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Back to the previous chapter: Demons
First Draft
The Bard's Hearth sailed southeast across the Brythomar, far enough out to sea that the shore was a hazy shadow on the horizon far to the left. The crew worked busily on the deck, carefully avoiding the very front of the forecastle, where Farran stood, facing towards the front, watching who-knew-what, as the chilly breeze blew over him. The sun was low to the horizon behind and to the right of the ship, casting long shadows as it slipped closer to the sea.
Kasey leaned against the railing on the starboard side, trailing a fishing line into the sea. One of the liveried servants approached the Church Knight. When the knight did not notice, the servant cleared his throat politely.
Kasey glanced towards him. "Oh, hi," he said.
"M'lord, we are serving dinner on the passenger deck. Is m'lord interested?"
"Am I?" Kasey straightened. As an afterthought, he tied the fishing line to the railing before following the servant towards the stairs.
Bilbus needed a break from the books he had borrowed from the Brallian church. The Church probably would not know the books were missing for quite a few days, but Bilbus really did intend to return them someday. He needed them so that he could find another way to shape the flows of Heka, a way that did not involve the forceful techniques that he had learned as a youth. Perhaps that way he could continue to cast magick without having to suffer the ill effects that the Great Lord had imposed upon him recently.
Adria was not feeling well -- she was aboard a boat, after all -- so she was not much fun. It was affecting her less, though. Maybe the larger ship did not rock as much.
Breanna had buried herself in books and copies of books. Kasey was fishing, and his warhorse was on the main deck, anyway. Sturm was not sober enough to really tease safely. Rishala kept mumbling about prophecy and reading through books, as well. The servants were too serious to be fun.
That left Eric.
Bilbus walked to the aft of the passenger deck and opened the door to the small brig. The room had been divided in two, with the rear half partitioned from the front by metal bars and an iron door. The cell had a bunk, while the guard's half of the room had a single, unpadded wooden chair. Why the brig was on the passenger deck was an oddity Bilbus had wondered about for a while, before he decided he needed something more entertaining for a break from his studies.
Eric sat on the bunk in the rear half, legs folded. He looked peaceful, but his eyes flicked immediately to Bilbus.
"Hey, Eric," Bilbus said as he dropped into the chair.
"Hello, demon-Bilbus," Eric replied nonchalantly.
"So, are you ready to stop being crazy?"
"You still pretend that I am crazy. Just because you were able to possess all of my friends does not mean you will possess me, as well."
Bilbus kept from chuckling.
"You know, demon-Bilbus, the captain keeps his treasury in a secret compartment beneath my bunk. I found it today while trying to escape. It is really clever of him, don't you think? I am sure you are aware that the man you possessed is a thief of sorts. That is probably why you possessed him. Just think. You can rob some humans, and all the blame will be on the man you possessed. All you have to do is let me out so that you can get the treasure yourself."
Bilbus had started to wonder if Eric were telling the truth, but he dismissed it almost immediately. Still, the thought of Eric running free through the riggings with half the crew chasing him was hard to dismiss. Bilbus reached into one of his hidden jacket pockets and produced a key that he slid across the floor to Eric.
"Have fun," Bilbus said.
Someone was approaching down the hallway. Bilbus glanced over his shoulder to see Kasey.
The Church Knight leaned into the room. "Bilbus, it's supper. Come on." The blond knight looked at Eric. "Hi, Eric. How are you?"
"Hi, demon-Kasey. I am fine."
Kasey turned his attentions back to Bilbus. "The food is going to get cold."
"Yeah, Kase. I'll be along in a minute."
Kasey leaned back out of the room. Bilbus heard the heavy footsteps head back up the hallway. A moment later, lighter steps approached.
"Hi, Eric. Hi, Bilbus," Breanna greeted the two cheerfully.
"Hello... Bree..." Eric replied in a strangely paced voice.
"I brought you supper," Breanna said as she slid a tray of food through a small slit at the base of the door.
"Thank... you... Bree..."
Bilbus watched Eric inspect the tray. The explorer picked up the spoon on the tray -- the only utensil Breanna provided -- and pondered it for a few seconds. He then inspected the bread and soup on the tray.
Eric looked at his two captors. "So kind of you to provide me poisoned food. I am sure it will weaken me so that you may possess me as well, demon-Bilbus."
Bilbus snorted derisively. "Oh, please. I didn't poison the food. There is no need when the air is poisoned."
Bilbus heard heavy footsteps in the hallway again. Must be Sturm, the con man decided.
Sturm called out in a strangled voice, "Air! Poison!" The Sun Knight collapsed to the ground in the hallway.
Bilbus laughed as he looked into the hallway at the knight. Sturm's face was out of sight of Eric, but Bilbus could see it from his vantage point.
"Drag me out of here," Sturm whispered.
Bilbus stood and stretched. "Well, Eric, enjoy your meal. I need to dispose of demon-Sturm's body." He turned to Breanna and winked. "Demon-Bree, we will see you in the dining room momentarily."
Breanna scowled at the mountebank as he dragged Sturm away from the door.
Eric's possessed friends had finally left him. He gathered his bed covers and the tray with its food and arranged it on the bunk, covering it until it looked like a form curled up underneath the blankets. The spoon he tucked into the waistband of his trousers, where he could quickly draw it. The explorer was heartened to know that the demonic possession was not entirely successful, for Bilbus had overcome the demon long enough to slip him the key to his cell. It was a shame that Bilbus had to die to expel the demon.
The explorer put the key into the keyhole and turned it quietly. With a "click" that was louder than comfortable, the door swung open. Eric tucked the key into his waistband, then went to the door that led to the hallway. He listened carefully for signs of the demons or their minions. Hearing nothing, he went back to the cell door and closed it, resetting the lock afterwards.
Through the door and into the hallway Eric sneaked. He needed to find the demon-Bilbus's room to set traps that would ensure the demon no longer could control its host, for a dead host was difficult to control. And, since the demon-Bilbus was controlling the other demons, Eric knew his weapons would be in demon-Bilbus's room, as well.
Eric could just hear the voices of his possessed friends through the wall to his right. The dining room must be there, for there was one door, several paces ahead on the right. The left side of the hallway had several doors -- the staterooms, no doubt. Now to find demon-Bilbus's room.
Breanna was lost in thought as she ate her soup. She had a stack of notes in the empty spot on the table next to her soup bowl, and she was carefully studying them as she slurped soup from her spoon. Her friends were talking, but she was more interested in her notes right now.
Creak.
Breanna paused for a second. There were always creaking noises coming from a ship, but this one sounded different. When the sound did not immediately repeat itself, she went back to her studies.
Creak.
Breanna set down her soup spoon. "Did you hear that?" she asked suddenly.
"Hear what?" Adria asked from across the table.
"I think someone is sneaking in the hallway." Breanna got up and went to the door on the left side of the room.
Creak.
Breanna opened the door and peeked into the hallway. Eric was in the middle of the hallway, comically tiptoeing towards her in slow motion. When the explorer saw Breanna, he dived towards the nearest door.
Breanna groaned loudly. "Eric's loose again! He's in my room."
She ran down the hallway towards her stateroom. As she reached for the door latch, she heard the loud clunk of the lock being set. Groaning in frustration, Breanna fished in her coin purse for the door key. Kasey rushed out of the dining room to stand in front of the door. Breanna produced the key just as Kasey kicked her door open.
The door fell to the ground with Eric pinned beneath it. The Church Knight pushed the door aside and grabbed Eric, with one hand clamped around each of Eric's arms. Kasey picked Eric up, holding him so that he was several inches above the floor. A large bruise was already discoloring Eric's forehead.
