Forgotten Lore (Updated M-W-F)

[Lazybones]

Chapter 180

The next morning they got an early start into the Reserve. The outer precincts seemed much like any other forest, Glori thought. The sense of foreboding that she’d felt the previous evening had faded somewhat, although a hint of it lingered, a vague impression that something was just slightly off.

The place was full of life. Birds flapped through the canopy high above, while on their level the sounds of animals skittering away frequently disturbed the relative quiet of the march. More ubiquitous were the clouds of bugs that seemed to be following them, a more or less constant annoyance as the day matured.

They made their way single-file through the forest, following the expert guidance of Tender Brightbriar. As promised, there did not seem to be any kind of permanent trail, but the old elf seemed to know where he was going, and he set a pace that belied his years. But nothing more threatening than the swarming gnats emerged to threaten them, and by the time that they paused for lunch Glori could almost forget where they were.

Any thought about letting her guard down was countered by the attitude of the Rangers. The elves behaved as if every fallen tree or cluster of bushes might conceal a hidden foe. They showed they were veterans in the way they moved together, coordinating their actions so that every angle of approach had a set of eyes on it. For the most part they were friendly enough with their charges, save maybe Shreskra, but it didn’t take long for Glori to notice that she, Kosk, and Embrae were the focus of the formation that the elves had created, a protective ring centered on them. It rankled a bit, being treated as though they were helpless, but she understood that it had to be that way, as they were an unknown quantity until they had an opportunity to prove otherwise.

By the time that night began to fall, Glori guessed that they’d covered maybe ten to twelve miles. Not an especially grueling pace, but enough that her feet were sore as Brightbriar led them into a rocky hollow that had clearly served as a campsite in the past. Her hands were covered in scratches from the patches of brush they’d had to push through along the route, and her skin itched from sweat and bug bites. The Tender showed them a tiny spring that Glori might have walked right past if it hadn’t been pointed out to her, and began collecting deadwood for their fire. With a gesture Shreskra assigned Darethan to watch duty. The Ranger darted away and vanished into the trees, invisible by the time he’d covered ten steps.

Glori shrugged out of her pack and joined in the work of preparing their camp. Majerion walked past her to the spring, looking annoyingly fresh despite the long day’s hike. He began to whistle a soft melody as he washed off his boots and then soaked a rag that he slapped across his neck.

It did not take them long to get settled in. The fire filled the hollow with light and warmth as the night descended around them. Loriellan prepared a meal, a hearty stew of root vegetables and barley from their stores. Brightbriar produced a sack of greens that he’d gathered and a dozen golden mushrooms the size of a man’s palm that he added to the stew.

The Rangers let their charges sit closest to the fire. They seated themselves on a fallen tree at the edge of the hollow, separating themselves from the rest of the group even in rest. They spoke quietly amongst themselves as they ate. Glori could not make out what they were saying, but she noted the easy camaraderie between them. Shreskra stood behind them at the edge of the firelight, keeping watch on the entire scene.

“This forest doesn’t seem so bad, so far,” Kosk said.

“From what I have heard, it will only get harder as we go deeper into the Reserve,” Majerion said. “The forest does not suffer intrusion lightly.”

The Rangers shared a few looks of light amusement at that, but Tender Brightbriar’s expression sharpened as he pivoted to face the bard. “Any why should it not?” he asked. “This place is pure, pristine, safe from the ravages wrought by your ‘civilization’. That is one thing that all races have in common, elf or dwarf or human, it does not matter. Wherever we choose to live, we sow the seeds of destruction.”

The Tender rose and left the camp, leaving a moment of awkward quiet in his wake. “His name seems well-earned, the latter part at least,” Kosk said.

“A good thing he ended up in this job, I suppose,” Glori said.

“Tenders always take on a new name when they are appointed,” Embrae explained. “Though I will admit that the sentiment he shared is fairly common among within the organization.”

“Do you share his view?” Glori asked. “You wanted to be one of them, at one point.”

“I believe in the importance of the Reserve,” Embrae said. “But otherwise… no, I don’t think that all civilization is bad.”

“I have traveled far and wide,” Majerion said. “And I can say that all civilizations, all peoples, have their bad and their good. It is a part of life. No doubt the same applies to the Reserve.”

Brightbriar returned, his arms full of another load of dead wood for the fire. He quickly put it down and turned again to leave, but Glori interrupted him. “Tender, what can we expect as we move deeper into the Reserve?”

The old elf shook his head. “I cannot predict. Every time I entered the Reserve was a different experience.”

“Surely you can at least offer some general guidance,” Glori persisted.

“The Reserve is not full of monsters,” Brightbriar said. “It is wild. There are wild creatures in it, some of which are hazardous. There are plants that can make you sick if you eat them, and others that can harm you if you go near them. I will do my best to help you avoid such dangers, and the Rangers can no doubt deal with any other threats. But you will be best served by the following advice. Remember that you are strangers here. Show the Reserve the respect it is due, and it will in turn respect you. Then we can complete this errand of yours and everything can return to the way it should be.”

He started to turn away again but Kosk asked, “How long will it take to reach the Green Tower?”

“Again, it depends,” the Tender said.

“On what?” Glori asked.

“The mood of the forest,” the old elf replied.

“We should be able to make it in three more days, give or take,” Shreskra said from the other side of the camp.

The Tender acknowledged this with a bow, then crossed the hollow to the site he’d chosen for his rest. It was well away from the fire, a niche that abutted the exposed roots of an ancient tree. The old elf adjusted his cloak and then vanished into the narrow opening. Glori could almost feel his eyes watching them.

