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Back to the previous chapter: Wastes
First Draft
As the battle raged outside the crumbling palace, Bilbus carefully weaved another casting. This one he bound to a magickal trigger he could activate. Considering no one knew what they were going to find inside the inner bailey of the castle, Bilbus thought it best if he could make everyone move much faster. However, Bilbus knew his mastery of dweomer crafting was not good enough to affect all of his friends. He quickly decided that Rishala knew the right weaving of Heka, so Rishala could fend for himself.
Bilbus glanced back around at the outer bailey. There was the East Gate, with its three closed portcullises. The dirt near there shifted, small clouds of sand being kicked up by invisible horses -- Jamie's Band waited over there. South of them was the gate to the inner bailey of the castle, which surely led to the prison. Straight south of Bilbus was a long building with a door on one face. It was the only structure within the outer bailey that had survived the two thousand plus years since the prison was created.
The sand shifted in several places near Bilbus. He counted three sets of hooves shuffling sand as invisible horses paced restlessly from the sounds of battle outside. Bilbus recognized the larger shoeprints of Sturm's warhorse and of Farran.
"Are you done looking?" Bilbus heard his wife ask, from over the third set of hoofprints.
Looking towards his invisible wife, Bilbus saw drow running out of the long building.
"Hells!" he spat as one of the drow shot an arrow skyward. The head of the arrow sparked a bright red as it sailed upwards, leaving a thin trail of smoke in its wake.
Adria appeared abruptly as she loosed an arrow at the drow. Her arrow stopped short of the drow, who turned to face her, another arrow already resting on the bow. But the drow did not raise the bow to attack.
"Kasey!" Bilbus yelled. "Plan C!"
Kasey charged Farran towards the drow, with Bilbus close behind. Adria and Sturm followed them.
Eric heard the shout and turned to look back at the bailey. He had become transfixed watching the slowly moving undead orcs outside of the east gate. The skeletal orcs marched towards the north gate, where the remains of the Caliph's Horses and the Church Knights battled against a far larger force.
Drow were streaming out of the sole intact building in the outer bailey, all of them carrying bows with arrows readied. But none of them were aiming at the party, even when Adria appeared suddenly after loosing an arrow at them.
One of the drow looked directly at Eric. The dark elf pointed his arm at Eric, then pointed sharply at the open gate to the inner bailey.
Does he see me? Eric wondered. The twenty odd horses around Eric kicked up a lot of dirt, but the drow seemed to be facing him directly. Its scowl deepened as Eric watched.
"Jamie's Band! To the inner bailey! Ignore the drow!" Eric shouted as he kicked his horse and turned it towards the open gate.
Bilbus saw the commotion of dirt as the horses near the east gate raced south. He also could feel an urging from Rhongomyant, pulling him towards that gate. "Kasey! Turn left! Towards the gate!"
Bilbus steered Acquisition 3 towards the gate, hoping fervently that Kasey had been paying attention. Colliding with Farran did not appeal to the former mountebank.
Bilbus could feel surges of Heka around him. There were several castings being weaved within the building, and he could feel a pair of surges coming from Jamie's Band -- the latter two had the familiar feels of Rishala and Breanna each preparing something. A flaming streak materialized, shooting towards the building, but Bilbus watched it unravel as it got close. At nearly the same moment, all of Jamie's Band and the party appeared. The invisibility castings had all unraveled.
Bilbus, Sturm, Kasey, and Adria raced through the gates to the inner bailey. Someone from Jamie's Band tripped the release lever, and the portcullis crashed shut. Still more drow were running out of the building, heading for the north gate. Bilbus wheeled his horse in a circle to take in the inner bailey of the castle.
Most of the buildings had collapsed years ago, but two were intact. The first was against the wall separating the inner and outer bailey. It had several doors and windows along its side, and one larger door at the near end. The other building was a squat, two story tower that was wider than it was tall. It had one door, on the upper floor. A five foot wide stone footbridge connected that door to the upper floor of the other building. The citadel was surrounded by a moat that burned, with oily smoke and flames rising to mask the citadel in a hellish curtain.
The flows of magick were incredible. Energies flowed towards the citadel from every direction, and dark tendrils of Heka flowed out from the tower.
"Jamie's Band!" Eric called out. "Get to the top of those towers!" He pointed at the towers that flanked the portcullis to the outer bailey. "Bury the drow with arrows!" As Jamie's Band dismounted to follow his command, he reconsidered. "Wait! Stay here, instead. Guard the portcullis. If they come this way, give us warning and kill them."
"Why wait?" Bilbus shouted.
"Something is happening," Eric said as he climbed down from his horse. "The drow have had plenty of chances to attack us, but they did not. I don't want to provoke them."
Sturm dismounted. He had tied a long strip of cloth to Gas Bulg, which he slung over a shoulder so the spear was on his back. He drew Gretorixmar and walked towards the near door of the building. Bilbus hopped down from Acquisition 3 and staggered -- he was not used to the longer drop, nor did he remember the weight of the plate armor he wore.
Bilbus ran towards the door, holding Rhongomyant. "This way!" He glanced back and saw Sturm limping -- the darkblade wound had festered for weeks, and the Sun Knight was far weaker than he wanted to admit. Bilbus ran back to support Sturm.
Kasey raced past them, and slammed into the wooden door. The door disintegrated from the force of the blow, leaving only splinters. Despite magickal preservation, the door was in poor condition.
The party found themselves in a small throne room, the type a ruler would use for private audiences. The furniture had long ago decomposed, but there was still an unmistakable dais large enough for a grand throne. Several arched doorways were on the far end of the room. Bilbus hurried towards the middle arch, behind the dais, following the spear's directions.
The doorway led to a staircase that spiraled up. The stairs emptied into a hallway that ran north and south, with a few doors on each side and a single door on the south. Bilbus felt the spear tug towards the door at the south end.
"Kasey, left!" Bilbus called out.
"No, I'm still here," Kasey protested.
Bilbus rolled his eyes and went towards the door. He and Kasey stood side by side and shoved the door open. It opened onto the five foot wide footbridge, leading to the citadel. The door of the citadel was a tarnished brass, pitted as if acid had been sprayed on it. Halfway across the twenty pace long bridge were three figures. Two of them shimmered disquietingly -- Shadow Kindred, blocking the way, their malicious darkblades readied. The third stood two paces ahead of them. He smiled kindly, revealing needle sharp teeth.
Vladdomani the vampire extended a hand towards the party. "Come, let us talk."
Kasey and Bilbus walked onto the bridge, but Sturm pushed past them to take the lead. Eric followed Bilbus, and Adria stood behind Kasey, her bow ready. Breanna and Rishala were in back.
The party faced off against the vampire and its two escorts.
"Sturm, do we need to have this discussion once again?" Vladdomani asked.
Eric watched as Bilbus slipped a fine silk rope out of a bag tied to his belt. He slipped the end of the rope to Kasey, who tied it to the back of Sturm's swordbelt. The Church Knight quickly finished the knots, holding the rope with one hand.