"Demon-Kasey! Isn't that demon-Meridaun behind you?"
Kasey did not even bother looking.
"Are you sure you should not check?" Eric asked.
Eric's left hand slowly inched closer to Kasey's Church Knight dagger. His fingers touched the ornate pommel, and Kasey was still unaware.
Breanna, however, saw Eric's fingers slowly wrapping around the dagger. She lunged forward, hastily completing the sleep casting that she had started. Eric saw her and tried to draw Kasey's dagger, but Breanna grabbed Eric's wrist. Once more, Eric went limp.
Kasey backpedaled into the hallway, still holding Eric. He saw Sturm standing outside the dining room. "Sturm, help me haul Eric back to his cell."
The two knights carried the unconscious explorer towards the rear of the ship, following Breanna to the brig.
Breanna entered the brig. The cell door was locked, and there was a mound on the bed. "Where's the key?" the healer asked, irritated.
Kasey held Eric as Sturm frisked the sleeping explorer. The Sun Knight found both the spoon and the key in Eric's trousers. He offered the key to Breanna, who took it and opened the cell door. She charged into the cell, drawing her dagger as she did so, and stabbed the mound on the bed. The dagger hit the food tray, making a metallic "ping" as it did so. Breanna snarled, put her dagger away, and threw the bed covers onto the floor.
"Maybe we should tie him up," Sturm suggested. "It slowed him down last time."
Breanna left the cell, saying nothing.
Kasey and Sturm put Eric on his bunk and covered him with one of the blankets. Kasey went to find the rope they had used in Brallian, and Sturm tied the explorer to the bed. Once both knights were confident the bonds would hold, they locked Eric in the cell, then returned to their dinners, leaving the rest of the bed covers and the spilled bowl of soup in the brig.
The following morning, Meridaun went to the brig cell to utter a prayer of healing over Eric. As she reached the door to the brig, Breanna and Rishala intercepted her.
"Mother Meridaun?" Breanna asked tentatively. "You said you can teach me the mind healing prayer, right?"
Meridaun nodded.
"Can you teach it to Rishala, as well?"
"Of course," Meridaun replied. "It is an easy prayer, and it does not take much effort to ask the gods for their help for this one. Come with me, and I will teach it to you."
Meridaun entered the brig, with Rishala and Breanna behind her. Breanna opened the cell door -- Eric was still restrained on his bunk -- then stepped aside to give Meridaun access to the prisoner. Eric eyed the three of them with undisguised distrust.
Meridaun ignored Eric as she talked her two students through the steps of the prayer. She then demonstrated it on Eric, touching his head as she recited the prayers. There was a small surge of Heka in the room as the gods answered her request.
"Go ahead and try it on him," Meridaun urged Breanna.
Breanna recited the prayer carefully. At the end of the prayer, she felt the surge of magick as the healing energies passed through her. Rishala followed suit afterwards, likewise helping Eric's healing.
"With both of you helping," Meridaun said, "Eric will be better in just a few days.
Meridaun left the room as Breanna started tending to her fiance. Rishala lingered a few moments in case Eric tried to break free once more.
The ship had been underway for a week and a half. Good weather and friendly winds had allowed the ship to make good progress towards Hellenas.
Early in the morning, well before dawn, Sturm tossed fitfully in his bed.
The trip to al-Rhayidh had been harrowing, to say the least: the drow cavern-city of Erelhei Cinlu, with its myriad of pitfalls, had been just one stop on the journey. The strange dreamlands, and the weeks Sturm and his companions spent there in one night, were a fading memory, although the encounter with the herd of kelpies was still fresh in Sturm's mind. The perpetual twilight of Vladomani's realm, with its lingering feel of death and decay, still haunted Sturm's dreams. Gas Bulg, the foul, arcane spear Vladomani had, was now in Sturm's hands - figuratively. He did not enjoy even touching the spear, for it left an emptiness afterwards, as if something had been taken away.
But those times were past. Ahead lay only the trip across the deserts of al-Rhayidh, over the treacherous Vulcan's Furnace mountains, and through the Wasted Lands. And the fate that loomed at the end of the journey.
Eric had suggested seeking an audience with the Caliph of al-Rhayidh, to see if the Caliph would lend some of his army to the party to help get through the Vulcan's Furnace and the Wasted Lands beyond. Since the party was landing in al-Qayir, the capitol of al-Rhayidh, anyway, it would not add much time to the trip to try to get assistance.
Sturm and his companions had gathered on the forecastle of the Bard's Hearth, watching as they sailed closer to the city of al-Qayir. The heat was palpable, but even on the sea the humidity was not excessive. Sweat ran down everyone's faces, but Sturm had noticed that Bilbus showed fewer outward signs of the heat than he should have, considering he still wore his black leather armor.
The city south of the ship was large, maybe even larger than Londoun. Far to the south, along one of the banks of a large river, was the walled estate of the Caliph. West of the city, clearly visible despite the distance, were the four Pyramids of Duzai, the Caliphate's national reserve of Heka.
"The harbor seems pretty empty," Rishala commented. "Al-Qayir is supposed to be a major port."
There were fewer than a dozen ships in the harbor, and perhaps that many ships along the docks that lined the far side of the harbor. Eric had his spyglass out, scanning the city's waterfront.
"That's odd," the explorer muttered.
"What's odd?" Sturm asked suspiciously.
"I don't see anyone working the docks."
The tension on the deck of the ship increased dramatically. Sturm knew something was wrong, and he had a hunch that he knew what it was.
The Bard's Hearth sailed closer to the docks. Eric kept surveying the waterline, and now Sturm and Bilbus were likewise searching for signs of the people of al-Qayir. The docks were abandoned, and the ships in harbor and tied to the docks were likewise unoccupied.
As he kept scanning across the building fronts, Sturm stopped to look down one of the wide avenues, the one leading towards the Caliph's walled compound on the southern end of the city. There were people moving in the streets. A few more seconds spent watching the shapes moving in the street corrected that impression:
"Orcs," the Sun Knight said to the rest of the party. "Orcs are in al-Qayir."
The orcs had spotted the ship. They were rushing towards the shores, carrying bows.
On the stern deck of the ship, Captain Laechille bellowed orders to the crew. "Bring us about! Now! Before we get into range of their arrows!" The last encounter with orcs had convinced Laechille of the need to steer clear of orc long bows.
The first arrows were sailing through the air, still falling short of the ship, but the orcs were only firing ranging shots.
"Oh, gods," Bilbus shouted as he pointed towards the shore. "They have a mage!"
Sturm could not see which of the orcs had alarmed Bilbus, but he could see blue lightning racing up and down the white sides of one of the pyramids.
The bolt of energy from the shores was incredible. There was a blinding, bluish-white flash and the ship exploded into splinters. As the spots cleared from Sturm's eyes, he could see the mangled bodies of his compatriots, limbs ripped from bodies, floating in water that was quickly turning red. He could feel his own life force quickly draining away, and he could no longer feel his legs.
As darkness settled over him, Sturm could hear the familiar, disembodied voice of the Dark One laughing mockingly.
"Bilbus!" the voice whispered.
The mountebank rolled onto his back and nudged his wife, who was sleeping quietly next to him. She slapped him without waking.
"Bilbus!" the voice whispered again, insistently.
Now awake, Bilbus realized that what he thought was a single voice was dozens, perhaps hundreds, all whispering quietly, almost at the same time. It was a sound of madness, and the sudden chill and tightness in his chest chased away any remaining vestiges of sleep the mountebank had been keeping. The mountebank slowly reached under his pillow for the adamantine dagger he kept there.