“Oh, yeah, this is going to be a fun journey,” Kosk muttered.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 181

Night in the Reserve was almost pure black. The forest was not quite still, as the breeze rustled the canopy high above and the soft sounds of nocturnal creatures provided a steady background noise. But in the camp, everything was quiet. The fire had burned low, the glowing embers barely bright enough to reveal the outlines of the sleeping travelers wrapped tightly in their blankets.

Two of the Rangers kept watch, one in the trees above and one on the edge of the hollow, but neither observed the dark figure that crept out of the camp in the deep hours of the night. Even the predators that hunted the night failed to note the intruder, who did not stop until it had traveled several hundred feet from the camp. There it paused in the lee of a fallen tree that had formed a sort of embankment, with fresh growth sprouting in and around the rotten wood as part of the forest’s endless cycle.

Even though the tree offered excellent cover, the dark figure crouched low. For the briefest instant the faintest glow shone from within the folds of its garments, coming from a small object it carried. The light was not bright enough to reveal the figure’s face, and it was quickly shrouded between its body and the bulk of the dead tree. The figure bent over its treasure, and for a few moments there came a sound of whispered words, so soft that someone would have had to been leaning over the edge of the log itself to hear what was being said.

The covert communication, if that was what it was, lasted less than a minute. Then the figure retraced its steps, returning to the camp. No more attention was given to its return than to its departure, and soon a perfect stillness returned once more to the dark hollow.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 182

They got an early start the next day, at Shreskra’s urging. By the time that the faint rays of scattered sunlight that penetrated down through the canopy reached the forest floor they had already covered several miles. The forest was much the same as it had been the day before, though they passed several places of particularly dense growth where Brightbriar had them take detours rather than try to force their way through. Even so there were plenty of obstacles that had to be negotiated, from gullies thick with clinging brush to ridges that rose up out of the forest like the spine of some vast buried creature. Occasionally the Rangers had to break out ropes to help them clamber over some particularly difficult terrain feature, but for the most part they defeated them through simple persistence and effort.

Glori felt fairly well-rested. Shreskra had refused all offers to help keep watch, and finally the bard had just shrugged and accepted her full night’s sleep. Her legs were sore but not unbearably so; before their extended stay in Severon she’d been in pretty good shape and that conditioning was returning quickly. The insects that had bedeviled them the day before quickly returned as the day grew warmer, but she was getting used to that as well.

Around midmorning they came to a stream a few paces across. They paused to refill their water bottles and wash some of the dust from their faces and necks. The water was cool and bracing. Glori would have enjoyed a chance to soak her feet, but it felt like they’d barely stopped before Shreskra was urging them up again.

“The sooner we get there, the sooner we get back,” the Ranger leader said.

Glori needed little urging—the fate of Javerin was never far from her thoughts—but she found herself resenting the elf woman’s attitude. Shreskra’s reluctance about the mission had gradually changed to an exaggerated paternalism that had nearly provoked the bard into a sharp response. Glori had faced far worse than what the Refuge offered in the Silverpeak Valley, though she’d had the rest of her friends with her there. Ultimately it was their absence that had her holding her tongue; she could imagine Bredan and Quellan’s reactions to any tirade she might make, and that helped her keep her cool.

It was around midday and her stomach was staring to grumble when they entered a particularly impressive part of the forest. The trees around them were massive, ancient sentinels that rose hundreds of feet into the sky. Some were so thick around the base that Glori doubted that all of the Rangers together could have joined hands around their trunks. The presence of those giants thinned their rivals around them, which allowed a bit more of the sunlight to filter down from above. Motes of dust glowed in those bright rays. It was almost like being in a cathedral, and for a long moment Glori could only stand and stare at the natural beauty of it. In that moment, she could better understand Brightbriar’s attitude from the night before. Even the Rangers appeared to be affected by it, though they never fully let down their guard.

As they resumed their trek forward, the wonders of the vaulted canopy had to give way to more prosaic concerns. The added sunlight also meant denser undergrowth, and soon they were all cursing as they pushed their way through scratching bushes and clinging weeds that tugged at their leggings as they passed. Only the Tender seemed to be unaffected, and Glori was starting to wonder if he had some magical trick that was letting him win past the forest’s wiles.

Majerion began softly strumming a traveling song, perhaps to lift their spirits, but Shreskra quickly silenced him with a harsh hiss. Glori paused to pick burrs out of her trousers before they could work their way down into her boots. She started to turn to offer a comment to Kosk—the dwarf, being the shortest of them, likely had the most reason to complain—but paused as she heard a faint rustling sound from the bushes beside her.

“Did you hear that?” she asked. She started to reach for her lyre, but her fingers had barely brushed the surface of the instrument when a huge form exploded out of the undergrowth and came charging toward her.

It was at least twenty feet away when she saw it, but it was coming so fast that she barely had an instant to react. She only had time to register a hulking, four-legged furry form before it was right on top of her. A scream issued from her lips as she leapt aside. For a moment she thought she’d gotten clear as it surged past her, but then something clipped her hard on the side and spun her almost completely around. She fell to one knee and barely kept herself from going all the way down.

She looked up just as her attacker came to a sudden stop maybe five paces past her. She hadn’t gotten a clear look at it before, but could now see that it was some kind of giant bear, its shoulder coming almost to her chin. There looked to be something odd about its fur, especially at the front of its body, but she didn’t have time to consider that before it twisted around to face her.

