, knowing the reassurance that simple faith could give to a person who felt adrift in life. That recognition made her realize that her job here wasn’t finished, that she needed them as much as they needed her. “I think an expedition south could be just the thing,” she said. She stood, hopping down off the bench. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up and ready for the Castellan’s party.”
Game Notes:
I didn’t use all of the character background ideas I noted down when outlining this story, but “Leana is Jacko’s mom?” was too good to pass up.
I thought about writing out the details of the final audience, which is the last scene detailed in the adventure, but I had a different idea for an epilogue, which will be the final entry in the story.
Leana sat in the quiet of the private garden behind the temple, trying to put her jumbled thoughts into order. The sheer mass of the Keep’s curtain wall felt reassuring, as did the majestic outlines of the temple itself. Her eyes drifted to the spot where Fazzir had shown her the graffiti left by the cult what felt like years ago. She now knew what that vandalistic art was supposed to represent. She would not soon forget how it had felt touching the Chaos Bell, when they’d packed it up to bring with them once they’d cleared out the cult headquarters and recovered enough to make the return journey. Leana had been tense the entire trip, expecting an attack from the cultists they’d let escape or some other mishap, but the road had remained clear until they had seen the towers of the Keep off in the distance. She hadn’t fully relaxed until they were within those walls.
Perhaps not even then, she thought, taking a deep breath and letting it slip from her body. She held out a hand and wasn’t surprised when it trembled. The freshly-healed skin on the side of her face and neck still felt taut, unfamiliar; it itched sometimes and she had to resist the urge to scratch it. She closed her eyes, letting the smells of the flowers and the subtle buzzing of the bees fill her senses. The angle was wrong to get and direct sunlight this early, but even the morning chill was something to feel, something other than…
Her eyes popped open, and she started when she saw she wasn’t alone. She hadn’t heard any sounds of someone approaching, even though he was standing in the crushed gravel of the path. The new arrival was a halfling, like her barely three feet tall, but he was clad in black garments that fit his body like a glove, the whole covered by a plain brown cloak with a cowl pulled forward to conceal the upper half of his face. But Leana didn’t need to see his face to recognize him.
“Jann!” she said, shooting to her feet. She started to go to him, but stopped when he held up a hand.
“I go by Jacko now,” he said.
“Jacko… No, surely you don’t still blame yourself for…”
“For his death? No more than you do, mother. Perhaps it is an homage, keeping his memory alive, in a way.”
“You were working for the chaos cult,” Leana said.
“I work for a lot of unsavory types,” Jacko said. “I didn’t share their views, but their gold is good.”
“You were there, on the road. If I hadn’t been there… would you have killed the others?”
He didn’t respond, and after a moment her face fell. “Oh, Jann…”
“Enough,” he said. “I didn’t come here to reminisce. You promised you wouldn’t come after me.”
“I didn’t,” she said. “I didn’t even know you were out here. I came for…”
“Another of your crusades, yes. A successful one, I hear. Though I didn't shed any tears for Pral, or Narthus, or Ivlis. The so-called bandit lord was sloppy, and the latter two were just crazy.”
“J—Jacko, come back with me to Hibberton. Please. It’s not too late…”
“Come back with you?” the younger halfling asked, his voice bitter. “You’d give up your crusade for me, then?”
“Without hesitation,” she said.
“Tempting,” he said. “That would break you, perhaps even more than Jack’s death did. But I won’t carry that on my conscience.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I failed you, my son.”
“Don’t,” he said. “I want your pity even less than your religion, or your regret. Probably for the best that you forget I was even here.”
“I will never forget you,” she said. Jacko didn’t respond, the moment stretching out between them until it was interrupted by the creak of the gate that led out into the street, followed by the crunch of heavy footsteps. Leana turned that way reflexively, and when she turned back, the other halfling was gone.
She let out a heavy sigh and slumped back onto the bench as Greghan came around the corner of the temple. The swordsman looked hale, though dark circles still haunted his eyes.