"Bilbus is not here," the mountebank said when he found his voice. He nudged Adria insistently, but she did not stir.
"Such games," the numerous voices whispered.
Bilbus looked into the darkness, trying to see the source of the voices, for they all came from the same dark corner of the room. The curtains over the porthole were open, but there was no moon this night, and the feeble light of the stars did little to help.
There was a rustle as the nighttime visitor moved around to Adria's side of the bed. As the dark silhouette crossed the porthole, Bilbus could see the edge of the robe flickering, as if many of them were appearing and disappearing in close succession.
The Shadow Kindred spoke again in its maddening whisper. "Such a shame that you turn your back on a benefactor who provides such fine gifts as this." It waved an arm over Adria. "It would be a pity if something happened to this gift."
The Shadow Kindred ran one of its pale hands along Adria's exposed forearm. In the darkness, it was hard to be sure, but Bilbus thought he saw a darkening line along her arm.
"The Great Lord is far more fogriving than I am. I would not tolerate your games for so long. But he has ordered me to deliver this message: You will be contacted in Hellenas. The Great Lord expects an answer. For your sake, I hope you give him the right answer. But I would enjoy you more if you did not..."
The Shadow Kindred glided silently to the door of the stateroom. It turned the catch of the door and pulled it open.
Bilbus sat upright, a lopsided grin on his face as he started tossing the adamantine dagger into the air and catching it in the near-total darkness.
"I have one question for the Great Lord," the mountebank said, a cocky arrogance in his voice instead of the fear he should have had. The Shadow Kindred paused at the door. "Why invade? All of that pointless destruction. Why didn't he just travel to Camelough for a kingly visit with Uther. He could have used a spell on him right then and there, and he would have won. I wouldn't work for someone who couldn't figure that one out."
The Shadow Kindred said nothing as it left the room. Bilbus leaped out of bed and looked into the hallway. A servant was against the wall, staring at the Shadow Kindred in abject terror. Bilbus screamed wordlessly after the Shadow Kindred.
Sturm awoke suddenly. The injury on his shoulder that the Shadow Kindred had given him all those months ago was throbbing, enough to be noticed. But that was not what had awaken him. A scream nearby had shattered the relatively quiet rush of water outside the ship. The Sun Knight leaped to his feet, reaching for Gretorixmar as he did so.
The scream snapped Eric immediately awake. After the demons had left his friends several days ago, they had released him. Things seemed normal, although Bilbus's hair was an odd red color. Breanna explained that she had done it to disguise the mountebank while they were in Brallian.
Eric grabbed Fragarach and ran to the door. He could hear Breanna behind him jumping out of bed and grabbing her healer's kit.
The Azirian swung his door open and looked into the hallway. To his left, at the next door, was Bilbus, looking away from him down the hall. A servant was against the far wall of the hall, near the dining room door, pale of face and huddled against the ground. Dark robes, flickering oddly in the dim lantern-light of the hallway, were disappearing up the stairs at the end of the hall.
Heavy footsteps approached from behind. Eric glanced back to see Kasey, wearing only his small clothes, racing down the hall towards the fleeing intruder, his ancient Caledonian greatsword in hand. Eric ducked back to let the Church Knight pass, then raced after him. He could hear Breanna and one other person behind him.
Kasey bounded up the stairs, four at a time, and Eric struggled to keep pace with the knight. Breanna was close behind until they reached the stairs. She must have stumbled on her shift, for Eric heard her fall, cursing as she did so. Kasey and Eric would face the intruder alone, at least initially.
Kasey rushed onto the deck, giving Eric a clear view shortly after. Something rustled in the darkness off the deck to the right. The explorer stopped quickly to face it.
In the darkness, it was hard to see clearly. Something was flying away on leathery, tattered wings. It was the size of a large horse, and Eric could see a rider on its back. He remembered the dream he had just over a week ago, in which the Shadow Kindred stood with steeds. Eric knew he was seeing one of those steeds flying away with its rider.
Kasey stomped his foot in frustration. He swung his greatsword about, venting frustration into an aggressive practice session. The Church Knight grumbled to himself as he moved about the deck, staying clear of crew and ship as he swung the large sword about.
Breanna arrived on deck, with Rishala close behind her. The rest of the party was streaming upwards behind them.
"It's gone," Eric said simply. "It flew away on something."
"What was it?" Breanna asked.
Bilbus answered behind her, "Shadow Kindred." Before Breanna could say anything else, Bilbus added, "Is that crewman okay down there? He looked hurt."
Breanna hurried back down the stairs, with Adria following.
Rishala stood close to Bilbus. "What was it doing here?" the Caledonian asked in a low voice.
"It wanted to chat," Bilbus said dismissively.
"About what?!?" Rishala asked, his voice rising.
"Oh, this and that. It thinks I need to talk to its boss."
Rishala threw his arms up in frustration and stomped back down the stairs.
The rest of the party eventually followed him back down, leaving Kasey alone on deck to finish calming himself down.
The sun was just above the horizon, rising into a sky of brilliant blue. Kasey was on the main deck, tearing chunks off of a hot loaf of bread as he watched the sun rising off of the port bow. Farran once more was on the forecastle, watching the waves ahead of the ship.
Rishala stood near Kasey, watching a few wispy clouds on the horizon. The story teller glanced over his shoulder when he heard someone approaching.
Captain Laechille bowed. "My apologies, m'lords. It appears that there are three ships following us. I fear they may be Swamp Pirates."
Kasey immediately rushed to the back of the ship. Rishala walked with the captain to the back. Sure enough, on the horizon behind the ship were the dark shapes of three ships.
"How soon will they overtake us?" Rishala asked the captain.
"I don't know yet. It may be close to midday. Not likely sooner."
Sturm joined the two on the poopdeck.
"We're being followed," Rishala informed the knight.
"Of course," Sturm said.
"It will be a while before they overtake us," Rishala added.
"A few hours, at least," the captain clarified.
"We'll need the time to get ready for them," Sturm said grimly. To the captain, he asked, "What sort of defenses do you have? Is there a ballista somewhere below decks?"
The captain shook his head. "We don't normally do long overseas trips. Most of our hires are for a few days near Brallian. And I did not have time to hire marines before we sailed."
Sturm growled to himself.
"Should I get everyone else up here?" Rishala asked.
"Might as well," Sturm said.
Rishala climbed back down to the main deck, then down the stairwell to the passenger deck. He stopped at Bilbus and Adria's room and rapped lightly on the door. The assassin opened the door, brushing a few locks of her golden hair out of her face as she did so. She had a night shift on, but it looked like she had been awake for a while.
Rishala looked at the bandaging on her forearm, but did not ask her about it. "We're being followed by pirates. The crew has nae defenses. Sturm wants to organize some defenses."
Adria glanced back into the room. "He's asleep. How long do we have?"
Rishala shrugged. "They're on the horizon behind us. The captain is guessing midday. Can you use your bow?"
"I should be able to. Why don't you let Bilbus get a little more sleep?"
Rishala nodded. Adria shut the door quietly. Rishala went to the next door, Eric and Breanna's room. He rapped lightly on this door as well.
Eric opened the door, fully dressed.
"We have pirates following us," Rishala repeated. "They may overtake us by midday."
Eric nodded, then went back into his room to gather his bow and spyglass.
It was about the middle of the morning. Rishala had followed Eric to the crow's nest on the tallest of the three masts. As long as he did not look down, Rishala was fine. Instead, he concentrated on watching the approaching ships. They had closed distance quickly over the course of the morning, and they were now little more than five miles away, still sailing line abreast.
"They're close enough, I think," Rishala said before he shaped a casting.