"Come, Sturm, we need not do this again."
Sturm dropped Gretorixmar. The hand-and-a-half sword clanged onto the stone bridge.
Hells, Eric groaned inwardly. The vampire has control of him.
Sturm took a halting step forward. Kasey pulled the rope taut, grabbing it with both hands. The Sun Knight tried to take another step, but found himself restrained.
"Kasey, let go," Sturm growled quietly.
"Nope," Kasey whispered resolutely.
"It's him," Bilbus said quietly. "It's Sturm."
"Let me go," Sturm repeated. The growl had left his voice, but he was still insistent.
"How do you know?" Eric whispered sharply to Bilbus.
Bilbus glanced back at the Azirian. "He never talked when the vampire controlled him."
Eric thought desperately, ignoring the roar of the flames that licked at the far end of the bridge, and the still-audible clash of steel outside the castle walls. The consequences of a mistake were severe. Uttering a quiet prayer, Eric said, "Kasey, drop the rope."
Kasey looked back at Eric uncertainly. Eric nodded. "Kasey, let him go."
Kasey let the rope fall.
Sturm walked forward stiffly towards the vampire. The vampire spoke softly, soothingly.
"This will all end soon enough, Sturm," the vampire said when the Sun Knight stopped in front of him. "You don't need that spear, now, do you?"
Sturm reached up with his right hand to untie the top of the sash that held the spear against his back. Gas Bulg slid down his back, falling towards the footbridge.
"No...." Eric said quietly. Sturm was obeying the vampire after all.
As the spearhead dropped past Sturm's left hand, the Sun Knight reached back and grabbed the shaft. He brought it forward and upwards, driving the spearhead into Vladdomani's chest. The Sun Knight took a step back and finished bringing the spear to the ready.
The vampire screamed as a flood of light rushed out of the wound. The wound grew larger, and the light became brighter, until Vladdomani's body was consumed. The now disembodied scream turned to laughter.
Both Shadow Kindred lunged towards Sturm. The Sun Knight had just recovered his fighting stance when one of them struck in an impossibly fast slice. The magicks that Breanna had placed on him absorbed the strike.
Kasey ran forwards as Adria and Eric both loosed arrows at the Shadow Kindred. Eric watched his arrow land, doing little damage to the monstrosity. Even the arrows that Breanna had performed rituals on were minimally effective on Shadow Kindred.
Eric felt the hair on his arms stand abruptly. Bilbus flinched towards the side of the footbridge, nearly losing his footing, as he looked back over his shoulder, past Eric. One of the Shadow Kindred ahead of the party flew off the bridge, falling eight paces into the fires below.
"By the gods, Bree!" Bilbus shouted, wild eyed. "What was that?!?"
"Heka lensing," Breanna said.
Kasey chopped downwards at the remaining Shadow Kindred. With a single blow, he cut the cruel monster in half, sending its still-flailing parts into the fires as well.
"Lightning cleaves the way?" Kasey blurted.
"That vampire's going to reform," Eric said apprehensively.
"Aye," Rishala agreed. "But it's going to take about an hour."
The party regrouped behind Sturm, facing the brass door.
"So, Bilbus, your spear says that's the door, there?" Adria asked jestingly as she pointed at the brass door. "That one? Are you sure?"
The door had ornate engravings on it, decorations that had suffered over the years. The pitting on the door was extensive, inches deep in some places. The deterioration was hardly natural.
Breanna lightly touched Sturm's back, channeling Heka into his armor. If the magicks protecting him now failed, hers would replace them. She glanced past Sturm to see a figure coalescing on the bridge. She stepped back, passing Kasey and Bilbus as she did so.
The man was tall, with neatly trimmed dark hair and a beard. He wore black robes, exquisite with thread-of-gold, in the style of the al-Rhayidhian nobles.
He looked at Bilbus, a disapproving scowl on his face. "Hello, Bilbus."
"Hi, Dark One," Bilbus replied. The armor he wore -- the replica of Uther Paendroeg's plate armor, gleamed in the sunlight.
"I see you have chosen to fight for the wrong side. Pity."
Bilbus shrugged. "I'm terribly sorry to disappoint you. I've brought you someone you've been looking for."
Kasey took a step forward, raising Caladbolg.
"Kasey, stop," Eric barked. He lowered his voice. "That's an illusion. He's not really there."
"But..." Kasey protested. He thrust Caladbolg forward experimentally. The figure did not notice when the tip of the blade plunged into his arm.
"Huh," Adria muttered absently. If Bilbus were wearing his al-Rhayidhian robes, he could have passed as a younger, paler version of this man.
The Dark One turned to face Sturm. "Sturm, you needn't do this. Do you truly want to fight me for an eternity? It would be far easier to step off this bridge now. The pain ends. The suffering ends. The torment ends. I have shown you the possibilities. You could know peace at long last, a peace you have never had in your life." He gestured towards the fires. "All you must do is step off the bridge, and it ends."
Sturm looked at the fires raging in the moat below pensively.
His voice was calm when he answered. "You're right. The suffering will end. Atenburg raised me to fight. He never let up on me. Not for a day. He drove me harder than any of the other knights in training. I never knew why, and I never questioned why. Now he lies dead on the field of battle, along with many knights that I trained with for my entire life. If I die now, all of that training is wasted, as are the lives of those who fought to get me here. If I die now, these people," he gestured back towards the rest of the party, "will have no tomorrow. People who are my friends, who have made sacrifices for me, not because they were forced to, but because they chose to." He turned his back to the Dark One, facing the party. "Bree, I understand now. I wish I would have sooner. Thank you." She gasped quietly, and a tear formed in her eye. "Kasey. Take me home, and bury me under the tree next to the house, and the vineyards are yours." Bilbus made a gurgling protest.
Sturm smiled at the irritating thief.
He then turned back to the Dark One. When he spoke, his voice was a growl once more. "And you. Make ready for battle."
Sturm turned the spear on himself. He plunged the nasty spearhead into his abdomen. A spray of blood, too much to be from a single body, shot outwards, towards the door. As it passed through the phantom Dark One, the illusion shimmered and disappeared. When it struck the door, the tarnish washed away. The acid pits were filled, and the door appeared as new. A scream of rage faded quickly, the Dark One's voice receding in the distance.
Sturm's body fell to the bridge, still clutching Gas Bulg. Breanna ran forward to kneel at the body. As she looked, the spear deteriorated rapidly, the dark wooden shaft crumbling to dust and the spearhead rusting, until it was as pockmarked at the Dark One's prison door had been. Somewhere, a disembodied scream began and ended. She recognized the voice of the vampire screaming as its soul object was destroyed.
A touch on Sturm's neck showed that his heart no longer beat. Something else was different, too. The sickly, oily flows of dark Heka that had been pouring out of the citadel had ceased. There were still the currents flowing in to sustain the prison, but the Dark One was no longer able to influence the outside world.