“Leana,” he said. “The Curate said you were… are you all right?”
Cursing her face for betraying her, she wiped her tears and slid over to make room for him on the bench. “I will be,” she said. “It’s been… a difficult couple of days.”
“It has at that,” he said, coming over to sit beside her. He was clad in his old armor again, the battered mail looking dingy in contrast to Winvarle’s resplendent magical plate. He certainly no longer looked like a farmer, and he didn’t feel like it, either. Leana grieved a bit for the man who had been lost, even as she was grateful for what the new man had accomplished.
“Have the Castellan’s people learned anything more from their captive?” Leana asked.
“If they did, they didn’t say anything when I returned the armor,” Greghan said, frowning. They had already learned a good deal about the operations of the cult. Ivlis might have been crazy, but she’d kept decent records; the documents they’d found in the cult’s cave headquarters had revealed both of her contacts in the Keep. The innkeeper, Haldryck, must have gotten word somehow, or perhaps had just had a good sense of danger, for he’d decamped with his business’s cash box shortly before they had returned to the Keep. The other agent, one of the Castellan’s guards, hadn’t been so lucky; he’d been taken into custody almost immediately after their arrival. Leana couldn’t blame Winvarle for keeping his cards close to his chest, after learning how deeply the cult’s corruptive influence had extended into his citadel.
“Did you find anything in the temple archives?” Greghan asked.
“I think so,” she said. “Fazzir is still coming to grips with the fact that his predecessor at the temple was the cult leader.” That was another fact that the documents had revealed; Ivlis had had quite a few things to say about the Keep in the mad ravings recorded in her journals.
“That woman was insane,” Greghan said. He shuddered.
“Yes,” Leana said. “That can happen, when people let their lust for power overcome their faith.” She shifted and let out another heavy breath, trying to regain some of the equilibrium she’d lost earlier. “I found some references to a magical spring located in the woods,” she said. “Fazzir agrees that there might be a way to employ a magical ritual to destroy the chaos bell.”
“Good,” Greghan said. “I want nothing to do with that kind of magic.”
She reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you, Greghan.”
“For what?”
“For everything.”
“Well,” he said, suddenly embarrassed. “I guess we’ll hear a lot of that tonight, at the Castellan’s banquet.”
“It’s one of the perks of this business,” Leana said. “On those occasions when you can actually do some good.”
“Is that what we did, Leana?”
She took his hand in both of hers. “Yes,” she said firmly. “Yes, Greghan. Never doubt that.”
“What were you thinking of doing next?” he asked. “After destroying the bell, of course. Ravani and Folgar, they were talking about this place they heard of in the south, some sort of hidden citadel built by two former adventurers, a warrior and a wizard. Ravani seems to think there’s a vast treasure that waits within the complex, and Folgar is interested in finding more spells for his book.”
Leana was about to ask him what he thought about the idea, but she caught his eye and hesitated. A few minutes ago, she had been ready to give it all up and go home, to disconnect from the new life she had built for herself. She felt that Greghan was likewise standing on a cusp, in need of a path, a purpose. She could understand, knowing the reassurance that simple faith could give to a person who felt adrift in life. That recognition made her realize that her job here wasn’t finished, that she needed them as much as they needed her. “I think an expedition south could be just the thing,” she said. She stood, hopping down off the bench. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up and ready for the Castellan’s party.”
Game Notes:
I didn’t use all of the character background ideas I noted down when outlining this story, but “Leana is Jacko’s mom?” was too good to pass up.
I thought about writing out the details of the final audience, which is the last scene detailed in the adventure, but I had a different idea for an epilogue, which will be the final entry in the story.
Lazybones
Hero
Thanks to everyone who posted or liked the story; it was fun to write.
* * *
Chapter 45
A cold wind blew down off the mountains to the north. It whistled between the trees in the old wood, swirled down across the road, stirring the surface of the river and the rippling the many stagnant pools and tall weeds of the fens. It caught the web-laden branches of the Tamarack Stand, causing loose strands to sway and annoying the spiders awaiting fresh prey.