The face… while attached to a body that still looked bear-like, the face was that of a bird, with wide eyes under a ridged brow and a hooked beak that opened impossibly wide as the thing surged forward again to crush her.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 183

For a moment, overwhelmed by the sudden and incongruous appearance of the creature, Glori hesitated.

That moment quite nearly cost her, but even as the owlbear reared up to strike Kosk slammed into it from the side. The end of his staff cracked into the right side of its face just behind its beak, drawing from it a sharp hiss of pain. Even as it started to turn he spun the staff around and slammed the other end into the brow just above its left eye.

The response was immediate and violent. The creature slashed at him with its claws, trying to envelop him in a bone-shattering hug. The dwarf escaped that, but at a cost of several long slashes to his robe that revealed the bloody rents underneath. He tried to leap backwards, but before he could get clear the beak snapped down and tore a long hunk of flesh from his left shoulder. The force of the blow knocked him aside, but he came up in a roll that put him back on his feet, if rather the worse for wear.

The owlbear started after him, but before it could resume its ferocious attack the dwarf’s companions came to his aid. Glori had recovered and held her lyre, but she realized that any spells she might hurl would be as likely to harm her companions as their opponent. But the long hours of training that she and Bredan had gone through quickly reasserted themselves, and she let the lyre drop as she drew her sword in one fluid motion. Due to the dense growth she could not see far past the creature, but she could hear the loud din of battle from further ahead along their path. It appeared that the creature was not alone, and from what she could hear the Rangers were fully engaged.

That did not stop her from rushing forward, but before she could get close enough to bring her weapon to bear her companions pressed their attacks. She heard rather than saw Majerion’s contribution, as the creature’s bulk blocked all but a glimpse of his hat before he stabbed at it with his rapier. The monster hooted in pain, telling her that he’d scored, but it was not enough to turn it from its assault upon Kosk. But before it could engage him again Embrae darted forward. The elf woman looked pathetically frail in contrast with the huge creature, but when she drove the palm of her hand into its left foreleg Glori could hear the snap of bone. The owlbear clearly felt that, though the injury did not keep it from a violent sweep of its other claw, one that might have inflicted the same hurt on the monk, had it connected.

In a move that caused Glori to blink in amazement, Embrae launched herself into the air. She tumbled over backwards, her body spinning gracefully in the air. She cleared the owlbear’s claws by scant inches, so close that the bard wasn’t one hundred percent sure that they had missed, at first. The owlbear, driven into a frenzy by the damage it had already absorbed, kept coming. It lunged for the middle of her torso, its beak snapping to seize her out of the air. The two of them, monster and woman, seemed to merge together in slow motion as Glori watched. There was nowhere for Embrae to go to avoid that powerful bite, but even as the creature’s beak started to close she reached out and pressed her hand against its forehead, pushing off so that it caught only empty air.

Time returned to its normal course as Embrae landed on the uneven ground a few paces away. She came up in a roll that echoed Kosk’s maneuver earlier, her hands flipping back up into a defense stance as she recovered her footing.

Embrae’s escape left Glori facing the owlbear’s fury alone, but this time the bard did not hesitate, thrusting with her sword before it could recover. She felt the solid impact travel up her arm as the sword pierced its right shoulder. The creature flinched back. It lifted its good paw to strike, but she lashed out and struck it another blow that nearly severed several of the bloody claws. The monster reared, hurt badly now, but its foes kept coming at it from all directions. She saw Majerion now as he thrust his rapier deep into its flank, moments before Kosk delivered a rib-cracking impact on the other side. Embrae came forward to stand beside Glori, but her support proved to be unnecessary. The owlbear was already wavering, and as the companions drew back it tumbled forward. It landed heavily in the weeds and trampled bushes, huffed out a few labored breaths, and died.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 184

Glori was quick to check on Kosk, but the dwarf was not hurt as badly as it had looked at first glance. Turning to the front of the column, she saw that the fighting had come to an end there as well. A second owlbear, even larger than the first, had attacked just moments after Glori had come under attack, but the Rangers had been able to deal with it. Loriellen and Tenaille had both taken wounds, but none appeared to be life-threatening. They lacked a cleric in their company, but both Glori and Majerion were able to manage lesser healing spells, and soon all of the serious wounds had been treated.

The question of what had happened, however, took somewhat longer to resolve.

“What were those things?” Embrae asked.

“Owlbears,” Shreskra and Brightbriar replied simultaneously. Glori nodded; she was familiar with the species, though she had never seen one before. If Quellan was here he might have made a comment about the book description never living up to the reality. The thought awakened a pang as she realized how much she missed him. And the others, of course.

“I’m more interested in how those things managed to ambush us,” Kosk said. “It’s not like these things were tiny. I thought elvish scouts were supposed to have sharp eyes?”

For a moment, Shreskra looked to be taken aback, even embarrassed, and Glori was surprised. But the Ranger leader quickly recovered and turned to Brightbriar, who had escaped the brief but violent encounter unscathed. “Is it common to encounter such things so close to the edge of the Reserve?” she asked.

The old elf also looked somewhat startled. “No,” he said. “The larger monstrosities usually keep to the far side of the Reserve, far away from the Tender outposts.” He stared down at the two dead creatures as if they were a puzzle he could not quite solve.

“We shouldn’t linger here,” Shreskra said. “There’s one of those outposts not far from here, isn’t there? Tender?”

Brightbriar blinked and looked up at her. “Yes, yes, there is,” he said. “It’s not especially close, but we should be able to reach it before nightfall. We should be… we should be safe there,” he said.

