Tales of the Bloody Hell
Book Two: The Tree of Life
Session 5, Part 2 (from 28 Feb 2004)
Up in the crow’s nest of the Bloody Hell, Gann felt the urge to relieve himself. Bracing himself against the mast, he let a stream of urine fall to the starboard side, narrowly missing Phantar’s head.
Memories of the Aamanian tomb flooded into Phantar’s mind. Enraged, he rushed to the forecastle and spun the ballista around to face the crow’s nest. When he pulled the lever, the bolt flew into the air, destroying the underside of the crow’s nest. Gann tumbled to the deck below.
Phantar was already running to meet him, slipping his duelling sword and sword-breaker from either side of his belt. “Did you think that was funny, boy?” he mocked.
Gann didn’t waste words. Instead he sprung at the Zandiran and lifted him into the air, but he was unable to slam him to the deck. Phantar landed on his feet, and the fuming warriors faced off against each other.
Phantar stabbed at the Thrall, drawing trickles of blood on the tattooed man’s body. In response, Gann pulled his war axe and swung it at Phantar’s head, but the Zandiran slipped in close and redirected the shaft with his swordbreaker. The sword in his other hand clanged against the Thrall’s garde.
Gann smashed headlong into Phantar, the spikes of his garde finding holes in the Zandiran’s partial plate mail.
Unamused, Vidian watched his crewmembers struggling to kill each other. He calmly diverted the Bloody Hell toward the nearby maze city of Altan nestled within the Amethyst Mountains, allowing the black ship ahead of them to proceed unhindered toward Modor’s Tomb.
Phantar again attacked with both of his weapons, cutting into the thrall’s skin again and again while Gann struggled to subdue the Zandiran. Unable to stop Phantar’s attacks, Gann let go and backed away, pulling a healing elixir from his pouch.
Phantar planted a firm kick squarely on Gann’s hand, but the thrall’s grip held true, and he drank the potion. Strength flowed once more into Gann’s body, and he lunged forward. This time he lifted Phantar into the air, flipped him over backwards, and dropping him onto the deck head first. Phantar was out.
Gann took a moment to catch his breath, then dragged the Zandiran’s body to the main mast and lashed him to it.
When Phantar came to, the blade of Gann’s axe rested against his throat.
“Do that again and you die,” growled Gann.
“What’s wrong, big man?” Phantar’s scornful tone had not changed. “Were you knocked down by a little Zandiran?”
“Who’s tied to the mast?” countered Gann, and he ran the edge of his war axe down Phantar’s cheek, sending a tiny stream of blood down his chin and onto his armour.
Vidian spoke up. “Phantar’s actions may not be his own.”
Gann stopped and lowered his axe. Everyone turned to look at the captain.
“In the Aamanian tomb,” continued Vidian, “I watched the actions of Mordante closely. She cast a spell upon Phantar, and he became bestial. When she vanished, Phantar appeared to recover, but the less obvious effects of the spell may not have worn off.”
“Can I have my weapons back now,” Phantar asked, visibly more calm than before. Everyone turned to see him standing unbound next to the mast, the coil of rope at his feet.
“Take them from me,” challenged Gann through clinched teeth. Then he turned back to the captain. “Next time I throw him off the ship.”
Phantar shrugged and pulled a medicinal elixir from his pack.
Vidian steered the Bloody Hell to a flat clearing near the maze city. There the heroes were received by a representative of the Ariane, and they were ushered into the city for rest and refreshment.
Beneath the majestic dome of the traveller’s wayrest, the heroes bedded down for the night after supping upon the simple food and drink offered them. When they were finished, an Ariane brought them cups of water from Altan’s blessed fountain. This they drank, and felt restored and peaceful. Vidian, Gann, and Dar stayed awake in shifts, watching the unpredictable Zandiran as he rested. None of them saw him sleep.
When the first light of morning came, the heroes assembled before the city elders, who sat around a stone obelisk housed within a large, simply adorned building.
“We wish to inquire of your knowledge,” spoke Vidian.
“Of course,” said the chief elder, a glint of wisdom in his eye. “Knowledge is free here. How may we help you?”
“One of our number was violated in a most crude and inhuman fashion, a method that may have been magical in nature, evoking within him the feral element that all civilised beings keep restrained.”
Though Phantar’s name had not been mentioned, the eyes of the elders fell upon him.
“That bestial element,” continued Vidian, “may still be active, perhaps even controlled by she who brought it forth.”