Kasey kneeled next to Breanna, Caladbolg secured to his back, and hefted Sturm's body onto his shoulders, draping him in the carry used to haul wounded out of battle. The Church Knight stood and walked back down the bridge.
Bilbus picked up the remains of the spearhead and wrapped it in cloth. "It'll be something to show Sturmelina when we tell her about him," he said to Adria. She nodded. He stopped once more to pick up Gretorixmar.
The pain had been excruciating, far worse than anything Sturm had ever felt. It had felt like it had gone on for an eternity, but it was already fading to distant memory.
Sturm stood and looked around. He was in a walled garden, one reminiscent of the Caliph's palace. Several paces away, an old man leaned against a stone bench. He wore familiar armor, with a stylized sun emblazoned on his tabard, and his sword was one which Sturm had held only minutes ago. Sturm ran towards him.
The man struggled to his feet, raising the sword to a guard position. His eyes were cloudy with age, and his face was slack and pale.
"Sir Osmail Cunnick!" Sturm called out to the knight.
"You're not Caliph bin Hatsreod," Cunnick croaked, not understanding.
"No. I'm Sir Sturm Sunblade. I'm your relief. It's time for someone else to carry this fight."
"Good. I'm ready to sleep." Sir Cunnick offered Gretorixmar to Sturm. "Fight well, Sir Knight." He clapped Sturm's shoulder. "Until we meet again."
"You!" the Dark One's voice boomed through the garden. He was striding down a footpath, hacking absently at the flowers that lined it with his curved al-Rhayidhian sword.
Sturm walked towards his opponent, a grim scowl on his face and Gretorixmar at the ready.
Bilbus led the party back into the building, heading for the stairs. "If the drow want to stop us, they're going to have to get through me first." With the uttering of the trigger phrase, Bilbus's casting activated.
Rishala saw the rest of the party suddenly speed up. With a quick casting, he soon was moving as quickly as they were as they rushed through the palace and back out to the inner bailey and Jamie's Band.
The young men from Armagh were staring out the portcullis at the outer bailey. Eric ran over to join them. There were now forty drow in the outer bailey, forming a staggered line from the building towards the north gate. The gatehouses for both the north gate and the east gate had collapsed, now little more than rubble piles.
One of the drow -- Eric was unsure if it was the same one -- gestured towards Eric, then towards the east gate. Eric nodded.
"Raise the portcullis," Eric commanded. "Everyone, to your horses. We ride for the east gate." Eric ran to his horse and climbed into its saddle. "And if anyone attacks the drow, I'll kill you personally. They're letting us leave."
The party and their escorts raced out of the castle, passing well away from the drow within the outer bailey, and out onto the sandy ruins of as-Tikat once more. Eric looked at the sands near the east gate. Rapidly deteriorating orc skeletons, many still clutching swords, littered the sands outside the gate. Both entire fists of animated dead orcs had collapsed. The two remaining fists of live Hot Sands Tribe orcs were taking horrific casualties from the battered remains of the Caliph's Horsemen. As soon as the party rode into the clear, the horsemen disengaged to escort the party.
Ahead, at the heart of the battle, the tides had turned. The remaining drow, and their three fists of Dark Cave Tribe orcs, were marching in orderly formations towards the palace. One mangled fist of Hot Sands orcs had been left to fight the party's army, and they were sorely outnumbered once the drow and other orcs had walked away.
"What in the Hells is going on?" Eric wondered aloud. "They're walking away from battle."
The drow army commander looked towards the human Caliph's palace. A large band of humans on horseback rode out of the eastern gate of the palace, circling wide around the desert-dwelling orcs' fists. The commander cursed the ineptitude of the surface-dwelling orcs. How hard could it be for over a thousand orcs, with a like number of animated orc corpses, to stop thirty humans on horseback? Now, the drow were marching back towards the palace and the Portal within it, with their Dark Cave Tribe servants marching along behind the drow army to ensure that the surface dwellers did not try to pursue. The surface dwellers had been outmatched, and they had resorted to forming a final defensive perimeter to stave off the inevitable. And now they would live, thanks to a single accursed red arrow.
The baroness had been explicit when she had given him his orders. "Our human ally has grossly underestimated his opposition," she said at the beginning of the briefing. "Our losses, of the spear, and of drow in the abovelands, have not gone unnoticed. The other houses are sensing weakness, and some are talking openly that our alliance is a mistake. Take my army to defend the Caliph's castle, but keep guards at the Portal. If these humans reach the castle, do not waste any more of my army in battle. Save who you can and return here. We will need every sword we can to keep the other houses in line."
Fifteen more minutes, perhaps, would have been long enough to crush the surface dwellers' army utterly. But the Hot Sands Tribe orcs could not even defend two entries to a castle. And the drow commander knew better than to disobey the baroness's orders, or even to delay obeying them. Her spies were surely within the ranks of the drow he commanded. So he now marched with the survivors of his army towards the palace and the Portal that would take the army home.
Jamie's Band steered wide of the drow army. Circling back to where the battle had been fought, the party got a full view of the aftermath of the battle. Hundreds, if not thousands, of men and drow and orcs lay scattered across several acres. The moans and cries of the wounded were horrific, a continual din punctuated by the occasional scream. The priests of the Sword of the Church moved through the field, stopping at those men who still lived to provide the needed magickal healings.
Orcs moved through the field of battle as well. Some of them had organized into a line, walking slowly across those parts of the battlefield where drow were found. These orcs decapitated every drow, whether it was dead or not. Other orcs searched for orc and human survivors, calling for priests when they found friendly casualties while rendering basic first aid. A third group of orcs circulated through the enemy orc casualties, speaking to those who still lived. Occasionally, one of the orcs from this last group would call something out loudly, then kill the prisoner. Other times, the orc would shout for a healer.
"What are they doing?" Eric asked Bilbus quietly as the party rode along the edge of the battle field. Eric fought to stay dispassionate, despite the gruesome field of bodies.
"It's an orc custom. The Claw Fang Tribe tried to explain it to me as we marched towards Citadel Altspire. When an orc tribe fights a worthy foe, the orcs will offer to let the surviving enemy join the victorious tribe. Those who refuse are killed on the battle field, which the orcs consider a great honor. Those who agree become part of the tribe."
Eric nodded to himself and kept his attention on the sands ahead of him. The support trains were rolling in to provide transportation for the wounded who were too badly wounded to walk, and the smoke of cook fires already curled into the clear desert sky. How anyone could think about eating after seeing this battle was something Eric did not want to consider.
Bilbus rode next to him, lost in his own thoughts. The atrocities he had seen orcs commit in the dwarven kingdom of Clemendeev would haunt the darker corners of his mind for years, but they were on such a small scale compared to the violence that had been inflicted here.
An orc shout drew the former mountebank from his dark thoughts: "Sultz, of the Dark Cave Tribe, dies with honor on the Sands of as-Tikat!"
Bilbus shouted "No!" in orc as he jumped down from Acquisition 3. He raced towards an orc who had raised his sword high for a mercy blow. "Sultz!"