“Thanks for distracting it,” Glori said to Kosk as they prepared to move out again. “And you too, Embrae. Those were some nice moves.”

“We need to watch each other’s backs in here,” the elf woman said. She gave the dead creature one more look before following the others along their improvised path. Glori also glanced at it as she cleaned her sword, then looked up to see Majerion watching her from just beyond the fallen hulk. The other bard gave her a nod then followed after the departing monk.

“Complicated, eh?” Kosk asked her as she sheathed her blade.

“Yeah,” she said. “Makes you wonder what fun the others are getting into, doesn’t it?”

“No doubt they’re up to their necks as deep as we are,” the dwarf replied.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 185

Bredan woke in the middle of the night to a feeling of dread.

At first, he did not remember where he was. It was dark and quiet. But then he remembered. Their quarters in Underhold were not especially spacious or well-apportioned, but they each had their own room and vents in the walls let in a constant stream of warm air to banish the cold of the bare stone.

For several long minutes he just lay there. Somehow, he could sense that it was still Third Shift, the deep of night in the dwarven city. He did not know how he knew that, or what had stirred him from sleep, but he could feel that something was coming.

Finally, he heard something, a distant thrumming noise. It was different from the usual sounds of laboring machines that filled the other shifts, and again that strange sudden instinct told him that it was an alarm.

He quickly rose and put on his armor. When he stepped out into the small anteroom that connected their sleeping chambers, he found Xeeta and Quellan already there. Konstantin’s door was open, but there was no sign of the wizard.

“What’s happening?” Bredan asked.

“I don’t know,” Quellan said. “But something isn’t right.”

Bredan nodded. “Let’s go check it out.”

The rhythmic pounding of the alarm was louder once they left the guest quarters and entered the main avenues of the city. No one stopped them, though the corridors were full of dwarves moving with purpose. Most of the dwarves dressed in armor and carrying weapons were heading in the direction of the Darkfall Gate, so Bredan and his companions went that way as well.

“Is it an attack?” Xeeta asked, but none of them had any answer.

They ran into Darik near the lift they’d taken the day before. It was already half-full with armored dwarves, and others continued to pile into it as they hailed the veteran warrior. “What’s happening?” Quellan asked him.

“It’s an attack on the Darkfall Gate,” the dwarf said. “I have to go. You should go back to your quarters, it’s safest…”

“We can help,” Bredan said. Quellan hefted his shield, showing the symbol of Hosrenu etched into the metal surface, and Xeeta lifted her rod, summoning a flicker of flame that wove around the tip. Bredan summoned his sword, the long shaft of the weapon shining in the light of the corridor lamps.

Darik hesitated, but at that moment the operator of the lift cried out, “Ready down!” “All right,” the warrior said, gesturing them forward. It was a tight fit with the dwarves already packed into the confined space, but they were able to make it just as the doors slid shut and the car began to descend. Bredan let his sword disappear again, drawing curious looks from some of the warriors.

“Is it the trolls?” Xeeta asked as the lift descended.

“Yes,” Darik said. “The Gate reported a major assault beginning just minutes ago. Somehow they were able to get close without setting off the sensors in the temple or at the Gate, but we’re reading something big now.”

“It’s a lucky thing we missed them yesterday,” Xeeta said.

“Will the wall hold?” Quellan asked.

“Nothing’s ever gotten past it,” Darik said. The lift began to slow, the outer doors starting to rumble open even before it settled to the bottom of the shaft. As the familiar cavern that held the Darkfall Gate was revealed, the companions saw a scene of chaos in front of them.

It was obvious that the attack was already underway. Dwarves were rushing up to the battlements atop the Gate, to join comrades who were already unleashing missile fire at unseen enemies beyond. They could hear them, though, a constant roar of loud hooting and bestial screams that echoed off the walls and ceiling of the cavern. There was another sound, a deep irregular thrum that was similar to the beat of the alarm drums that filled the main cavern of Underhold above, but which they could tell was somehow part of the assault.

Bredan and the others quickly filed out of the lift to make way for the dwarves that charged forward toward the Gate. As they watched they could see that what had appeared to be confusion at first glance actually had a structure to it; every dwarf moved with purpose, and everyone seemed to have an assigned place to be. In addition to the soldiers there were stretcher bearers, ammunition carriers, and engineers laden with tools.

Darik had hesitated with them, clearly wanting to rush to his place but burdened with the obligation of watching over the members of the diplomatic party. “We can help,” Bredan said again. “You may not need one more sword, but both Quellan and Xeeta have magic that is perfectly suited to this kind of… situation.”

For a moment longer Darik lingered. The indecision was clear on his face, his thoughts no doubt warring between the obvious need and the trouble he could create if one or more of them were to get killed defending that wall. But then a massive roar sounded over the din of the fighting, a bellowing sound that filled the cavern and rebounded off the walls before reaching them.

“Come on,” the dwarf said. “We’ll need to report in before we can…”

They didn’t hear the rest of what he was saying as another loud bellow followed the first, followed by a monstrous crash.

“Are they attacking the gates themselves?” Xeeta asked.

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound good,” Quellan said.

They ran toward the wall. The loud roaring wasn’t repeated, but they could hear the cries of creatures fighting and dying behind the wall, and the dull thumps that grew louder as they approached. The dwarves fought silently for the most part, save for the orders shouted by their officers as they shifted their forces along the battlements.

Darik led them toward one of the watch stations that were built into the base of the wall on their side, presumably to report in to one of the commanders and see where they were needed. But before they could reach it, Xeeta yelled a warning. “Look out!”