The chief elder stood up from the stone pedestal upon which he had sat and approached Phantar. He raised his hands and mumbled something in an unknown tongue. Then he addressed Phantar directly, “No spell that has been cast remains with you. Bathe in the waters.”
“No,” said Phantar.
“That will purify your body of any poisons.”
Gann took a step toward Phantar, but Vidian held up a hand. “Let us see what he wills.”
“It has been over a week,” continued Phantar. “Any poison would have left my body already.”
The elder looked from one hero to another. “Any sickness, poisons, any vile substance affecting your body it will cleanse.” He throws his arms wide. “All may bathe in the waters.”
Phantar looked unconvinced.
“Your weapons will be returned,” said Vidian, “if only you do as they ask.”
Following these words the heroes exited the building into the courtyard of the blessed fountain. Phantar reluctantly entered the pool, followed by the other heroes. In moments, the atmosphere of the heroes changed, and laughter filled the air. Once again the heroes were jovial among themselves, and even the bitterness between the thrall and Zandiran seemed to be a distant memory.
“I do feel better,” said Phantar.
Ready for the final leg of their quest, the heroes returned to the ship and climbed aboard. Phantar rearmed himself. Vidian started the wind engine, and the Bloody Hell moved slowly off to the southeast.
Once they passed through the mountains, Vidian increased the speed of their flight, and within moments, the ship approached the jumbled structure of stone that was called Modor’s Tomb. A black windrigger hovered near the entrance.
“To arms, mates,” said Vidian to his crew, “and prepare to board the Nuthchak.”
The ground outside the tomb was crawling with warriors. Fifteen Vird in veiled costumes were locked in combat with vicious spear-wielding Araq. Also in the fray were the Red Viper and the Kang pirate the heroes had killed several days earlier in the Aamanian tomb!
Standing precariously atop the ship’s railing with unearthly balance was the scantily armoured Arimite sorceress in whose body rested the soul of a long-dead necromancer. Behind her in a chair sat Motar, bound with thick ropes.
Vidian steered the Bloody Hell alongside the pirate ship, and Phantar leapt across to the enemy deck.
As Vidian steadied himself, an old Zandiran with a long grey moustache stepped out from his hiding place behind the main mast. He wore ragged grey leather, ripped in many places. Scars covered his face and limbs.
“I have no quarrel with you,” said Phantar. “I come to return something to your mistress.” In his right hand he drew his sword. In his left he produced the dark orb that the sorceress had dropped in their earlier encounter.
The old man spoke no words but took a throwing axe from his belt and flung it at Phantar. The head of the axe buried itself in the Zandiran’s shoulder before falling to the deck of the ship.
Phantar stumbled back in pain, then he flung the orb at his attacker. It struck the old man square in the chest.
At the same time Gann jumped across to the black ship and charged the old man, knocking him down. No sooner had the old man struck the deck than he sprang back to his feet again. Gann continued running toward the Arimite woman.
When the Bloody Hell halted and the wind engine stopped, Vidian chanted words of arcane power and vanished into thin air.
When Dar struck the Arimite woman with a throwing knife, she turned to see Gann charging forward. Raising her hands, she sent a necromantic bolt at Gann. The thrall stumbled but kept his feet. As he approached her, she threw up a shield of swirling black mist in front of her. Gann swung his axe but failed to penetrate the shield.
Phantar formed an eldritch bolt and sent it at the old Zandiran, but the grey clad man raised his hand and created a barrier to absorb the magic. Phantar charged forward and lunged with his sword, shattering the barrier.
Dar switched ships long enough to cut Motar free. Motar then headed to the pirates’ ballista on the forecastle of the black ship, while Dar returned to the Bloody Hell.
Finding the ballista loaded, Motar spun the ballista around and aimed it at the old Zandiran on the deck. The bolt glanced off the old man’s side.
Phantar backed away from the elder Zandiran, dropped his weapons, and began walking toward the Arimite sorceress, while Gann turned and charged the grey-haired Zandiran once more.
At the helm of the black ship, Vidian reppeared and engaged the wind engine, spinning it around to connect the prow with the top of the stone tomb and pushing the Bloody Hell away. The ship shook. Motar lost his footing and tumbled from the forecastle. He stood up and climbed the steps to the ballista again.
The Arimite sorceress also lost her balance and fell over the side.
When the ship struck the tomb, the Araq on the ground below broke off their fight with the Vird and retreated into the stone structure. The Vird pursued, while the Red Viper and the Kang rushed to their leader, the fallen woman. Shaking her head, she rose slowly to her feet, and her companions helped her through the doorway into the tomb.