Bilbus drew his sword, readying to block the killing blow if need be, but the Tree Eater orc had stopped, confused. Bilbus put his sword away and stood next to the Tree Eater, looking at the orc who lay on the ground.
Sultz was badly wounded, with a deep cut that had split the bottom of his breastplate. Blood poured from the wound, staining the white sands of the Wasted Lands. Pain filled his expression, but confusion had already started replacing it.
"Lord Hogain?" the orc asked, his voice raspy.
"Sultz, join the Tree Eaters," Bilbus said in the orc tongue. Switching to Kelltic, he shouted over his shoulder, "Bree! I need you over here! I need a healer!"
"But they fight for the humans," Sultz protested.
Bilbus shrugged. "Fight for the humans. Fight for the drow." He grinned a lopsided grin. "You are missing the point, Sultz. You get to fight."
Sultz smiled as well. He reached a large hand up towards Bilbus. The noble helped the orc to his feet, then gave Sultz a shoulder to lean against as he walked. Breanna was running towards them, ignoring the bodies on the ground as best she could. She stopped in front of Bilbus and Sultz, looking at the bloody wound and absently reaching for her healer's bag.
"Remember him?" Bilbus asked. "No tarking?"
Sultz bellowed "NO TAR KING!", then smiled.
Breanna took a half-step back, shuddering. The orc who had dragged her from her bed on the Sea Ghost by her ankle. The orc who had shouted at her when they were imprisoned. He stood in front of her once more. But he now smiled.
"Bree, he's hurt pretty badly," Bilbus reminded her.
"But..."
"He's on our side now," Bilbus interrupted her protest.
Breanna nodded to herself and uttered a silent prayer to Bres as she directed healing magicks into the wound. It mended, enough that it no longer bled.
Breanna looked around at the wounded. "I... I need to find the priests and see how I can help." She wandered towards the nearest priest, shaken not only from her encounter with Sultz, but with the enormity of the task of healing the hundreds of wounded.
"Come on, Sultz," Bilbus said in orc. "I need to find the Fists Commander."
As the two walked, Sultz asked, "Lord Hogain, do you have a head of security?"
"I do if you will take the job," Bilbus offered.
"I accept."
The man and the orc walked across the battlefield as Bilbus searched for Krag. He found the orc commander standing with the surviving orc fist commanders, going over initial casualty estimates. With the sound of approaching people, Krag interrupted a report and turned to see who approached.
"Fists Commander Krag," Bilbus greeted in the orcish tongue.
"Lord del Cartach," Krag greeted in return.
"As the Lord of the Dales city of Portsdale, I want to tell you that the Tree Eaters Tribe are welcome in Portsdale."
The orc bowed his head. "I appreciate this offer. Orcs have been living in the forests for many years, afraid to build large cities because men would come and attack. To have men as friends, and powerful men at that, is an honor."
Bilbus switched to Kelltic. "Rishala! Rishala, I need a witness!" Bilbus craned around until he spotted the Caledonian. Bilbus gestured wildly until the story-teller finally walked over to the group of orcs.
Exasperated, Rishala asked, "What is it, Bilbus? I'm tending to wounded."
"Yeah. As a Church representative, I want you to witness this. I, Lord Bilbus Hogain del Cartach, am offering all Tree Eaters amnesty and my protection within Portsdale and the lands I control."
"You're sure about that?" Rishala asked.
"Yes. After what they have done for us today, it's the least we can do."
"All right. I've witnessed it. I'll ask the other priests what I need to do next."
"Thanks, Rishala."
Bilbus watched his friend return to the carnage to save those who could live.
The initial round of triage was completed by late afternoon. Most of the priests of the Sword of the Church were exhausted from shaping tremendous volumes of Heka during the afternoon. The party had gathered at a tent that someone from the support trains had erected a half mile from the battlesite. Sturm's body had already been placed in a simple wooden coffin for the trip to its final destination. Exhausted warriors had started assembling around firepits as the support personnel started preparing meals. The drow and their orcs had left long ago, disappearing into the palace.
Eric gazed towards the Dark One's Palace, lost in his thoughts. It's two weeks to the Beltane Festival in Armagh. I met Kasey and Sturm just a few days prior to last year's festival. And Bilbus, too, for that matter. He had shown up at the tavern claiming to have saved Kasey's page. Almost a year ago. We were going to a party, and look what has happened since then.
Eric looked towards his companions. Bilbus was sitting on a campaign chair, a pair of wooden boards that fit together crosswise to make a rudimentary seat. His head was against the tall back of the board -- it must have come from the orcs -- eyes closed. Adria had settled onto the sand next to him, using his leg as a backrest. She had one hand on her abdomen, which was showing her pregnancy. The other still clutched the elven bow. She looked like she was asleep, but Eric did not doubt that she would awake in an instant if a threat arose. Rishala had asked to borrow Eric's pen and ink, along with a few pages of paper from Eric's omnipresent journal. The Caledonian now sat a few paces away on a blanket on the sand, writing industriously.
Kasey stood near a wagon that contained a single wooden box, seven feet long, draped with the Sun King's battle flag. The Church Knight had insisted that Sturm have an honor guard on his way home, and Kasey was going to be it. Other surviving knights -- the few Church Knights and the Footmen of Camelough -- had put together a rotating watch to relieve Kasey.
Breanna was walking towards the campsite, her armor partially unfastened to help cool down. Her hair was a mess, sweat soaked and hanging loosely where it had escaped the leather thong she had used to tie it in back. Sweat, dirt, and blood streaked her face, but she did not care. After what we've gone through today, I'm amazed you are still walking, Eric thought as he watched her approach. My dear Bree, what will the future be like for us? You had always been an innocent one. After what we've seen and done, how well will we fit into life in Armagh? Breanna glanced up and saw Eric looking at her. She managed a weak smile, but the exhaustion was ready to overwhelm her.
Eric turned his attentions back towards the palace. The drow had left peaceably during the battle. The reports from the commanders said that the drow had marched away when a red flare arrow had appeared above the palace -- when the party had made it to the outer bailey. The building in the outer bailey had to have a Portal. And if the drow could leave through the Portal, they could return once more.
"Bilbus," Eric said softly. "Are you awake?"
Bilbus groaned, trying unconvincingly to act like he were asleep.
"Bilbus, get some orcs. We need to go back to the palace."
Adria sat up and turned towards Eric. Bilbus sat upright on the campaign chair.
"Why?" the mountebank asked sleepily. Maybe he had been napping.
"The drow left through the Portal. They could return. What if they change their mind? Or what if they come back to try to do something to the prison?"
"All right, all right," Bilbus said as he got up from his chair. Adria walked with him as he went to the nearest orc firepit.
Rishala set his writing aside, placing a large rock on it to keep it from blowing away. "I'll go with ye," he offered.
Breanna had just dropped onto the sand. She shifted to get back up.