The men glanced up in time to see a large object flying over the wall. It barely cleared the battlements, then dropped onto one of the landings of the staircase that ascended to the wall above the watch station. It landed with a solid crack, but its momentum carried it forward. It clipped the edge of the watch station’s roof and then dropped hard onto the ground about ten feet ahead of them.

The object burst open. It was some sort of husk that looked to be made out of mud and ropy fibers. The pieces of it fell apart as several trolls clawed their way out of it.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 186

For a moment the companions just stared at this unexpected development in surprise. The remnants of the husk clung together just enough to give the trolls some pause, but the first one to shrug clear quickly focused on the four individuals standing there watching it. It snarled and lunged forward. A second one emerged behind it, followed improbably by a third. That last one was having some difficulty; something seemed to be wrong with its legs, suggesting that this unusual means of travel was not without cost.

Darik was the first to recover, meeting the troll halfway with a swing of his axe. The weapon slammed hard into its side, a blow that would have crushed ribs at the least had it struck a normal man. But the troll merely absorbed the hit with a grunt and lashed out at the dwarf. Its claws dug into Darik’s mail. The armor kept them from penetrating far, but it seized hold of him and flung him aside. The dwarf had to weigh at least fifteen stone, but the troll launched him through the air as if he’d been a sack of potatoes. He tumbled and landed hard a good ten paces away.

The delay gave Bredan enough time to summon his sword and meet the creature before it could inflict more damage. Forewarned by Darik’s attack, he was ready for the resistance from the troll’s thick hide, but it still felt like he had struck a stone wall. The impact sent a hard jolt through his arms into his body. The force of it knocked the troll back, but only for a moment, and while it was clearly favoring the side where it had taken two solid blows, that didn’t stop it for lunging at Bredan with claws outstretched toward his throat.

Xeeta met the second one before it could join the fray. She drew its attention with a series of scorching rays that stabbed into its stony form. For a moment the flashing flames obscured it from view, but when the third and final ray flared out it still stood, burned but not seriously damaged. The markings etched into its craggy chest were glowing slightly.

“Magic resistant!” Xeeta breathed. She tried to dodge back, but the troll was faster, lunging forward and striking her with a backhanded blow that knocked her roughly to the floor. She hit hard but pushed herself up, turning her head to stare at it with eyes that burned with bright flame. Blood trickled from her lips as she spoke a word of power. The troll let out a screech as her hellish rebuke surrounded it with a burning intensity that overcame whatever power protected it. It withstood even that assault, but as the flames started to die Quellan drove it to the ground with a single powerful blow from his mace.

Both immediately turned to help Bredan, but the warrior had finally gotten the better of his foe. The troll had fallen but was still struggling, even as Bredan finally managed to stab the tip of his weapon through its armored body. He stumbled back a few steps from the dying creature, grimacing as blood seeped from shallow gashes in his arms.

The third troll still hadn’t gotten itself fully clear of the husk before several dwarves emerged from the watch station and fell on it with their axes and hammers. Even crippled it died hard, dragging a dwarf down with it before his allies could pull him clear. Quellan went over to help him while Bredan and Xeeta looked around for additional threats. It looked like several more of the husk-balls had been hurled over the wall, but the others had all landed atop the battlements. The dwarven defenders had been quick to surround them, and from what they could see seemed to have the situation well in hand.

“Are you all right?” Darik asked as he rejoined them. The dwarf was limping slightly, but he still held onto his axe with hard determination. But before either Bredan or Xeeta could respond another outburst drew their attention back to the wall.

They looked up to see trolls swarming over the battlements directly ahead of them. There were almost a dozen dwarves there, but they were being pushed back as more of the creatures clambered up over the merlons or squeezed through the gaps between them to join the fight. From where they stood it wasn’t clear where the creatures were coming from or how they had gained the top of the wall, but it was obvious that the situation had suddenly grown much more dire.

Bredan hefted his sword and shouted, “Come on!” before he sprinted forward toward the stairs.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 187

Bredan lay slumped against the solidity of the Darkfall Gate, utterly exhausted. His arms and legs felt as though they had been banded with iron weights. His wounds burned, but they were not too serious; a dwarf medic had examined him briefly earlier but had passed him up for others when it was clear that he was not going to bleed to death. It could have been worse; if he hadn’t been wearing his armor he might not be there to feel the pain.

He had lost track of how many trolls he had killed. They died hard, but they did die, eventually. Quellan had told them that surface trolls regenerated, their bodies healing even deadly wounds in moments. These trolls lacked that property; at least that was something, Bredan thought. With their unnaturally thick hides, frenzied strength, and resistance to magic they were otherwise terrible foes.

The fight atop the wall blurred together in his mind, a memory already becoming hazy. He might forget the details, but he doubted he would ever forget the sheer intensity of it, the surging horde of trolls, the struggle to take even one step forward against that violent rush. Xeeta and Quellan had completely expended their reserves of magic, the former in explosive displays of magical power, the latter mostly in healing those who otherwise might have died from their wounds. But both of his friends had been there in the front line as well.

It had been dicey there for a moment, and Bredan remembered thinking that the trolls would sweep them away, that nothing could stop them. But dwarven reinforcements had arrived just in time, beating back the horde. Koron had been among them, apparently recovered from being shot through by a ballista. The dwarf had swept through the troll ranks like a berserker, knocking the bigger creatures back over the wall with blows from a huge hammer. The weapon had to have been at least twice as heavy as Bredan’s sword, yet Koron had wielded it like a switch.

