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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Amaroq" data-source="post: 1315396" data-attributes="member: 15470">Issue #7: The Red Witch. Episode 3 of 5Paks rides at a hard gallop. Star is a magnificent beast, and they ride at a legendary pace. The warhorse has a great heart, and excellent stamina, and seems to understand that this is a race. There is no road, and she lets him pick his own path west through the rolling fields, a great sea of grass. Far to the left, the trees of the Mourning Marsh make a dark line on the horizon. Well off to their right there is a ridge of hills, and the nearest trees that direction By mid-morning, the horse is lathered with sweat, and Paks gives him a quick breather. There is no road, and she is worried that he might catch an ankle in a gopher hole or other unevenness, but there seems nothing to do but hope. He is still going strong, so far, and after a few minutes, she mounts up, and they continue their breakneck ride.As Paks rides, she offers prayers to all of the good gods. “Corean,” she prays under her breath, “Let me arrive in time! Tanil, goddess of the hunt, grant this horse strength! Madriel, shine your light on me!” Field mice dodge out from under his thundering hooves, and a hawk circles far above, but she sees no other signs of life, neither human nor ratman.Shortly after noon, they come upon a small stream, and she has Star halt there for another breather. She lets him drink, but leads him away before he has drank his full, lest he cramp. Her body is sore from the incessant pounding, and blisters are beginning to form where her chain mail is ill-suited to such a ride. “You’re going to last longer than I am,” she jokes to the horse, as she mounts up again. He whickers, as though amused.The ride continues, stretching endless ages, as formless plain passes under the gait of the great horse. As afternoon arrives, she can see the hill which contains the standing stones. She considers, for a brief moment, heading up the slope to see what she can see from the top of that tall hill, but she remembers that it took nearly a half hour to climb, and decides she cannot spare the time. She does turn aside, very briefly, to find water for the tiring horse, and give him one final breather before the home stretch.She knows that from the top of the hill, you can see Kratys Freehold, and she keeps a sharp lookout for ratmen, unlimbering her shield in case she is accosted. She buries her head close to Star’s neck, trying to make as small a target as she can, and offers a final wordless prayer as she gallops ever westward.In the late afternoon, Paks turns onto a dirt path leading to the freehold, without ever seeing a ratman. She finds most of the farmers out at work in the surrounding fields and orchards. They stop and stare as she gallops past; some smile and wave. It’s a sunny day, and the sun is still well above the horizon. The pastoral scene offers a strong contrast to the urgency which drives her and the great horse onwards; they do not slow, even in sight of their goal. The compound is at the top of a low hill, and consists of a wooden wall, about five feet tall, in an oblong shape perhaps two hundred feet by a hundred twenty feet.  Five wooden buildings lie around the perimeter, with the wall covering the gaps between them. It appears that only a few of the freeholders are within the walled confines of the compound.The path Paks has been riding on leads directly up to the main gate, which stands wide open in the east wall of the complex.  To the left of the main gate, nearest her, in the southeast corner of the complex, the cornerstone of the freehold is a large, two-story hall, close to twenty feet tall.  It extends for most of the south edge of the complex.  The ground floor is sheer and windowless, but there are windows on the second story. In the southwest corner of the complex, adjacent to the hall, and with a door to it from the roof of the hall, is a narrow tower, perhaps three and a half stories tall. At the top story of the tower is a bell, while on the roof there is a protective wooden crenellation, and the lone guard stands watch from that pulpit. Along the west wall, on the far side of the complex, there is a second, smaller back gate near the tower, and a low, long building, perhaps a barn or a stable.  The complex is narrowest at the northern edge, which is another barn or stable building.  Between it and the next building, in the northeast corner of the complex, there is a well.  