The story teller concentrated on the magickal casting. His viewpoint was a mile away from the pirate ships, about a hundred feet in the air. He focused on moving his clairvoyant point of view towards the ship that was in the middle. As his flying magickal weave got closer to the ship, he realized that it was an oddly-shaped ship, like none he had seen before. The ship seemed almost bulbous from the front, with a prominent deck at the prow. As he got closer, he realized that there was a large ballista mounted on the front deck.
He flew his view over the ship to look at the crew. The large forms in dark armor were regrettably familiar. Many of the orcs carried long bows, while others climbed in the rigging, manning the sails.
A nearby, shrill whistle broke Rishala's concentration.
"Helloooo, Rishala," Bilbus said. "I said, are you listening?"
Rishala scowled at the mountebank. Bilbus had climbed up the rigging and jutted his head through the open trapdoor in the floor of the crow's nest, and he had been asking Rishala something.
"No, ye dolt. I was looking at the orc pirate ships."
"Orcs? How do you know? Eric's got the spyglass."
Rishala wiggled his fingers and made a humming noise.
"Well, yeah, you could do it that way. Hey, do you know how to do levitation?"
"No. Why?"
"I could teach you. I thought we could take a barrel -- or a kettle, better yet -- and fill it with pitch, light it, and fly it over one of the pirate ships. We could torch it easily."
"Interesting idea," Rishala said distantly as he once more focused on his casting.
The orc archers had several upright cases of arrows arranged on the deck, and they had what had to be pitch pots of their own. Rishala flew past the end of the ship and turned to approach from behind. He saw the banner hanging from the back of the ship, a large flag in blue with a simplistic orc foot in the middle of it.
"Wet Foot Tribe," Rishala said. "I should let the rest of them know what we're up against." Before he climbed down from the crow's nest, Rishala quickly checked the other two ships. Both of them were also Wet Foot Tribe ships.
It was late morning. Kasey had gotten into full armor, and he paced impatiently on the rear deck, waiting for the orcs to close and board. Sturm waited on the main deck, where the orcs would be less likely to spot him and target him.
Eric and Rishala still manned the crow's nest, both of them keeping bows and plenty of arrows close at hand. Bilbus had once more climbed to the trapdoor of the nest and was describing a new plan.
"How about this, Eric. We raise a quarantine flag. We're a quarantine ship, with many very sick people aboard. They wouldn't want to board, because they would all get sick, as well. I'm sure the captain knows what the flag for a quarantine ship is."
"That is a fine plan, Bilbus," Eric said calmly as he watched the approaching ships. "There are a couple of small problems that I can think of. First, what if the orcs don't use the same flag to indicate a quarantine ship? Second, what if they don't plan to board? Maybe they just want to burn this ship to the waterline for fun. They are orcs."
"Do you have a better idea?" Bilbus asked crossly.
Eric looked through his spyglass at the approaching ships. He raised his arm and waved broadly at one of the ships. An orc in that ship's crow's nest waved back, then another orc in that nest pushed the first out, letting him fall to his death on the deck below.
"I have an idea," Rishala said. "Bilbus, move your head. I need to talk to Farran."
Bilbus climbed down the rope ladder, taking care not to look up at the kilted Caledonian. Eric climbed down as well, curious to see what Rishala had in mind.
Rishala waved to Kasey, who approached the story teller. "I need to talk to Farran," Rishala said.
"Okay. He's right there." Kasey pointed at the roan standing on the forecastle.
"I know. But I want you to come with us."
"Okay." Kasey followed Rishala to the warhorse.
"Farran, I would like to put a casting on you to make you larger. About twice as large. Would you be willing to push the ship if I did that? We may be able to get away from the orcs pirates."
Farran snorted.
"Do you think it would make enough of a difference?" Eric wondered. "Even twice as big as he is, he still is much smaller than this ship."
"That's true," Rishala conceded. "May I try anyway?" he asked the horse.
Farran snorted dismissively, but did not step away. Rishala interpreted that as an agreement, so he weaved the enlargement casting into the kelpie-horse.
When he finished, Farran looked the same.
Rishala's brows furrowed. He reviewed the casting, positive that he had weaved it correctly. Could Farran's kelpie blood be interfering? the Caledonian wondered.
"Hey, this is a neat illusion!" Kasey yelled. "He is bigger, but he doesn't look any bigger!"
"No, Kasey," Eric said quietly. "Nothing happened."
"Oh," Kasey said, confused.
"What if Farran kicked out the orcs' rudders?" Eric asked. "If they can't maneuver, we can evade them pretty easily."
Bilbus nodded. "That might work. Aren't the rudder poles reinforced with steel bands?"
Eric nodded. "Yes, they are. But the banding on the rudder is probably far enough apart that Farran can break the rudder into a number of pieces." He looked at the warhorse. "Do you think you could do that for us?"
Farran paused for a moment, then snorted a response. The warhorse paused again, then moved its head up and down in an approximation of a nod. He turned and leaped off the ship, diving beneath the surface.
"If this doesn't work, we better be ready for them to close." Bilbus said. "I can put a shield over the ship like I did in the dwarven citadel. It won't stop their arrows, but it will harm the orcs if they try to cross it."
The mountebank channeled the raging torrent of Heka that he could feel. Forcing it into the proper shape, he fought the wave of nausea building in his stomach. The weave completed, forming an invisible shield around the ship, and Bilbus passed out.
Breanna checked the unconscious mountebank, and moved him closer to the main mast until he recovered.
Rishala weaved another clairvoyance casting and sent it towards the orc ships. He watched the ships for some time before he saw indications that something was amiss. There was activity on the rear deck of the ship that was farthest out to sea -- the one on the left when Rishala faced aft. The tillerman was fighting a tiller that kept vibrating and jumping away from him. Two other orcs gesticulated wildly, and one of them ran belowdecks for several minutes. Another orc looked over the side of the ship, shaking its head.
The orc who had disappeared returned with a nautical chart. It spread it on the poopdeck and pointed to a spot on the charts. Rishala moved the casting closer to them to see what they were looking at. The chart had what appeared to be depth readings, and the spot where the orc pointed was deep water, presumably where the ship was. One of the other orcs backhanded the orc with the chart savagely, then wadded the chart and threw it overboard.
After a few minutes of the tiller vibrating occasionally, the tillerman suddenly fell over as the tiller arm swung freely towards him. The ship did not change course, even though the tiller was pointed halfway towards the side of the ship.
Beneath the waves, Farran trotted towards the next ship as pieces of the wooden tiller floated towards the surface. It was a challenge to maintain concentration, but the half-kelpie could move like a true kelpie beneath the waters if he tried. The water would offer no resistance to movement, yet could provide a good surface for the hooves at the same time. Farran trotted through the water as easily as he would on a good field. Breathing the water was much easier for Farran, and he did not need to think about it when he was submerged.
The middle ship loomed overhead in the water. Farran angled upwards, still trotting -- it felt like trotting up a hill -- until he was near the rudder. He turned his back towards the rudder and kicked violently with both steel-shod hind feet. The thick wood of the rudder chipped and cracked, so Farran kicked again. Several more kicks resulted in a large piece of the rudder breaking free. Another minute of kicking resulted in the rest of the rudder fragmenting. One last blow, and the pieces of the rudder were broken free of the shaft.
Farran spotted a shadow over the side of the ship overhead. The tillerman was hanging over the edge of the ship, still holding the long tiller arm. The orc slipped and fell into the water. Farran galloped towards the surface and bit the orc's leg, holding on as he dragged the foul-tasting beast beneath the waves. The splash of numerous arrows followed futilely. Farran released the tillerman deep in the water and ripped the orc's throat open, leaving the orc to drown or bleed to death. There was still one more ship.