Bredan was thirsty, but the effort of getting up and going into the adjacent guardhouse seemed impossible at that moment. He managed to lift his head a bit and look around. Quellan had gone to the infirmary to help the dwarven clerics treat the wounded; even with his magic depleted his skill and knowledge were still needed. Xeeta had disappeared somewhere. Bredan might have been worried about her if he hadn’t seen the look on her face as the fighting began to wind down. He understood that she needed some time alone.

He didn’t see his friends, but he did see Darik approaching. The dwarf warrior looked as beaten and battered as Bredan felt, but that didn’t stop him from moving briskly and with purpose. He saw Bredan and hailed him.

“Are you all right?”

“It looks worse than it feels,” Bredan said. “How about you?”

“I’m not looking forward to later, when I have time to hurt,” Darik said. Bredan chuckled. The dwarves as a whole might be mysterious and troublesome, but this one was all right.

“You seem to be in a hurry,” Bredan said.

Darik nodded. “We’re sending a small force out through the Small Gate,” he said.

“To make sure they’re all dead?”

“That, and to see if we can learn anything.”

Bredan nodded, then with an effort he pushed himself up. He did not want to admit how much the presence of the wall behind him was keeping him standing. “I’d like to go with you.”

“That’s not necessary,” Darik said. “You’ve already done enough. More than enough. If you and your friends hadn’t been there when they gained the wall…”

“Still, I’d like to see for myself,” Bredan said. “I promise I won’t get in the way.”

After a moment, the dwarf nodded. “Fair enough.”

Bredan was the last one through the fortified corridor that led to the outer door. His height allowed him to see over the heads of the seven dwarves in front of him. Seven again; a fortuitous number. He wondered if his presence spoiled the luck.

The outside door ground open. The sally port hadn’t come under serious attack during the troll assault, but there was an engineer among the company who carefully checked the mechanisms as the others tromped through. Bredan turned to the side and carefully edged through to avoid getting in the dwarf’s way. The others had already fanned out, though they remained close enough to help each other if necessary.

That support wasn’t immediately necessary, as nothing stirred around them. Bredan felt some of the hard tension of the fight return as he stared out upon the battlefield.

Dead trolls were everywhere, some embedded with stubby crossbow bolts, others with terrible gashes from dwarven axes. He could separate the ones that had been flung off the wall, they were in worse shape than the ones that had been shot from above. Some lay in blackened ruins in the midst of scorch marks; the dwarves had used fire bombs as part of their siege defenses.

The trolls were bad enough, but Bredan’s attention was quickly drawn to the giants.

He’d seen them from above, but it was different from this vantage, close enough to reach out and touch them. There were two right next to the sally port, in the shadow of the main gate. The huge stone battering rams that they’d used to assault the gate were lying on the ground next to them. Bolts from crossbows and ballistae jutted from the corpses, even the latter looking tiny against their sheer mass.

Bredan felt his gorge threaten as he came closer to the fallen hulks. They were about the size of the hill giant he had encountered on the road to the Silverpeak Valley, but that was where the similarity ended. These giants were hideously malformed, their bodies twisted into contorted forms that Bredan knew was not the result of their injuries. One had a massive hunchback, while the other had arms that were of different length, the smaller twisted unnaturally in a way that had to have been an agony when it was still alive. Their faces looked like a sculpture that had been deliberately mangled, the flesh lumped and misshapen.

“Formorians,” Darik said.

“What makes them like this?” Bredan asked.

“No one really knows for sure,” Darik said. “Some say they were cursed, others that they were mutated by the strange radiations of the underworld.”

“Are they customarily allied with trolls?”

“No,” Darik said. “Needless to say, this is not a good development.”

They continued past the two fallen giants. There were a few others scattered across the battlefield, their bodies looming over the comparatively tiny trolls that lay fallen all around them. Bredan could clearly mark the spot where the trolls had gained the wall; there was another dead giant there, a ballista bolt sticking through its neck. The remnants of the wooden ramp it had held for the trolls lay around its body, charred and blackened. The giants had also been responsible for hurling the husk balls full of trolls over the wall.

“Did any get away?”

“We’re not certain. There are five giants here altogether, and maybe a hundred trolls. There might have been more.”

“Seems like a well-planned attack,” Bredan said.

“That fact has not escaped us,” Darik said.

They were interrupted by a terrible cry, followed by a gurgling sound. They turned to see one of the dwarves standing over a fallen troll, a bloody knife in his hand.

“No quarter,” Bredan said.

“They would not have given us any,” Darik pointed out.

“Do you think they’ll be back?” Bredan said.

“I don’t know,” Darik said.

They didn’t linger long on the battlefield. The dwarves were quite thorough, but Bredan had seen enough blood for one day.

Darik went back in with him. There was a messenger waiting when they got back into the guardroom, a young dwarf who took Darik aside and spoke with him quietly. When he left, the dwarf warrior called Bredan over.

“What is it?” Bredan asked.

“It’s the Council,” Darik said. “They want to see you and your friends again, as soon as possible.”

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 188

It was a different group that met with them this time, though several of the faces were familiar. They were in a small meeting room instead of the more spacious Council chambers, dominated by a long conference table and a hearth that was currently black and cold. There were two members of the Council of Elders present, though they sat in the back and did not participate in the discussion. Bredan’s eyes kept heading in that direction, wondering what they were thinking.

In the foreground, and dominating the meeting, were Dergan Steelshield and Akhenon Loremaster. Darik also remained present, though he was not seated at the conference table and instead took up a position near the door.