On the black ship, the elder Zandiran lost his balance and fell to the deck, then rolled to his feet and jumped over the railing, landing feet first on the ground. As the man turned away, Gann struck him with his war axe, but the blow was too weak to pierce his armour.
Phantar dove over the rail after the old man, and Gann followed.
Motar loaded another bolt into the ballista and fired it at the grey-clad Zandiran running for the tomb. The bolt struck him sidelong but failed to slow him.
Vidian left the helm, pulled a healing elixir from his pouch, and took it to Motar on the forecastle. “Drink this,” he said, “Your gear awaits you on the Bloody Hell. It now becomes a race to the Tree.” Motar gave the captain a weary nod, and the two headed for the Bloody Hell.
When Vidian and Motar reached the ship and climbed aboard, they found Dar loading the ballista and aiming it at the elder Zandiran. That bolt too struck him, and this time he stumbled, slowing him enough for Phantar to close the distance, following him into the darkened entrance of the tomb.
Gann, Dar, Vidian, and Motar also made their way to the entrance of Modor’s Tomb. Within they saw a large circular arena. The centre of the chamber was twenty feet lower than the perimeter, and around the lower level were arranged seven round doors.
In the midst of the arena on a floor of many-coloured tiles, seven Vird faced off against an equal number of Araq. Along the higher perimeter were a lesser number of Vird and Araq battling each other. On the far balcony stood the Arimite sorceress, flanked by the Red Viper and the Kang. The grey-clad Zandiran was rushing to join them.
Phantar ran into the room following the right wall. Before him an Araq fended off a scimitar-wielding Vird. Phantar struck the Vird from behind, slicing through his robes. The Vird spun around in surprise, lost his balance, and fell to the floor. Phantar moved quickly past the fallen Vird but was stopped short by the Araq’s spear.
Next into the chamber came Gann and Dar, moving along the left wall with their weapons at the ready. Gann and Dar teamed up on the Vird in front of them, but the veiled warrior saw the heroes’ approach and defended himself. The Araq beyond the Vird accidentally jammed his spear into the wall and lost his grip on it.
Finally Motar and Vidian entered the tomb. Motar untied his grappling hook and rope, hooked it into a crack in the floor of the balcony, and climbed down to the arena level. While Motar stood scanning the walls and floor, Vidian summoned an arcane bolt in the direction of the Arimite sorceress, but she raised a barrier in time to block it.
Gann swung his axe at the Vird, spitting him in two and splattering guts on the wall. Dar moved toward the Araq, but the reptilian picked up the spear he had dropped and jammed it into Dar’s side. Gann turned his axe on the Araq, cutting into his chest and knocking him down. Dar backed away, slipped on some Vird entrails, and fell to the ground.
Phantar ducked under the Araq’s spear and charged past him, heading around the edge of the room toward the Red Viper.
---BEGIN QUOTE---
QUENTIN: Okay, who’s in front of me, the Arimite, the Kang,
or the woman?
ERIC: The Arimite.
QUENTIN: What’s he doing?
ERIC: Standing there waiting for you with his sword flaming.
QUENTIN: Swordbreaker... sword... Is there an Araq or
anything coming at my back?
ERIC: Are you going to turn around and look?
QUENTIN: I’m going to look over my shoulder, but I’m not
going to take my eyes off the Arimite.
EVERYONE: What?
ERIC: Uh... he’s going to look over his shoulder, but he’s
not going to take his eyes off the Arimite. Hmm.
---END QUOTE---
As Phantar passed the Araq, the reptilian turned and stabbed the Zandiran with his spear, but the strike failed to penetrate the armour.
Gann landed his war axe squarely on the head of the Araq before him, slicing cleaning into his skull. The reptilian’s spear clattered to the floor, and Dar scooped it up while following behind the advancing thrall.
When the dark barrier protecting the sorceress dropped, Vidian launched another bolt of energy at her. She quickly raised another shield, but it disappeared in a shower of sparks as Vidian’s arcane bolt slammed into it. The Arimite woman immediately waved her hands in the air again, flinging a necromantic bolt at Vidian that took the form of a skeletal hand streaking through the air and throttling his neck.
Meanwhile Motar raised his bow and fired two adamant-tipped arrows at the elderly Zandiran. Both missiles slammed into his chest, and he tumbled to the floor.