Farran raced towards that last ship, diving deeper when he noticed the sporadic arrows being loosed into the water around the rear of the ship. The warhorse came up beneath the ship, looking through water that seemed clear as air to his supernatural eyes. The rudder's shaft had cracks, and the metal banding on it was in worse shape than those of the other two ships. Farran positioned himself for the awkward shot, then kicked hard at the joint where the rudder shaft and the top of the rudder connected.
There was a loud crack, and the entire rudder broke free, floating to the surface behind the orc warship.
Two of the orcs aboard the ship dived overboard to fetch the rudder. Farran positioned himself beneath one of them and kicked him in the head, driving the sharp steel tip of his horseshoe through the orc's thick skull. He then turned and rushed the other orc before it had a chance to react. He grabbed the second orc by the leg and dragged him beneath the waves.
In the bluish seascape, Farran could see sharks converging towards the orc had killed behind the second ship. The warhorse dragged his struggling prey towards the sharks, then savagely bit the orc's foot off, spitting the distasteful thing out before too much ichor could seep into his mouth. The sharks started circling the body as it rose towards the surface, and there was soon a frenzy of sharks basking in their bloodlust.
Farran once more dove deep and trotted towards the Bard's Hearth.
Rishala watched the entire act of destruction from his magickal viewpoint above the orc ships. Once the last ship had been damaged, he released his concentration on the clairvoyance to report his observations.
"They won't be able to maneuver, now," Sturm said. "Bilbus, help me prepare a fire dingy."
Bilbus smiled evilly as he ran to fetch some buckets of pitch. The Sun Knight and the mountebank quickly loaded a dingy with buckets of pitch and plentiful kindling. They lowered the dingy overboard and set it adrift. It fell behind the Bard's Hearth, smoking lightly as the three warships, still under full sail, closed.
Captain Laechille ordered his crew to tack, and the Bard's Hearth turned to sea, easily leaving the orc ships behind. The party watched the fire on the dingy blaze to light as it got close to the third of the three ships. Soon, the prow of the warship was blazing as well.
As the fire raged on that ship, Farran tried to return to the Bard's Hearth. He reached the invisible shield Bilbus raised and felt a sudden pain in his snout. He surface, putting his neck and head above the water, and stared at the party.
"Bilbus," Rishala began, "I think Farran is ready to come back aboard. Did ye raise that shield of yours?"
"Yes," Bilbus said.
"I think ye can lower it now."
"No. I may not be able to raise it again, and those orcs, or their friends, might come after us yet. Farran can push through the shield, then Bree can heal him."
"I don't think he likes that idea," Rishala said as he watched the horse lay back its ears just ten paces behind the ship. "How long will the shield last?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe a day." Bilbus looked over the railing at the kelpie. "Hey, you can stand swimming for a day, right?"
Farran snorted, his ears still laid back.
Bilbus turned to Kasey and lowered his voice. "Do you think you can sweet talk your horse into not killing me?"
"I don't think you need to worry about that, Bilbus. He seems to like you. For a stall toy, at least."
"Great..." Bilbus said. His voice trailed off when he saw Farran galloping across the surface of the water to one side of the ship
The Bard's Hearth sailed peacefully for another week and a half, passing beyond the Great Swamp and on to the northern extents of Hellenas. The orc raiders never found the ship again, and the weather had continued to be favorable for the second half of the journey.
The ship was nearing Saronus, the port city that connected Athenapolis, the capitol of Hellenas, with the rest of the world. The port city, with its two harbors, was already filling the horizon ahead of the ship.
On the shore just off the port side of the ship, on a high cliff, was a large, white marble building. The building was little more than numerous pillars supporting a roof thirty paces overhead. If there were any walls in the building, they were not visible at sea.
"That must be the Temple of Love," Breanna said.
"Huh?" Bilbus blurted.
Breanna held out a book. "I found this in the library in the church in Brallian. It was an older edition, and the Mother of the Library said I could take it with me. It describes a Temple of Love several miles north of the harbors of Athenapolis." Breanna frowned as she looked at the temple. "Some of those pillars are oddly shaped."
Bilbus snapped his spyglass up and looked at the temple. He snickered as he offered the spyglass to Breanna. Her face flushed red when she realized what the pillars had been shaped to represent. She gave the spyglass back to Bilbus and walked away.
"Wait. You read that book about Hellenas? So you know what to expect."
The rest of the party gathered around as Breanna related some of the details she had gleaned from the travelogue.
"Well, Hellenas is not a kingdom. They have what they call a 'republic', where the rulers are selected by the people from a pool of qualified leaders. Oh, and they have three classes of people: leaders, soldiers, and citizens. The leaders lead the people and teach in the primary schools, the soldiers are city watch and an army, and the citizens are everyone else. They separate children into the three classes during their school years after doing tests.
"Visitors are required to carry papers at all times. We get the papers from a Customs House on our way out of the port area. Oh, another thing: Hellenas has weapons restrictions."
Someone murmuered.
"What kind of restrictions?" Bilbus asked.
"No polearms. It sounds like that includes spears and bigger weapons. I don't know about staves. No ranged weapons -- bows and crossbows are specifically mentioned." Breanna paused. "And no blades longer than a dagger."
"Great..." Bilbus said. He walked away from the party.
"So what do we do with them?" Eric asked.
"The Customs House has secure lockers to store weapons."
Sturm growled, "I am not putting a two thousand year old magickal sword in a locker."
"What if we keep them on ship?" Eric asked. "For that matter, do we want to keep Bard's Hearth? It is expensive."
"Oh, we keep it," Sturm said.
Eric looked curiously at Sturm. "Then I will ask Meridaun if she can make continued arrangements. It would be easier for us to keep the ship."
As the party got closer to the port city of Saronus and the Xanteros Harbor, Sturm stood on the forecastle, surveying the harbor with his spyglass. There were dozens of ships of every description at anchor in the harbor, and more ships against the numerous piers.
"What are you looking for?" Eric asked the Sun Knight.
"Just making sure there are no orcs on the docks."
Eric shook his head as he walked away. He noticed Bilbus on the main deck with a large wooden box, so he went to see what Bilbus was doing.
"I am delivering some seaweed samples to the Academy," Bilbus said as he showed Eric a packing list and letter of instruction.
Both had handwriting that was very similar to Bilbus's, but the mountebank had done a good job changing it just enough. Eric looked at the box. It was just over a pace long, about three-fourths of a foot wide, and half a foot deep. A slow drip of brine came from the lowest corner of the box, and the wood used to assemble it was rough and hastily assembled.
"Do you think you can really get that through the Custom's House, Bilbus?"
"Take a deep whiff of the seaweed. It's noxious."
"And you aren't worried about hiding a sword in it?"
"Hey, adamantine doesn't rust, right?"
Eric kept his voice calm and reasonable. "Bilbus, you realize what will happen if they catch you with a sword, right? If you are lucky, you will be imprisoned. If you use the sword, it could be a death sentence."
"They won't catch me," Bilbus said confidently.
A harbor master guided the Bard's Hearth close to an empty pier, and harbor boats pushed the ship close enough to the pier that dockworkers were able to haul it in using ratcheting pulleys. The gangplank was lowered, and the party went down the stairs. The crew unloaded Farran by sling, placing the foul-tempered kelpie-horse on the docks for Kasey to free.
The party walked down the pier, but Meridaun remained aboard the ship. Bilbus had his smelly crate of seaweed on one shoulder, and Kasey led Farran at the back of the group. Both Breanna and Adria had changed into noble silk dresses, leaving armor behind with swords.