"You've done enough, Bree," Eric said. "Stay here and get some rest. I suspect we're going to need you during the trip home."
Soon, Eric, Rishala, Adria, and Bilbus were riding back towards the palace, escorted by fifty orcs. Eric led the orcs to the building, and, after a quick check inside to verify that no drow were there and that the Portal was indeed there, Eric supervised the destruction of the building.
Bilbus had stopped at the ruins of the entrance to the outer bailey. The drow magicks had leveled most of the gatehouse, but a large section of wall still stood. Bilbus dismounted and was using his adamantine dagger to carve the stone. He had completed a "Bil" when Adria realized what he was doing.
"You should carve your family crest into the stone," Adria suggested.
Bilbus stopped scratching the rock and turned back to her. He held up a hand, back towards her. "The dragon has my ring. I don't remember what it looks like."
Adria rolled her eyes and held her hand out. She wore the signet ring he had had made for her. Bilbus studied the ring, then turned back to carve once more.
"Bilbus, the orcs will have that building down before you finish," Rishala said. "Here." There was a surge of Heka.
The stone was softer, like a clay. Bilbus quickly drew his family crest in the stone. He returned to the letters he had been carving, then finished the script. He stood back to admire his work. The crest was recognizable, nearly two feet tall. Beneath it, carved into the stone, was "Bilbus the Great was here".
"Wait!" Bilbus blurted. "One last thing." He rummaged through his saddle bags until he found what he needed. He unwrapped a bottle of Scowling Knight wine and carefully pressed it into the softened stone, until it was securely attached. "There. It's my last bottle. Rishala, make the stone hard again."
Rishala unraveled the weave of Heka. From the outer bailey was a crash as the building gave way. Orcs quickly piled the debris around the Portal, burying it. Once Eric was sure the Portal was covered, the party rode back to the camp.
"Here," Bilbus said to Adria as they rode. He held out Sturm's sword, Gretorixmar.
"What do I do with it?" Adria asked. "I'm not a swordswoman."
"It's up to you," Bilbus said. He looked at the dark expression on his wife's face. "What?"
"It was the final battle. We were fighting the Dark One's army. And I didn't kill anybody. I shot at a drow who had magickal protections. It didn't even wound him. But Bree killed a Shadow Kindred by herself. And I didn't get anything."
"It must be the pregnancy," Bilbus blurted too loudly. He reflexively ducked as he looked for a dagger blow from his wife. She ignored the quip.
Bilbus rode forward to ride next to Eric. "I have something for you," the mountebank said. He held a wadded silk handkerchief out to Eric.
"One of my silk handkerchiefs?" Eric asked.
"Yes. And more. Take it."
Eric unwrapped the silk. Inside was a plain steel chain.
"It was Sturm's. The protective chain he got when we fought the smugglers. It's an early wedding present."
"Thank you, Bilbus." Eric put the chain on immediately.
The party reached the camp. Kasey still guarded the wagon, but Meridaun was talking to him. Breanna was passed out on the sands in the shade on the east side of the tent, breathing slowly and deeply.
Rishala dismounted his horse and walked towards Kasey. "Kasey, what about your sister? Tell me more about her."
"Oh, Alyssa? She's my half-sister..."
"Aye, aye. Still, tell me about her."
"Well, she wasn't always like she was when we visited Sulster..." the knight described how his sister had been better behaved until she had summered with an aunt in Londoun who had preached some outlandish stories.
As Kasey lost himself in his retelling, Meridaun started to walk away. Eric fell in next to her, talking as they walked.
"Kasey really admires you," Eric said. "He can't stop talking about you."
"You're not very subtle, General," Meridaun said, amused. "Are you trying to fix us up?"
"I know I'm not subtle. After everything we've been through today, I don't think there's much point in subtlety."
"Kasey's thirty seven, Eric. Unless he becomes a senior commander, he's reached the mandatory retirement age for Church Knights. Making war is best left for the young." She glanced back at the tall, blond knight. "And he's not going to be a commander."
"He's perfect, then," Eric concluded.
Meridaun smiled to herself, but said nothing.
"Until later," Eric said. He went back to the tent, sitting down in the shade next to Breanna. His eyes felt heavy, so he settled down onto the sand for a nap. The sun was near the horizon, and no one was going to miss the general if he took a few minutes to rest.
The three week ride back to al-Qayir went without incident. The magicks of the Sword of the Church had healed all the survivors, and the army was in high spirits by the time they reached the al-Rhayidhian capital. They had fought the largest battle that the world had seen in two thousand years, against impossible odds, and they had walked away. Thousands of their comrades had not made it home, but thousands had survived.
The Caliph greeted the party at his palace, offering them guest rooms once more as they rested prior to their trip home. The fleet that had carried them across the Brythomar remained in the harbor, anchored well away from the shore so they would not interfere with the merchant ships that were coming and going. Eric's subordinate commanders determined that the fleet was big enough for the army, thanks to losses, but it would be a very cramped ride home. As soon as the army arrived, efforts began to re-provision the fleet for the trip home.
Eric spent the time waiting for the provisioning talking to the Caliph. The explorer had determined that something needed to be done with the Dark One's prison to make it a permanent prison, and one that would not destroy al-Rhayidh as it drew its powers from the lands. The explorer and the Caliph also discussed trade options, taking advantage of Eric's familial ties with Karasimi to establish profitable spice trades.
Breanna spent her time shopping for wedding presents. The wedding was now less than a year away, but she was not going to be able to find truly exotic gifts once she got home. And al-Rhayidh was exotic.
In the mean time, Rishala searched through shops for the finest parchment he could find. Al-Rhayidhian parchment was renowned throughout the world for its quality, and Rishala wanted the best he could find. He also found quills and inks, enough to write a truly epic tale. He was going to be busy for a long time, writing everything down.
The days in al-Rhayidh passed quickly, with the party taking a chance to spend time in a civilized environment once more, in clean clothes, without layers of sweat and dirt caked on them. When the fleet was ready to travel, they boarded the elven ship that had carried them here and sailed for Brallian.
The trip to Brallian took just a couple of weeks. Rishala spent his time in his room, coming out only for meals. Breanna spent her time studying the books she had collected, and the copies of books that the Caliph had provided her. Kasey maintained his vigil over Sturm's coffin, while Eric, Adria, and Bilbus rested.
The fleet reached Brallian on a warm, late spring day. Several of the troop ships were able to dock at the same time, and men and orcs began to unload. The panicked screams of dock workers seeing orcs marching onto the piers greeted the party as they walked down their own gangplank.
"Hells," Eric cursed. He had been around the Tree Eaters orcs for so long that he had already forgotten the reactions of most people to them. Shouting, he said, "Knights and Footmen, secure the docks! Keep the peace. Get my horse readied! I need to talk to the king!"
"That's going to take too long," Bilbus said. "Bree, get your carpet. Make it invisible. Fly me to the king's castle."