Along the near wall, on the eastern side of the main gate, there is a single-story building with the distinctive chimney structure of a forge. Paks rides straight to the open main gate. “Ahoy, the Hold!” she yells to the guard, reigning Star to a halt a few feet outside the gate.  Star is breathing hard beneath her, his flanks heaving as he gasps for air.“Who goes there?” demands the watchman, from his post atop the narrow tower. Inside the compound, a few children come out to stare and point at the warrior atop her great horse.“It is Paksenarrion, a warrior,” she yells. “Where is your master?  I have an important message for him, and can brook no delay!”“Taryn Kratys,” he yells back, “Is my master, but he is out in the fields, I know not where! His wife, Myrs, is here. She is the lady of the hold.”“I must see her,” Paks says.“Come inside,” says the guard, and she rides into the compound.  A boy of about thirteen offers to take her horse to the stable; the guard directs her into the largest of the buildings.Paks enters a large feast hall, and there she finds the woman who must be Myrs Kratys. She is middle-aged, but carries herself with the regal air of a noble, for her husband and she are liege and lady to the freeholders. Her hair, once dark, has been streaked with grey, and her face shows the wrinkles of laugh lines overlaying a once-beautiful countenance.“Milady,” Paks says without introduction. She is still out of breath from the ride. “You must sound the alarm at once! Ratmen approach!”“What is this?” Myrs demands, “And who are you?”Paks introduces herself, and briefly tells the story. “I am Paksenarrion, milady, though most call me Paks. I and my companions were commissioned by Grilliam, the Priest of Hedrada in Southport, to disrupt a ring of slave-traders who were buying slaves and trading them to the rat-men of the swamp for drugs and poisons. Our investigation took us into the swamp, where we captured a red witch. “We interrogated her, under a spell to compel the truth from her, and she warned us that one of the disease clans is preparing to attack Kratys Freehold either tonight or tomorrow night. You must sound the alarm, and bring your people inside!”“We have had little trouble with the ratmen this year,” says Myrs. “I believe you, but I’m not sure I believe her. Are you sure that your spell was effective? Did she say why they would attack us now?”“I am no wizard, milady, to assess a spell,” Paks says, “But she sounded sincere and offered several corroborating proofs. She said that Xyler Blackfoot had become clan leader of this particular clan, and that his brother who was slain by your husband at the battle of Twotrees. Now this Xyler seeks weregild, and will attack the Freehold to wreak his vengeance.”Myrs nods her head. “Taryn did fight at the battle of Twotrees, and killed a great ratman chief there. Very well.” She rises, and cups her hands to her mouth. “Thomas!!” she yells. A young lad, redheaded and freckled, enters. “Fetch Brand to me,” Myrs commands the youth. As he scampers off, she steps outside, where she yells up to the guard, “Red! Sound the alarm! Bring everyone inside the gates, and shut them!”Myrs returns to the hall as the redheaded lad returns leading a large young man. “Paks, thank you for your warning,” Myrs says. “This is Brand, my eldest son.” He is a tall lad, in his early twenties, with the musculature of a smith or a warrior. “Brand, Paks brings us warning that a ratman clan is coming to attack us. Help Red sound the alarm.”“My companions ride behind me,” Paks tells Myrs. “There are six: four humans, an elf, and a halfling. They fight stoutly. Make sure they are let in!”“Brand, relay this to the watch,” Myrs instructs. “Shut the back gate, and to be ready to shut the main gates at the first sign of the ratmen, but do let Paks’ companions in if they should arrive before the ratmen.”Her message delivered, Paks looks completely fatigued, on the verge of collapse. “Milady,” she says, “May I beg leave of a place to sleep?”“Certainly,” Myrs says. “Thomas, set up a cot for her.”While the boy prepares a resting place, Paks goes to the stable to see to her horse, Star. The stable is the northernmost building, while the other low building is a barn housing cattle. Star is well-fed and taken care of, with oats and water already provided. The alarm bell begins to sound, and the farmers hurry to return to the safe confines of the compound. Paks gives Star a thorough rubbing down before she allows fatigue to overcome her, and she falls to sleep in a hastily prepared cot.</blockquote>

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