There was a road at the end of the pier that led towards the harbor walls -- the entire Xanteros Harbor region was walled off from the rest of Saronus. Buildings lined both sides of the road, and cluttered the entire waterfront of the harbor region.
Breanna stopped to inspect the name of the building on the left. "That's funny," she muttered.
"What's funny?" Bilbus asked as he stopped next to her.
"I don't recognize that word. I assume it's Trade Tongue."
Bilbus looked at the building name. It had been painted on boths sides of the corner of the building, so it was visible from the waterfront road or the road into town. The Hellenic name was on top, but underneath that name was the Trade Tongue name, "Youmee Gowamwam." Bilbus chuckled.
"What?" Breanna asked.
"I wouldn't expect a sweet noble woman to learn those variants of Trade Tongue," Bilbus said as he led Breanna to the front door of the shop.
A placquard to the left of the door showed various illustrations of the services provided, along with listings of prices. Breanna blushed as she looked at the very explicit illustrations of various sexual activities offered at the shop.
"Oh." Breanna said as she walked down the road, away from the brothel.
The party followed signs at each intersection directing them to the Customs House. There was a line at the facility, which was a gatehouse through the Xanteros Harbor walls. Eric studied the line, trying to ascertain how quickly it was moving. He leaned against a nearby post and started adding numbers in his head.
"We might be at the gatehouse in thirty minutes," he concluded.
"Really?" Bilbus asked. "The sign you are leaning on says it'll take fifteen minutes."
Eric turned and looked at the sign. "Well, that's just an estimate, after all."
Fifteen minutes later, the party reached the gatehouse. A sign in the Trade Tongue over the entrance announced that those importing goods needed to follow the red line painted on the floor, while the rest should follow the green line.
"See you in a bit," Bilbus said as he turned to the red line. The rest of the party followed the green line.
The green line was fast, and it was much shorter than the importer's line. It split into several lines so the Customs House could process as many people as possible. Eric was behind several Hellenic people, judging from the white cotton trousers and lightly colored cotton shirts they wore. The three men spoke together quietly, and they were through the customs checkpoint in minutes. It was now Eric's turn.
The customs agent wore some sort of uniform. The shirt was bright red with Hellenic block letters across the front, and the trousers were white. The agent spoke in a roughly-accented Trade Tongue.
"You here trade, o you here playseer?"
"Me here playseer."
The agent wrote something in a ledger. "Hellenas no armas. Saards no bene. Arros no bene. Mek-arro no bene. Longarmas no bene. You got armas?"
"Me got bigknif. Ee me got 'sai'."
"Waat be 'sai'?" the agent looked confused.
Eric carefully drew one of his sai. "Be sai." He proffered the weapon to the customs agent.
The agent inspected the Azirian weapon. He returned it to Eric. "Be knif."
The agent wrote more in the ledger. "Nom be waat?"
"Be 'Eric Ithell'."
The agent turned the ledger around and slid it to Eric. "Escrib nom." He pointed at a blank line."
Eric wrote his name on the line. The agent inspected the name, then wrote on a loose sheet of paper. When the ink finished drying, he gave the paper to Eric. "Be paper. Be got alltime at Hellenas. Bene meet."
Eric took the paper and carefully folded it. He bowed his head to the agent and continued past the customs checkpoint. Beyond that checkpoint was a row of moneychangers. Eric converted some of his coin into the paper scrip of Hellenas, then walked past the moneychangers and out the other side of the gatehouse, into Saronus proper.
Kasey was already standing in the square on the Saronus side of the wall with Farran. The kelpie-horse had thrown a fit while in line, and the customs agents had wisely rushed Kasey through the process.
The rest of the party who had taken the green line were soon in the square as well. Only Bilbus was missing.
"Maybe they didn't like his seaweed," Adria said.
It took nearly an hour before Bilbus finally walked out of the gatehouse. The rest of the party was leaning against the wall of a shop on the far side of the small square. Kasey looked to be sleeping on his feet.
Eric closed his journal. "We were wondering what took so long. I see you still have your seaweed."
Bilbus shrugged. "They weren't too thrilled with it. That stuff stinks when it gets dry. I'll be glad when we can deliver it."
The party wandered through Saronus until they found the one gate out of town. It emptied into a three-mile long, hundred and fifty pace wide walled corridor that led to Athenapolis. A wide road was in the middle of the corridor, and tents and merchant wagons were scattered along the side.
A cluster of men stood to one side of the Saronus Gate. Next to them were small carts, big enough to seat one or two people, with wooden poles about a pace apart jutting from the front.
One of the men approched the party. "Ride to Athenapolis! One Drachem!"
Rishala considered the offer, then pulled one of the paper notes from his coinpurse. The man offered to help Rishala get seated on one of the carts, then lifted the wooden poles and started jogging towards the gate at the far end of the corridor. Most of the party followed Rishala's lead, but Kasey decided to walk Farran, to give the warhorse a chance to stretch its legs.
The party had to wait about ten minutes for Kasey to catch up. When he did, he was carrying large mutton sticks in both hands.
"This is great!" he announced. "Fresh mutton! And I like the spices!"
The party walked down a main street into the sprawling city of Athenapolis.
"How do we find the Academy?" Bilbus asked. "I can't read the signs."
All of the signs were in Hellenic, and none of them had Trade Tongue translations.
"I'll ask directions," Breanna offered. She weaved a Heka casting, then approached a nearby street merchant. She then relayed the instructions to the party and led off down the road.
After several blocks, she stopped.
"Something wrong?" Bilbus asked.
"I can't read the signs. He told me street names, but I don't read Hellenic, and I don't know a casting that will help me read it."
Bilbus snorted. "See what you get for asking directions?"
Breanna scowled at Bilbus for a moment, then started down one of the crossing streets. The streets of Athenapolis were crowded with foot traffic, but there were few horses in the city.
The party stood out. Almost every man they saw wore light colored cotton trousers and either a white or colorful shirt. Women wore knee-length to mid-shin length dresses, also of cotton, in every color imaginable. The only exceptions were the town watch, who wore bright red shirts under brass breastplates and demi-plate covering on the legs and the occasional men and women who wore brilliant purple robes over their clothes. The citizens would make deferential gestures to the robed individuals, and the military would salute them.
"Those are rulers, according to the travel book," Breanna explained.
Bilbus watched one of the rulers walk by, a smirk on his face. But he said nothing.
It took the party half of an hour to find the Athenapolis Gate, which was on the north side of the city. Beyond the gate was a road that curved gradually to the east, away from the sea. A quarter mile north of the city was a large compound walled by wooden palisades. The whole walled area was nearly the size of Armagh, and numerous multi-story buildings were visible over the eight-foot tall wooden fencing.
"That's the Academy," Breanna said breathlessly.
They walked down the road to the Academy. The front gate was iron grill, mounted on a section of stone wall. It was purely ornamental, with an arc of iron bars overhead that had Hellenic block letters on it.
Eric inspected the gate's hinges. They were not rusted, nor were they unused. The gate could be closed if someone chose to do so.
"Wow," Kasey said as he looked at a nearby grassy field. At the near end was a herd of goats who were mowing the grass. "What are you guys doing here?"
"We need to get the prophecy translated," Eric reminded the blond knight.
"Oh, yeah. I'm going to go get a drink. Let me know when we're leaving."
Kasey led Farran towards several young adults. He gestured broadly, suggesting tipping a mug back. One of the men pointed towards a building on the far side of the greens. Kasey smiled and nodded, then led Farran across the green towards the building. Outside the building, the knight stopped and removed Farran's saddle and blanket. He carried those inside, leaving Farran loose on the green. The kelpie-warhorse immediately dropped to the ground and rolled over on his back, rubbing it blissfully on the grass to scratch itches.