The wind also churned in the ravine that housed the Caves of Chaos, whipping up sprays of dust and bits of rotten leaves that briefly formed into a dust devil before coming apart. The stinks of rot and death hung heavily upon the air, and trails of blood could be seen at a few of the caves where violence had recently been wrought. The strange and surprisingly complex ecosystem of the Caves cleaned up after itself, it seemed. A single raptor circled on the air currents high above, looking for a snack.
The wind also blew in the faces of the four people who emerged from the woods that fringed the mouth of the ravine. One of them, a squat dwarf clad in a cloak that had once been fine but which now showed the signs of hard use, cursed and rubbed the grit from his eyes. His companions—a dwarf woman, a halfling man, and a human man with a patch over one eye—regarded the cave-pocked ravine quietly.
“You’re sure that the Keep is done with this place?” the one-eyed man asked.
“Relax, Mardan,” Jacko said. “Old Winvarle was only interested in the cult. Now that they’re gone—and the other locals have been culled—his focus will return inward. His primary mandate out here has been to keep things quiet.”
“And you’re sure about the treasure?” Vinx asked. She’d found a new sword to replace the one that had been taken from her, but it was both longer and slightly curved, and she was clearly still getting used to it. Her hand kept dropping to the hilt, as if to confirm it was still there.
“How sure can anyone truly be about such things?” the halfling replied. He seemed unconcerned, almost pathologically so in a place like this, but the sharp-eyed dwarf woman noticed a slight tightness along his jaw, a hint of tension that hadn’t been there before. She hadn’t forgotten what had happened on the road, but with Pral gone and her purse now as empty as her belly, she was willing to forgive, if not forget.
She opened her mouth to offer a retort, but Jacko continued, “The so-called ‘Heroes of the Borderlands’ only looted about half of the caves,” he said. “And from what I hear, the haul that they brought back to the Keep was… well, less than one would expect, based on what I’ve heard about this place.”
“You hear a lot, living out on those fens?” Haldryck said. He had given up trying to clear the dust from his eyes, and had shifted to fumbling with the catch on his heavy crossbow. He didn’t see the dangerous look that Jacko gave him, but Vinx did. The innkeeper was a good enough hunter with that oversized bow of his, and he’d been able to keep his connection to the cult of chaos concealed from the watchful eyes of his neighbors in the Keep for a long time, but if he wasn’t careful, he was going to end up with a knife in his back.
“I hear enough,” Jacko said. “Enough to know that we need to tread carefully, here.”
“And we split the haul four ways,” Haldryck asked. At Jacko’s nod the dwarf smiled, no doubt imagining his share of the loot, but again he missed the slight twitch at the corner of the halfling’s mouth. Oh, yes, this was going to be interesting, Vinx thought.
“Where do we start?” Mardan asked. The former bandit had mostly recovered from his hard use at the hands of the adventurers, but he still seemed justifiably skittish. He’d rearmed as well, carrying both a stout billet banded in iron and a leather sling. Vinx didn’t sense any threat from him—he was too much of a follower to come up with anything as creative as a betrayal—but also didn’t give him much in the way of odds of surviving this place. But if he absorbed a trap or a monster’s arrow that would have otherwise caught her, that was fine as far as she was concerned.
“The same as with any endeavor,” Jacko said, gesturing toward the closest cave on the right. “We start with what’s in front of us, and work our way up.”
The four improbable adventurers gave their weapons a final check and made their way into the ravine, with two goals: to join the ranks of those other adventurers who had come before them and found wealth and glory in the Caves, and avoid the fate of those others who had come and never left. The only witness on that day was that solitary bird, uninterested in such distinctions as it continued its slow circle overhead.