On the visitor’s side of the table were Bredan, Quellan, Xeeta, and Konstantin. The wizard had not participated in the attack, but he had been briefed by Bredan and the others, and he had a serious expression as he listened to the dwarves speaking. Bredan, still exhausted, felt his mind wandering during the account. He’d already heard most of it from Darik on their journey to the Lakehore Grotto and from Goran Thunderhammer, and the reality of the trolls’ grudge against the dwarves he of course knew from firsthand experience.

“So now you know what we are up against,” Dergan said as he finished. “These trolls are not common foes, and with giants as allies they represent an even greater threat to Ironcrest.”

“They wish to exterminate us,” Akhenon said.

“I understand,” Konstantin said. “But if you are confronted with such a danger, why did you not reach out to us sooner? We could have provided aid.”

“When confronted with such a danger, it is easy to see threats everywhere you look,” Akhenon said. “In such circumstances trust comes slowly. Especially when there is so much history between our peoples, so much of it troubled.”

“We were allies, once,” Konstantin said. “Mistakes have been made, but that does not change that fundamental truth.”

“What if this is all connected?” Xeeta asked.

They all turned to her. In the light of the gas lamps her ruddy skin seemed almost to glow. She fidgeted a bit under that scrutiny but did not lower her eyes. “What do you mean?” Akhenon finally asked.

“The trolls were altered,” she said. “And it is clear that there is a greater intelligence behind this attack, someone or something that could bind the trolls and these formorians together. Furthermore, it seems obvious to me that there is magic at work here. I sensed it when I battled the trolls, they resisted my spellworking.”

“There are many creatures that are resistant to magic,” Dergan said.

“There was magic behind Kavel Murgoth as well,” Xeeta continued. “We have told you about the Blooded, and the warlock we encountered. My own existence is evidence that there are people who are eager to meddle with outside entities for the sake of power.”

“There is no evidence that the two things are connected,” Akhenon said.

“There is no evidence that they are not connected,” Quellan pointed out.

“There is something going on that we cannot fully perceive,” Bredan said. “There is a greater power at work here; I have touched that power myself. The hobgoblin was seeking it, and others have as well. It led me to the Libram. I don’t know that the answers are in that ancient book. But it is not an accident of fate that brought me here. You say you are in danger of extermination; I say that we are all in danger, humans and dwarves and elves alike. You joined with us against the Dead King. We shouldn’t wait until we’re facing another existential threat before we agree to work together. If we wait too long this time, it might be too late for us all.”

Another silence settled around the table as Bredan finished. The dwarves exchanged a long look, the two in front glancing back at the pair of Elders seated in the back. Some silent communication passed between them, then Dergan turned back to the others. “We will think on your words,” he said.

Bredan got up, the others following his gesture. “Don’t think too long,” he warned.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 189

They reached the Tender outpost about an hour shy of sunset.

At first, Glori did not even realize that they had arrived. It wasn’t until the Rangers stopped that she took a second look at their surroundings and saw that they’d reached their destination.

The outpost was situated on the edge of a clearing, one of the gaps in the forest that had been relatively rare during their journey. The site consisted of a small collection of stone structures with low, almost flat shingle roofs. The reason she’d missed them at first was that they were all covered by a shroud of fresh growth. Vines crept up the stone walls, with clinging moss filling in the gaps. The roofs were almost invisible under a drape of green, and most were in a state of fairly advanced state of collapse that left their interiors open to the elements. One of the buildings even had a young tree poking out through a broad gap in the shingles.

“How long has this place been abandoned?” Kosk asked.

“I… I didn’t know it was,” Brightbriar said. Glori looked over to see that the old Tender had a look of utter confusion on his face. “How long has it been since you’ve last been here?” she asked. “Tender?”

He blinked and looked at her. “A few years,” he admitted. “But if they’d been planning on moving the outpost, I certainly would have heard of it…”

“Check it out,” Shreskra ordered. Her Rangers spread out as they approached the outpost, their weapons at the ready. “Wait here,” she ordered as Embrae started to edge after them. “After what happened earlier, better to be careful,” the Ranger leader added.

“How many Tenders are supposed to be here?” Glori asked.

“They would spend most of their time rotating out in the Reserve,” Brightbriar said. “But there should be at least a small group stationed here, maybe half a dozen.”

“There’s nobody here now,” Embrae said, still staring at the wreckage of the outpost.

“Let’s wait for the report,” Shreskra said, though it was clear that she too was unnerved by the unexpected development.

It didn’t take long for the Rangers to return. “No one’s here,” Razelle said. “The site’s been deserted for a while, but…” she trailed off.

“What is it?” Shreskra asked impatiently.

“It’s weird,” the scout said. “I would say from the growth that it’s been like this for a few seasons, at least. But some of the damage… it looks fairly recent. And we found a few signs that someone’s been here not too long ago.”

“The Tenders?” Shreskra asked.

“I can’t say for sure. I’m sorry, Patrol Leader, I can’t be more specific. The signs are just…”

“‘Weird,’” Shreskra said.

“Are we going to camp here tonight?” Kosk asked.

Shreskra looked over at Brightbriar. “Tender? Are there any other places that might offer good shelter near here?”

“Nothing that offers as much protection as these buildings,” the old elf replied.

“All right,” Shreskra said. “We’ll set up camp here, but keep an eye out.” Turning back to Razelle, she added, “Check the surrounding area, see if there’s any indication of what happened to the Tenders, or if there are any more clues about what happened ere and when.”