Breanna quickly unrolled her carpet. She and Bilbus sat down on it, and she cast the dweomer to make it vanish. The two flew quickly towards the shoreside castle of the king of Brallian. When they reached the castle, Breanna sent the carpet into a slow descent.
"We can't land at the front gatehouse and appear," Bilbus pointed out. He recognized a secluded spot in the noble housing near a stables. "Land there. We can walk up to the entrance."
Breanna did as instructed, landing the carpet near some trees just outside of a corral. As she released the invisibility weaving, she looked at the horses in the corral. "Is that Acquisition 2?"
Bilbus glanced at the horses. "Yep." He looked at Acquisition, who was walking towards him, nickering. "I'll be back for you tonight. Just sit tight."
Breanna rolled her carpet and tied it shut, then slung it over a shoulder. She and Bilbus walked up the hill towards the castle's gatehouse. They reached the gatehouse at the same time that Eric arrived, bareback on his horse.
"That was fast," Bilbus commented.
"I'm General Eric Ithell," Eric shouted, ignoring Bilbus. "I need to see the king, right away!"
One of the gate guards escorted the three to the king's throne room.
King Kelaghan greeted the party warmly. "I am glad to see that you have returned. You succeeded?"
"Yes," Eric said. "But I need to talk to you about the situation at the docks."
The King's brow furrowed. "I heard that orcs are landing there. Is your army ready to face them?"
"There are orcs at the docks," Eric confirmed. "But they are part of my army. They switched sides, and they were critical to our victory. Without them, we would not have stopped the Dark One."
"The orcs are friendly?"
"Yes, king. They are friendly. And we have promised them safe passage to their homes."
"I see. Very well. I want them through Brallian quickly. I hope you understand." He paused for a moment. "Would you be receptive to talking to one of my representatives about trade agreements?"
Eric paused. It was an unexpected change of subject, and it was not a subject he would have expected a king of a foreign land to discuss with a minor noble like Eric. "I would. Now is not a good time. I hope you understand."
"Of course. I will dispatch an emissary to Armagh to talk to you."
"Thank you, your highness. I need to leave to organize the army."
"Good journey, General Ithell. And thanks to you and your friends for what you have done for us."
Eric rode back to the docks while Breanna and Bilbus flew back, once more invisible. Bilbus looked around at the town. It was much different looking at it from overhead during the day. Last time he had flown over Brallian had been at night, as he had used a dweomer to sneak around and hunt down the man who had tried to kill him.
Once back at the docks, the party watched as the army disembarked and organized itself. It was late in the afternoon before the fleet had unloaded the entire force. The party had formed up at the front of the winding column, making ready to march up the Via Avillonia and out of Brallian.
Bilbus looked back at the assembled army. He then grinned, a lopsided smile, and looked at Eric. "Want to turn this into a triumphal parade?"
Eric grinned back at his friend. "Sure."
Bilbus turned Acquisition 3 around and rode back to Fists Commander Krag. "Fists Commander, do the orc drummers have a triumph cadence?"
"Yes," the orc said, baring his sharp teeth in a smile. He told Bilbus the order. Bilbus rode back to the head of the column, next to Eric. "Ready?"
Eric nodded.
"Drummers!" Bilbus shouted over his shoulder in orc. He heard Fists Commander Krag repeat the shout, then several other orcs -- the commanders of the individual fists -- repeat it. "Victory Drums!" He paused again as the order was once more echoed. "March!"
The shout of four fists of orcs -- still over two thousand strong -- repeating "Victory Drums! March!" roared through the docks region. The thunder of drums quickly replaced the shouts, and the army marched forward along the Via Avillonia. The party took the lead, with Jamie's Band and the wagon with Sturm's coffin behind them. The remaining hundred Church Knights rode behind the wagon, and the hundred surviving Footmen of Camelough, the elves, and the Sword of the Church followed the knights. The orc fists followed the humans, and supply wagons followed the army.
People cleared out of the way of the long column of warriors. The Via ahead of the party was empty -- the first time any of them had seen an empty road in Brallian. Hundreds of people lined the sides of the broad avenue, and more hung out of windows to watch the procession. The tenor of the crowd changed as the army marched forward. The curious and fearful voices near the docks turned into cheers by the time the army reached the edge of town. Despite the large presence of orcs, the Eiresudians realized that it was a friendly, victorious army. Word slowly spread that the army had defeated the Dark One. The cheers following the party out of the city competed with the drums for volume.
Outside of town, the army set camp for the night. The guards -- orc and men alike -- were besieged with people bringing gifts, mostly food and drink. The gifts tapered off late in the night, and the camp settled into a quiet slumber.
Eric maintained the triumphal parade formation each time the army passed through a village or town on the way to Kells. Five days' journey saw them at the Church's spiritual center. Once more, the drums heralded the arrival of the army, but this time the city was ready for them. Thousands of people, all aware of what the army represented, cheered their arrival. The severely depleted Shield of the Church, as well as the priests who had traveled with them, were welcomed as local heroes. Once the army had settled north of town, the party rode back into town to meet with the Church leaders. The elves followed the party. They were taking their leave to head back to their forest.
"Bilbus, tell me again why that's not Acquisition 4?" Eric asked as the party stopped on the greens between the cathedral and castle.
Bilbus climbed down from his race horse. He had left Acquisition 3 in the stables from where he had stolen the horse initially, and had taken Acquisition 2 back, the night that the army had camped outside of Brallian.
Bilbus just rolled his eyes. It was nice having the shorter, faster horse once again.
Several of the elves marched up and stopped next to Adria's horse. They waited for her to climb down, then the leader of the group, Officer Stargaze, the company champion, stepped forward.
"The Elven Archers are returning to our home," he said.
"We appreciate your help in the battle," Adria said.
"Elven Archers do not leave their own behind alone. You are one of us, now. We are going with you. Man has shown promise at long last, and the new era that dawns will be a great one for humanity. It is time for elves and men to live and work together." He stopped for a moment, looking towards the north. "Word will spread amongst the elves. We will be up to company strength once more by spring."
Adria could hear her husband gasp. He already had four fists of orcs fiercely loyal to him, and now there was going to be a company of two hundred elven archers in Portsdale, as well.
The army marched northeast, past Tagellin and on towards the hamlet of Twin Saddles. Bilbus had an important meeting with a dragon.
Conran Glashan, the high chamberlain of Lord Nighvass, escorted the party to the dragon's lair.
"Anmanivas," Bilbus spoke. "I am returning the Answerer to you, as we had agreed. In exchange, you will return my signet ring and I will keep my lands." He held the sword out to the dragon. "I don't think we even used it."
The dragon inspected the noble. Bilbus still wore the replica of the plate armor of Uther Paendroeg. In its deep voice, the dragon spoke. Glashan translated:
"Lord Anmanivas will destroy the contract and let you keep the sword in exchange for your armor. He is quite fond of the older styling of it."
What would I do with the sword? Bilbus wondered. He glanced over at Eric. Oh. "Very well. Help me out of the armor?" he asked his friends.