"Adria," Breanna said. "Let's look for the library. They have to have some good books on herbs."
Adria looked cheerful. "Okay!"
The two walked away from the rest of the party, looking for a building that might be a library.
Breanna looked at the women who were walking around. Most of them were close to her age, but none of them dressed even remotely like the two Kelltic women. All of the women wore sandals of some sort -- some had leather laces that wrapped around the leg clear to the knee -- and none of their dresses were longer than knee-length. Few of them had sleeves that covered more than the shoulder.
Breanna stopped when she noticed one of the dresses. "Adria!" she whispered. "Look at that!"
Adria inspected the woman Breanna was looking at. Her dress was sleeveless and knee-length, neither of which were shocking. But it was not stitched down the sides, either. Instead, there was a wide fabric belt that kept the front and back sides of the dress in contact with the wearer. It was little more than a partially-shaped rectangle of cloth with a neckhole.
Adria grinned. "You know, these silk dresses are uncomfortable in this heat. Maybe we should look for a clothier. There has to be one somewhere around here."
Fifteen minutes of searching found a clothes shop in a cluster of small shops behind the tavern Kasey was visiting. Both Breanna and Adria decided to get Hellenic-styled short dresses, although Breanna blushed as she looked at her dress in a mirror. Her sleeping shifts covered more of her than this dress did. Her jaw dropped when she saw Adria.
Adria was wearing a risque dress nearly identical to the one Breanna had seen outside. The assassin's golden hair was put up in the style that Hellenic women wore, and she had sandals with long leather laces that wrapped a couple of times around her legs before ending just below the knee.
"You're not actually going to wear that in public, are you?" Breanna asked.
Adria smiled.
Kasey and both women had left the rest of the party.
"How do we get the prophecy translated?" Bilbus asked.
"Find a professor," Eric said. "He can tell us where to find the right person."
"Who is a professor?" Bilbus asked.
"Professors tend to be older."
"Old guy..." Bilbus looked around, then pointed. "He's old."
There was a man walking along a path where Bilbus pointed. His hair was graying. Bilbus led the rest of the party to the man.
"Savar bene geldspek?" Bilbus asked.
The man waved one of his hands dismissively.
Eric asked the man a question in the Karasimian tongue. The man responded. Eric talked to him a little more while the rest of the men watched.
"He studies Karasimian culture," Eric explained. "I told him we need to find the people who study the Shroeganus Balsil. They are in the Antiquities Building. He can lead us to their office, if I talk to him about my observations on the similarities and differences of Karasimian and Kelltic cultures."
Bilbus looked at Rishala, who simply shrugged. "Lead on," the mountebank said.
Eric walked next to the man, speaking in an ongoing monologue that was interspersed by interruptions from the professor. When the path they were following reached a branch, the professor would point down one of them. The Academy was several dozen buildings arranged in rectangular patterns around large, open grassy fields. Paths, usually with paving stones, wound their way around the buildings and across the fields. Hundreds of younger Hellenic men and women were visible, going to or from classes. Few, if any, foreigners were to be found on the grounds of the Academy.
Bilbus followed Eric and the professor into a building. Eric had mentioned something about it being the "Antiquities Building" as they crossed the threshold of the door.
The lower floor of the building was a museum, displaying a myriad of oddities the Academy had collected over the centuries. Bilbus gazed at some of the items as he passed, but saw nothing valuable. Eric was leading them towards a staircase when Bilbus saw something odd out of the corner of his eye. He stopped and backpedaled a pace, then looked into a room to his right. Past the room full of stone columns and statues was another room, and within that room was a pink slab of stone, standing on its edge.
Bilbus walked towards it, ignoring his companions. Rishala watched Bilbus walk away, but he did not see what had caught the mountebank's attention.
"Eric, Sturm..." the Caledonian said before he followed Bilbus. The mountebank had stopped in the next room, looking at something just around the corner. "Bilbus, what are ye... Oh."
Rishala looked at the smooth pink granite slab, eleven feet tall, eleven wide. Bilbus looked at him with an inscrutable expression.
"Bilbus," Eric started to admonish the thief. He saw the Portal and shut his mouth.
The professor looked at the plaque next to the Portal. He read it aloud, then switched to Karasimian and spoke to Eric.
Eric translated: "Magickal slab, unknown purpose. Retrieved from a remote location in Hellenas, transported by wagon. Presented special challenges, since it always remained upright, despite tilt of wagon."
"Maybe it doesn't work any more," Bilbus said, not really believing it himself. "It was moved from its original location."
"Aye," Rishala agreed. "Ye can find out if it works."
"There may be orcs on the other side. And I don't know if I can still activate it. It's not as easy as it used to be."
The professor asked Eric something. Eric replied, then added, "Let's find out about the prophecy. We can warn them about the Portal, as well."
The professor led Eric and the others upstairs and down to a small pair of offices in the far corner of the building. There was an old man in one of the offices, looking over papers on his desk. He looked up at the intruders. The professor who had escorted the party spoke to the man for a moment, then took his leave.
"Do you speak Kelltic?" Bilbus asked. The man shook his head.
Switching to Elven, Bilbus asked, "Do you speak Elven?"
The man replied, in Elven, "Yes, I do."
Bilbus had a lopsided grin on his face. "I'm Bilbus the Great. Perhaps you've heard of me?"
"No."
Bilbus shrugged. "You are the expert on the Shroeganus Balsil?"
"Yes."
"We have a part of it. Can you translate it for us?"
"I already have translated it."
"Really?" Bilbus turned to Eric. "Where are the fragments?"
Sturm offered them to Bilbus. Bilbus turned to the Sun Knight. "You had them?"
Sturm nodded.
Bilbus turned back to the elderly professor. "Here. What do these say?"
The professor looked at the strips of vellum. His eyes widened. He looked at Bilbus. "Where did you get these?" The professor quickly flipped through the strips of vellum. "I... I don't believe it. You have the missing pieces of the Shroeganus Balsil! The prophecy was incomplete, and no one knew where the remaining pieces were. You walk in with them."
"We also know what the pink magickal slab is, if you're interested."
"Really?" the professor asked, barely listening.
"Sure. It's a Portal. A magickal way to travel between certain places. It is a very dangerous thing. Orcs use it for transportation, and they may be able to go through that Portal."
"Tell me more about the Portal."
"I tell you what. If you can translate this prophecy for us, we will tell you what we know about the Portal."
"Of course! Of course!" The professor grabbed a blank sheet of paper from a stack and started making notes.
As the professor wrote, he hammered Bilbus with questions in the musical tongue of the elves. "How did you learn about the Portals? Do you know the castings? Have you used them? Are they hard to learn?"
"Are you sure you can translate that?" Bilbus asked to deflect the professor's attention.
"Oh, certainly. Most of these words are familiar, and I can decrypt the other ones with a little bit of time." He looked at one of the lines a little more closely. "This is interesting..."
The professor worked on the translation for nearly an hour, then rummaged through a box near his desk. He produced several sheets of paper that he sorted through, muttering to himself the entire time.
"This completes the Shroeganus Balsil," he announced in Elven. "All four Eras are complete."
"Eras?" Bilbus asked.
Even in Elven, the professor's voice had a droning lecturer's quality. "The Shroeganus Balsil is a prophecy broken into four 'Eras'. The first deals with the Kelltic Golden Age. The second deals with the war that ended the Kelltic Golden Age. The Third Era deals with the years from the end of the Golden Age to the beginning of the Return of the Dark One. And the Fourth Era tells us about this future time when the Dark One will attempt to return."