THE END
* * *
Chapter 45
A cold wind blew down off the mountains to the north. It whistled between the trees in the old wood, swirled down across the road, stirring the surface of the river and the rippling the many stagnant pools and tall weeds of the fens. It caught the web-laden branches of the Tamarack Stand, causing loose strands to sway and annoying the spiders awaiting fresh prey.
The wind also churned in the ravine that housed the Caves of Chaos, whipping up sprays of dust and bits of rotten leaves that briefly formed into a dust devil before coming apart. The stinks of rot and death hung heavily upon the air, and trails of blood could be seen at a few of the caves where violence had recently been wrought. The strange and surprisingly complex ecosystem of the Caves cleaned up after itself, it seemed. A single raptor circled on the air currents high above, looking for a snack.
The wind also blew in the faces of the four people who emerged from the woods that fringed the mouth of the ravine. One of them, a squat dwarf clad in a cloak that had once been fine but which now showed the signs of hard use, cursed and rubbed the grit from his eyes. His companions—a dwarf woman, a halfling man, and a human man with a patch over one eye—regarded the cave-pocked ravine quietly.
“You’re sure that the Keep is done with this place?” the one-eyed man asked.
“Relax, Mardan,” Jacko said. “Old Winvarle was only interested in the cult. Now that they’re gone—and the other locals have been culled—his focus will return inward. His primary mandate out here has been to keep things quiet.”
“And you’re sure about the treasure?” Vinx asked. She’d found a new sword to replace the one that had been taken from her, but it was both longer and slightly curved, and she was clearly still getting used to it. Her hand kept dropping to the hilt, as if to confirm it was still there.
“How sure can anyone truly be about such things?” the halfling replied. He seemed unconcerned, almost pathologically so in a place like this, but the sharp-eyed dwarf woman noticed a slight tightness along his jaw, a hint of tension that hadn’t been there before. She hadn’t forgotten what had happened on the road, but with Pral gone and her purse now as empty as her belly, she was willing to forgive, if not forget.
She opened her mouth to offer a retort, but Jacko continued, “The so-called ‘Heroes of the Borderlands’ only looted about half of the caves,” he said. “And from what I hear, the haul that they brought back to the Keep was… well, less than one would expect, based on what I’ve heard about this place.”
“You hear a lot, living out on those fens?” Haldryck said. He had given up trying to clear the dust from his eyes, and had shifted to fumbling with the catch on his heavy crossbow. He didn’t see the dangerous look that Jacko gave him, but Vinx did. The innkeeper was a good enough hunter with that oversized bow of his, and he’d been able to keep his connection to the cult of chaos concealed from the watchful eyes of his neighbors in the Keep for a long time, but if he wasn’t careful, he was going to end up with a knife in his back.
“I hear enough,” Jacko said. “Enough to know that we need to tread carefully, here.”
“And we split the haul four ways,” Haldryck asked. At Jacko’s nod the dwarf smiled, no doubt imagining his share of the loot, but again he missed the slight twitch at the corner of the halfling’s mouth. Oh, yes, this was going to be interesting, Vinx thought.
“Where do we start?” Mardan asked. The former bandit had mostly recovered from his hard use at the hands of the adventurers, but he still seemed justifiably skittish. He’d rearmed as well, carrying both a stout billet banded in iron and a leather sling. Vinx didn’t sense any threat from him—he was too much of a follower to come up with anything as creative as a betrayal—but also didn’t give him much in the way of odds of surviving this place. But if he absorbed a trap or a monster’s arrow that would have otherwise caught her, that was fine as far as she was concerned.
“The same as with any endeavor,” Jacko said, gesturing toward the closest cave on the right. “We start with what’s in front of us, and work our way up.”
The four improbable adventurers gave their weapons a final check and made their way into the ravine, with two goals: to join the ranks of those other adventurers who had come before them and found wealth and glory in the Caves, and avoid the fate of those others who had come and never left. The only witness on that day was that solitary bird, uninterested in such distinctions as it continued its slow circle overhead.
THE END
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