Once he was out of the suit of plate armor, the dragon held its enormous claws near Bilbus, delicately measuring him. It rumbled out measurements that Glashan dutifully wrote down.
"Anmanivas is impressed you held so still," Glashan announced afterwards. "He needed to measure you so he can have a stand constructed for the armor."
As the party made ready to leave, Adria turned back to the dragon. She walked forward, holding Gretorixmar. "I am leaving Gretorixmar with you. It seems fitting that Sturm was the last one to wield it. And it will be safer here than anywhere I can imagine."
Glashan translated a question. "Anmanivas is curious about Sturm's story. What did he do?"
"I am writing his tale," Rishala said. "You will have the first manuscript as soon as I finish writing it."
"Lady Breanna and I are to be wed next spring," Eric said. "You are invited, of course."
"Lord Nighvass, the man, will be happy to attend," Glashan explained. "I am sure you can understand why Anmanivas will not." The dragon intoned something else. "Although Anmanivas would like to work out an agreement for more of the wines."
"We will arrange something," Eric promised.
The party took its leave.
On the way out of the cave, Rishala said, "This is a safe place. Once Anmanivas has my manuscript, it will out last all of us in there. I don't want to live forever, but my name will always be preserved in there. It's like immortality."
After leaving the quiet valley around Twin Saddles, the army marched along the southern edge of the Middle Ranges, avoiding Arabel Cinlu, then across the ranges to the Chuthaim Valley. They arrived at the Scowling Knight Vineyards late in the morning, surprising the workers. Kasey organized the grave digging as Eric took the employees aside.
"Sturm is dead," Eric said. "He died saving us from the Dark One."
One of the employees spoke up. "What... What do we do now?"
"Keep working," Eric said. "Sturm wanted Sir Bittrand to take over the vineyards." Eric pointed at the Church Knight. Kasey looked up when he heard his name. He smiled and waved, then walked over to the meeting.
"Smiling Knight Vineyards?" the employee asked.
"No," Kasey said. "The name is going to be the same. But we are also going to start making ales. I have an idea for one I'd call Bittrand's Bitters."
Once the grave was ready, the party lowered Sturm's coffin into it. As Kasey filled the hole, Bilbus delivered a short eulogy for the knight. Rishala followed it with a funerary service. The party spent the night at the vineyards, then marched on for Llwelyn.
Once the army reached Llwelyn, they found that the Sun Knights still were holed up in the Sunkeep. Eric offered to force them out of the castle, but the city's Lord High Mayor refused the offer. The remains of the Sun Knights were harming no one, and they never ventured out of their castle. They would run low on supplies eventually.
Still, Eric marched his entire army past the Sunkeep. When they could get no one to parlay with them, they moved on for Armagh.
The party reached the Armagh region a week before the summer solstice. South of town, as they marched along the Via Avillonia, they could see the fields of grain crops. Fields full of cows or sheep were scattered between the fields, with children tending the sheep. One of the children who saw the army ran north for town.
Fists Commander Krag asked Bilbus, "Where do we put the army? We do not want to damage crops."
"I'll ask," Bilbus replied in orcish. To his friends, he asked, "Where do we put the army?"
"In the forest behind my house," Breanna answered. She described how to find her home.
Krag dispatched orders, then collected a drummer and one of his subordinates to follow him and Sultz into town. Four orcs should be plenty.
Eric put Jamie's Band in front, with he and his friends following them, Adria's elves behind them, and the four orcs following. The party rode forward, marched into town to the beat of a single powerful drummer.
Kasey looked over at Breanna's outfit. She wore her leather armor pants, but she had decided on wearing the explicitly detailed breastplate that Bilbus had ordered for her in Erelhei Cinlu, with nothing else on under or over it. It was well-lined on the inside, but it created a very shocking appearance, with her bare, tanned arms, her centaur's tattoo, and the dully gleaming steel of the armor.
"That is too severe," Kasey tsk'd. He climbed off of Farran and dug through his saddlebags. He found some red silk sashes and tied them onto her upper arms, creating the illusion of an off-the-shoulder blouse under the breastplate.
The Church Knight then loosened the girth strap on Farran's saddle and walked with the kelpie-horse towards town.
They crested a final hill and looked at the town of Armagh. A crowd was already forming on the south end of town, along the Via. Word of an approaching army spread quickly throughout the town. Jamie and his friends trotted towards town, the Armagh city banner held high.
Breanna looked at the town. It had been six months since she had been home last, and she had never realized how small and rustic Armagh was. The buildings were all drab, with the exception of the home of the one elven family in town. The entire town could almost fit into the bazaar of al-Qayir. She wondered why she had always thought Armagh was a large town.
As the party reached the edge of town, cheering erupted. People greeted their fellow townsfolk, now returned from a grand adventure, like the victorious heroes they were. Some of the older women were looking disapprovingly at Breanna's choice of outfits.
"What's with Bree?" Bilbus asked Eric quietly.
"I think she is having a problem reconciling her old life here with what she's done for most of the last year," Eric replied.
They could see riders coming into town from the west. Eric recognized both his father and Breanna's father on horseback. "Bree, our fathers approach," he informed Breanna.
"Jamie!" Breanna hissed. "Give me father's sword!"
"Why?"
"Just give it to me!" she insisted. Jamie reluctantly removed the sword belt and gave the sword to Breanna. Breanna immediately gave the sword to Bilbus. "Go break into my father's house and put the sword on its mount above the fireplace."
Bilbus took the sword. "Okay." He rode off quickly, circling around the town to the south as Adair Ceiturin and Janus Ithell rode down the town's paved main street.
Lords Ithell and Ceiturin stopped next to the party. Janus had a welcome smile on his face as he looked at his son and his son's friends. Adair was livid.
"What in the Hells are you doing dressed like that, Breanna?" he shouted. "Where have you been for the last six months?" Breanna opened her mouth to reply. "Why aren't you wearing proper clothes?" He turned to Jamie, who had been riding closer to his father. "And where is my sword?"
Jamie glanced at Breanna nervously. She did not have the sword. "I... I don't know."
"Father, where are your manners?" Breanna barked. She immediately softened her voice. "Jamie and I have been away, and we return home with Young Lord Ithell, Lord and Lady del Cartach, and Lord Bittrand, and this is how you greet us? And you do this publicly? Perhaps the classes I was sent to for manners were incorrect."
Adair scowled at Breanna, then turned to Lord Ithell for support. "Janus?" he asked as he gestured towards Breanna.
"Lady Breanna Ceiturin," Janus said formally, "it is good to see you again. I trust you had memorable travels." Breanna nodded politely to him. "And son, I am glad to see you home once more. I have received your dispatches, but I am sure there is much else that was unsaid." He continued with his greetings, ignoring the quiet gurgle coming from Lord Ceiturin. At last, he turned back to Adair. "Perhaps a drink would serve you well? A tavern is right there."