“Yes, Patrol Leader,” the scout said, snapping off a quick salute before running off to rejoin her companions.

They took full advantage of the remaining daylight in setting up their camp. The Rangers chose the most intact of the three buildings to serve as their base, though even that one had multiple gaping holes in its roof. Some of the growth that coated the outside of the structure had made it inside, and they had to hack a probing vine out the interior of the fireplace before they could use it, but by the time that the last remnants of daylight had faded they were settled in.

The scouts hadn’t turned up any more clues in the forest around the outpost, but the mysteries of the place remained unsolved. The condition of the roof and the state of the interior seemed to support the theory that the place had been abandoned months if not years ago, but they found some old caches of stores that looked almost edible. To be safe they discarded it all and relied on the supplies that they’d brought with them.

“I don’t understand,” Glori said. “How can an entire outpost just disappear without anyone knowing anything about it? I know you said that the Reserve is separate and protected, but surely there is some communication…”

“The Tenders usually serve for two or three seasons at a time,” Embrae explained. “The outposts are supposed to be self-sufficient, with only the barest minimum of supplies brought in. If there were more frequent exchanges with the outside, it would defeat the whole purpose of the place.”

“But surely someone must monitor…” Glori said.

“Technically, the Reserve is a royal grant,” Majerion chimed in from beside the fire. “Therefore, it’s the King’s responsibility.”

“But wouldn’t that mean that there is direct oversight…”

“Actually, it means the opposite,” the elf bard interjected. Glori remembered that habit of his, and found it just as annoying now as she always had.

“Perhaps this is not an appropriate topic in front of outsiders,” Shreskra said.

“It’s hardly a state secret,” Majerion said cheerfully. “The King, you see, has relatively little power. Most of the true levers of power are operated within the Advisory Council. Running the Reserve would be the perfect ceremonial post, if not for the power that this place represents. Thus the arcanists on the Council are happy to let the Druid run things as he wishes, as long as the power they draw from the Reserve remains intact and potent.”

“It doesn’t seem like things are running all that smoothly right now,” Kosk said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Majerion said. “So here we are.”

Glori frowned, thinking about their encounter with the Council before they’d left Tal Nadesh. Everyone has an agenda, she thought.

“This Druid character, he sounds almost like a king himself, at least in here,” Kosk said.

“A not wholly inaccurate assessment,” Majerion said, at the same time that Brightbriar and Shreskra both said, “That’s not true at all.” The three elves shared a look.

“Who is he?” Kosk asked. “How is he selected?”

Neither the Ranger leader nor the Tender looked like they wanted to answer, but after a moment Embrae said, “The Druid usually comes from within the higher ranks of the Tenders, but not always. Sometimes… sometimes people find themselves drawn to the Reserve, called to service.”

“What, you mean like an inner voice?” Glori asked.

“It’s not like that,” Brightbriar said. “More like a sense of rightness, of purpose.”

“Is that what you felt?” Glori asked Embrae.

The elf woman looked uncomfortable. “It turned out that it wasn’t my path,” she said.

Brightbriar abruptly turned toward the door. “I need some air,” he said.

“You shouldn’t head off alone,” Shreskra said.

“The Reserve holds no terrors for me,” the Tender said. Before the Ranger or anyone else could offer further comment he opened the door and was gone.

“I think I am going to go outside for a moment myself,” Glori said.

“The Ranger’s advice is sound,” Kosk said, getting up. “I will go with you.”

“No, it’s all right,” Glori said. “I just need a few minutes, before supper is ready. Razelle is out there keeping watch, and I won’t go far.”

The dwarf frowned, and it looked like he might insist, but Embrae rose and interjected, “I’ll go.” She gave Glori a knowing look.

The monk’s presence drew another protest from Shreskra, but the two women were finally able to extract themselves and go outside. It was almost full dark now, the sky marbled in the last lingering colors of the fading twilight. There was no sign of Razelle, but Glori was used to not being able to see the scout. The elf woman seemed to hide just as a matter of course.

“Thanks,” Glori said.

“Privacy is a valuable commodity at times like this,” the monk said.

“My human side is being particularly troublesome this month,” the bard replied. “Sorry, that’s probably more information than you wanted to hear.”

“Remember that I lived among humans for a long time,” Embrae said. “And in a monastery there is less privacy than in most settlements. Did you want to use one of the other buildings, or…”

“A quiet spot outside will suffice.”

“I won’t be far.”

They walked around to the far side of the building. From that side the overgrown structure was almost invisible under its cloak of greenery. Only the thin thread of smoke rising from the chimney revealed the truth.

The night had only added to the sinister mood of the abandoned outpost, and Glori didn’t linger at her task. The advancing darkness gave her enough privacy that she did not have to go further than a stone’s throw from the house, and she quickly attended to her business and cleaned herself up. But when she turned back toward the house she didn’t seem Embrae at first.

“Embrae?” she said quietly.

A slight shuffle in the grass drew her attention around, away from the camp. There was someone standing there, maybe five paces away. It was dark enough that it could have been the monk, but there was something subtly off about the silhouette, and more than that, an indefinable sense of wrongness that awoke a clutching sense of terror in Glori’s belly.

She reached for her lyre—she had not been so stupid as to leave it or her sword in the house—and strummed a quick melody. Dancing lights flared into being, surrounding the intruder and driving back the night.

As the light revealed the other, Glori opened her mouth to shout a warning. But she didn’t get a chance, as the figure suddenly lunged forward and swung an arm at her head.