"You have all of it now? Can you read it to me, so I can translate it for my companions?"
Eric offered Bilbus his journal and pen, and Bilbus flipped towards the back of the journal to find some blank pages. The professor read the prophecy, translating it into Elven, with frequent tangents of discourse about the purported meanings of some of the lines. Bilbus kept steering the professor back to simply reading without the interpretations.
Eric, Rishala, and Sturm looked over Bilbus's shoulder as he wrote.
When he finished writing, Bilbus switched back to Kelltic. "We have to go to Erelhei Cinlu to steal one of the spears. I know a back way in. We just need to get our weapons up here so we can go through the Portal. It leads to a compound in the nobles' part of the city."
"The nobles' part?" Rishala asked. "What sort of compound?"
"It's like a parade ground or something, completely walled in."
"So you think we can just walk in there, a bunch of humans, and act like it's not a problem?!?" Rishala's voice was rising. "Are ye crazy?!? Bilbus, you are gonna get us killed! Walk into a walled compound guarded by drow who eat people?"
A few seconds later, Breanna and Adria walked into the room. Rishala stopped shouting for a moment to look at them. They both wore Hellenic dresses, with skirts shorter than Rishala's kilt. Adria's did not have the front and back halves stitched together. The wide cloth belt was all that held it together. Adria had taken the time to put her hair up in the Hellenic style, using her sharp throwing spikes to hold the hair in place. Customs thought they were hair sticks, not weapons.
Breanna blushed as she saw Eric looking at her. "We heard Rishala shouting."
Rishala shook his head. "Aye! Bilbus wants us to go through his Portals to sneak into a walled compound in Erelhei Cinlu to steal the spear."
"What else can we do?" Breanna asked.
Rishala sighed. "I had a dream about a drow who offered to help us. He is in the dreamlands. I can go there to talk to him." The story teller sounded reluctant.
"There is still another spear," Eric said. "Do we even know where to find it?"
Sturm looked at Eric. "The stars are different there. It's not here."
Bilbus speculated, "Maybe it's in Erelhei Cinlu as well. The bugs on the ceiling look like stars from a distance."
"Bugs on the ceiling?!?" Rishala exclaimed in alarm.
"Yeah," Bilbus replied. "I saw a dead one. It was about a pace wide, still glowing green a little bit."
Rishala shouted incoherently and reached for Bilbus's throat.
"No, these were stars. It was definitely outside. It just wasn't Oerth."
Rishala released Bilbus's throat. "Maybe we should find the library here. I want to see what I can find about the dreamlands before I try to go back there again."
"I might find something about the drow language in there," Bilbus muttered. "Since I can't just wave a hand and talk to them."
Bilbus thanked the professor, then led his friends back outside.
"Where's the library?" he asked Adria.
"I don't know," she said. "We never made it there."
After some wandering, the party found the library. They quickly split off, searching for books.
Bilbus settled down once he found an old book, written in Elven, about the linguistic variances between Elven and the drow tongue. He started flipping through the dense prose, hoping he could somehow absorb enough to communicate.
One page caught his attention. It discussed examples of drow variances in the Elven language.
"...for an example, the drow city of Erelhei Cinlu. 'Cinlu' is a degenerate case of 'city' in elven. 'Erelhei' translates simplistically as 'glorious'. Thus, the major drow city on Oerth, Erelhei Cinlu, is 'Glorious City'. Likewise, their former surface colony, 'Market City', is called 'Arabel Cinlu' in the drow tongue."
A young Hellenic woman, with the dark black hair and slightly dark skin common to all her fellow Hellenes, took the seat opposite Bilbus at the table.
"Elven studies?" she asked slowly in elven.
"What?" Bilbus asked.
"Sorry. I am one year student at elven language. I not see you. You are two year student?"
"Yes." Bilbus paused to look at her. She was cute.
"You see elves?"
Bilbus smiled. Adria was nowhere near him. "Have I seen elves?" She looked at him puzzled. Bilbus slowed down. "I went to Marketplace to visit the elves. Pretty town. They have a gatehouse for humans to enter, and they have a different gatehouse for elves. You know how they tell you to only use the human gatehouse?" She looked at him blankly. "Not important. I went to elven gatehouse. Elves not happy. I fight elves to escape."
She understood something there. "You fight elves?" She stood, an angry glare on her face. "Bad man!" She stomped away.
Bilbus shrugged and turned back to his book.
The party regrouped on the main floor of the library, around a large table.
"I found a little bit of information on the dreamlands," Rishala admitted. "I dinna think it will help much."
"I found a book on drow," Bilbus said. "I don't know how I kept my eyes open long enough to put it away." He paused for a moment to think. "Didn't we get an invitation from the Baronness to visit?"
Sturm asked, "Why would she invite us?"
"Not us. Someone. We had an invitation to... Sanbalet. The head of those smugglers in Saltcliffs. Think she ever met him?"
"Doubtful," Eric muttered.
Bilbus grinned slyly and looked at Sturm. "Well, Master Sanbalet. How about let's go to visit the Baronness?"
Sturm scowled at the mountebank.
Breanna glanced at the two men. "Adria and I stopped by the office of the apothecary. They teach healers from all over here. I told them how to cure the darkblade wounds." Breanna glanced at Eric. "We got the prophecy translated?"
Eric nodded.
"What does it actually say?"
Eric opened his journal to the page where Bilbus had transcribed the prophecy. Breanna sat down and read it.
First Era Sun unites
All lands of man
All joy
All lands prosperitySilver towers
Strong home of sun
From towers
Sun with justiceFar lands
All love sun
Great peace
All man prosperityOne man
With jealousy of sun
Calls dark
Soul to darkTime comes
When dark rises
Sun attacks
To stop evil darkDark grows
From beyond water
With dark
Hate and angerDark comes
Man attacks dark
Sun attacks
Silver towers fallSo falls towers
So falls sunSecond Era Dark leaves
Victory against sun
Armies stay
Fear and deathSun dead
Armies of sun live
Fight dark
Leave lands of manMan lives
Armies of sun fight
Home of dark
Dies from evil of darkArmies of sun
Surround home of dark
Strong mages
Cast strong spellsDark one
Trapped by magic
Home of dark
Now prison of darkDark one
One last attack
Curse magic
And all magesMages die
And cities die
Soon man
Hates all magicCursed by one
Cursed for allThird Era Cursed magic
Dark one sleeps
Time passes
Heals magic againMan learns
Magic now not cursed
But still
Dark magic cursedTime comes
Again dark rises
Hate comes
From beyond waterOne nation
Now many nations
None sees
Dark enters landDark one
Touches world again
Dark armies
Soon to come againMan helps
Dark one now
Friends of dark
Old and newDark below
Dark prophecy warriors
Give dark
Armies and strongholdsDark grows again
Dark returns againFourth Era Hope lives
Again sun rises
Child of sun
And warrior of sunChurch of sun
Weak yet strong
Warriors of sun
Wait for battleOld knowledge
School before sun
Old prophecy
Again to be wholeCity below
Has battle thirst
Not dead one
Has spirituality consumerCity dragon
Has foresight cutter
Small ones
Have solid lightCity below
Dark harms souls
Nobles of dark
Hide and rulePrison of dark
Prison weak from evil
Child of sun
His choice for manDark with life
Light with death
Breanna closed Eric's journal wordlessly, but the expression she bore revealed her thoughts. Her eyes were frightened as she looked up at Sturm, who was brooding, lost in his own thoughts.
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Original Draft 26 August 2002
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