Adair took the opportunity to step away from the exchange. He tied his horse off at the post and went inside. Right after he had gone inside the tavern, Bilbus rode back. He had a leg of mutton in one hand and a large pickle in the other. He took a bite of the mutton and passed it on to Kasey, then handed the pickle to Adria.
"It was lunch time," Bilbus chuckled. "I think I confused the staff, breaking in and returning the sword."
"I've caused enough chaos," Breanna said sheepishly. "I need to get changed."
"Let's go back to the house," Janus Ithell offered. "I have a letter for you, Lord del Cartach. You can get cleaned up, and we can have dinner tonight. It will give Lady del Cartach a chance to rest. I imagine the long trip has not been enjoyable. And Meko will have someone to fuss over."
As the party followed Janus towards the Ithell house, Fists Commander Krag stopped Bilbus to ask a question. "Is that an ale house?" the orc asked, pointing towards the tavern Adair had entered.
Bilbus nodded.
"Do you think we will be able to buy drinks?"
"If they refuse you, come get me and I will personally make sure they understand. I will be there." He pointed towards the Ithell house on its hill west of town. "Just remember, men are not as strong as orcs, and they do not tend to be as rowdy."
"We will behave well," Krag promised.
"Go get some drinks. You've more than earned it."
Bilbus rode off to catch up with his friends as Krag led the other three orcs into the tavern. Several of Jamie's Band joined them, curious to see how orcs would be received at home.
By the time Bilbus reached the Ithell manor house, Meko and her staff had whisked Adria away for a bath and grooming. Meko had sent several of her servants to search for her maternity clothes, insistent that they could be adjusted to fit Adria. While the staff were busy with Adria and with preparations for the evening meal, Janus took the rest of his guests into his library.
"You will want to clean up, I'm sure. I've ordered water heated for your baths, once Meko lets Adria out of the bathing room. Bilbus, this is the latest letter I've received from the caretakers in Portsdale. Adria's mother returned to Portsdale early in the spring so someone from the noble household was present." Janus gave Bilbus the letter.
The noble skimmed through the report.
15th Duir 2045
Lord del Cartach -
I am sending this report to Lord Ithell in the hopes that he will see you sooner than I. This report supersedes the previous reports I have sent.
There are political machinations afoot in the Dales that have had dire repercussions for the city of Portsdale. An unsavory element has been acting within the city, and both the del Cartach estate and the del Quintin estate have been subjected to attempts to burn down buildings. Criminal elements in the city have taken to preying upon the cityfolk in brazen ways, and the town watch has been decreasingly effectual. Few of the cityfolk are willing to talk freely with us, since we are not only from out of town, but from another land, but I suspect the same organization that has been attacking the town has been corrupting the town watch.
The Baron Rufors del Bartholo has dispatched requests for financial assistance and for men to help in his own machinations. His most recent dispatch indicates that he is now a member of the Dales Inner Council, and that you will soon be rewarded for your support.
Taxes have been problematic this season, between the difficulties caused by the criminal elements and the difficulties caused by there being no lord in the city. Fortunately, the trade business has been doing astoundingly well. Your minister of trade, the Master Pete, seems to have a keen eye for turning a profit, although I worry that he may be engaged in less legal behaviors, as well. I will trust in your judgment on these matters, of course.
I hope you will be able to return to Portsdale soon, for I fear the populace is on the brink of open rebellion. How much of this is externally provoked, I can not say, but it is a factor, I am certain.
In Your Service,
Acanus Prosser
Acting Administrator of Portsdale
"There used to be a barony in Portsdale years ago," Bilbus said to no one in particular. "I think there should be one there once again. And I think Adria and I can make it happen."
The evening meal was in the formal, Azirian-styled, dining room. Bilbus had taken a seat on one of the cushions next to the table. Adair Ceiturin had arrived early, still drunk from his afternoon tavern visit. Sultz escorted Adria into the room and helped her take a seat on the cushion next to Bilbus. The orc wore snug Azirian robes, and he looked mildly bewildered in the garment. Adria wore a stunning Azirian red silk dress that fit her very well -- Meko's staff had altered one of her own maternity dresses to fit. Breanna and Eric arrived a few moments later. Breanna looked the part of a noble once more, other than the fine toning of the muscles in her exposed arms. Kasey had been muttering earlier in the afternoon about adjusting Breanna's old dresses to fit her. Kasey himself wore his simple formal clothes that he had worn for other occasions on the trip.
Bilbus suspected it was the only formal outfit Kasey had brought with them. As the dinner got underway, he leaned close to Adria and repeated his observation about a barony in Portsdale.
"We could do that. We should throw a party when we get back," Adria replied.
"Why?!?" Bilbus asked.
"It shows our opposition how powerful we are."
Bilbus gestured towards Sultz, who stood against the wall of the room, watching the goings on and chewing on something a servant had brought him. "We have orcs. Lots of them."
Adria shook her head. "No. We have to be nice to them. That's how the game of nobles is played. The more dangerous you are, the nicer you can afford to be to your enemies."
Rishala showed up, late and apologizing. He wore his kilt and a formal shirt, but there were ink stains on his fingers. He took a seat next to Adria.
A servant entered the room. He spoke quietly to Janus, but the rest at the table could hear it. "Lord Ithell, the town watch has reported that Young Lord Ceiturin and... 'Jamie's Band' are being rowdy in a tavern, with the four orcs. The orcs are teaching songs to the young men."
"Is anyone getting hurt?" Janus asked.
"No, my lord."
"Very well. Tell the owner of the tavern that I will personally see to any damages they cause. Otherwise, let them enjoy the evening."
"Very well, my lord." The servant bowed and left.
"Hey, Rishala," Kasey said. "You want me to formally introduce you to my half-sister, right? Ride with me to Londoun. I need to stop at my Londoun house, then we can ride to Sulster."
"All right," Rishala accepted.
"Rishala," Eric then asked. "I haven't really asked this of you, but would you perform our wedding ceremony?"
"Aye," Rishala agreed. "Happily."
Breanna looked across the table at Adria. "Adria, may I be present at the birth?"
"I would have no one else there, Bree."
Sultz stood against the wall of the room, chewing on a spicy meat that a servant had brought to him. Lord Hogain... Lord del Cartach, he corrected himself, was enjoying a meal with his friends. Bilbus had offered the Tree Eaters Tribe full welcome when they reached his home, and the lord of this town had allowed Sultz, Fists Commander Krag, and their two fellow orc soldiers to visit an ale house. After a lifetime of being a subject of drow rule, Sultz was still trying to grasp the feelings he now had. These men treated orcs as equals, not property. They had invited him into their home, dressed him in their formalwear, offered him tasty food and drink. Even the Tree Eaters seemed to be overwhelmed with the level of welcome they had received.
Perhaps the prophecies he had heard as a child were true. Perhaps the greatest Era was the one that was beginning.
Back to the previous chapter: Wastes
Continue to the next chapter: Reflections
Back to the Book IV Index.
Back to the Dark Mysteries Campaign Chapter Index.
Original Draft 21 April 2004
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