At that moment, an awful bellowing echoed into the chamber from the entrance. Three enormous Kharakhan giants stormed into the tomb from behind the heroes, hefting great axes in their massive hands. One of the giants lowered himself down into the centre section of the arena, while the remaining two split up and advanced along the balcony, eager to crush everyone in their paths.
As Motar lowered his bow, he noticed a faint glow outlining a jumbled mosaic of green tiles in the centre of the arena. “Vidian,” he called, “The door is beneath those centre tiles!”
As one of the giants approached him, Dar threw down the Araq spear he had claimed, then dove off the balcony to the floor below. He clattered onto the stones and pulled himself to his feet among the duelling Vird and Araq, then ran to Vidian and Motar, who were examining the green tiles in the middle of the room.
On the other side of the room, the Kharakhan giant smote the Vird that stood in his way with the broad side of his axe, crushing the enemy against the wall. Continuing on, the Kharakhan swung his axe at the Araq facing Phantar. With a noise like the squashing of a melon, the giant’s axe obliterated the Araq, leaving no recognisable pieces of its body behind. Phantar now stood between a Kharakhan giant and a giant Arimite, both wielding long-handled war axes. With his back to the wall, Phantar eased closer to the Arimite. Each combatant swung his weapon in challenge to the other.
The Kharakhan giant who had lowered himself into the middle of the arena lumbered toward Motar with his axe raised, but when he approached, he suddenly turned to attack a nearby Vird, knocking it across the chamber and into the far wall.
Dar, on the other side of Motar, thrust his bladestaff into the face of an advancing Vird. As he pulled the spear free, the blood-soaked veil came with it, revealing the mutilated face of the dead Vird.
Below Motar’s feet, the floor tiles began to shake.
As the Kharakhan giant approached Gann, the thrall decided to follow Dar’s lead. With a daring backspring, the thrall leapt onto an Araq in the arena level below. The giant behind him continued on to meet the Kang in battle. The Kang sprang to the attack, slashing the giant’s abdomen and dodging the resulting counterattack.
The Arimite woman summoned a necromantic orb of force and threw it at Vidian. The orb struck him and knocked him to the floor with a thud, his face contorted in pain.
With his back to the wall, Phantar lunged at the Red Viper, but he was unable to do more than scratch him. The red-clad Arimite struck back with his flaming long sword, nearly setting Phantar’s clothing alight.
Gann attacked the Vird with his war axe, cleaving his head in two, then sliced his Araq opponent in two with his backswing.
Dar jabbed his bladestaff into the eye socket of the Vird in front of him, and when he pulled the weapon out again, brain juice spurted from the hole thus created. The Vird collapsed in a heap on the floor.
The tiles in the center of the floor flew up into the air, forming a whirlwind in the air around Motar. Beneath them lay a large round door of wood, onto which was carved the image of a many-branched tree in high relief.
Motar shouldered his bow and set his hands onto the trunk of the carven tree. Pulling with all his might, he flung the twelve-foot wide door open, and a mighty cloud of dust was sucked out into the swirling tornado of tiles around him. Then stooping to grasp the shimmering sleeve of Vidian’s spangalor armour, Motar and Dar dragged the Cymrillian down the dark staircase that lay beyond the door. There, finding that Vidian’s face no longer registered consciousness, Motar stopped on the staircase, rummaged through the pilot’s pouch, and found a medicinal elixir. He uncorked the bottle and shoved it into the Cymrillian’s mouth, letting the bright green liquid gurgle down his throat.
Reeling from the burns given him by the Red Viper’s flaming blade, Phantar tumbled off the balcony and rolled to his feet in the arena below. Crouching low, he set his sword on the stones and formed a bolt of arcane force between his fingers. This he tossed at the Arimite woman, but she cast it aside like a toy.
By this time, the Kharakhan giants had made their way around both sides of the room on the upper balcony and approached the Red Viper and the Kang. Before they could strike, the Arimite woman raised her arms and lifted into the air. Her two companions rose into the air as well, leaving nothing for the giants to attack. They glided silently and swiftly above the spinning mass of tiles, then descended down into the centre of it.
Undeterred, the giants on the balcony climbed down and lumbered toward the door.
As the potion took effect, Vidian opened his eyes and rose uneasily to his feet beside Dar.
On a lower step Motar unslung his bow and fished in his quiver for two more adamant-tipped arrows. “Can you wave your hands and light this place up?” he asked.
When Motar saw the red glow of fire above him, he thought Vidian had answered his question. Then he realised it was the harsh flame of the Red Viper’s sword. The enemy was upon them!
To be continued...
