Cyrus woke the others as soon
as the sun rose. McGowan prepared the fire and laid out a quick breakfast
before loading their gear and continuing through Ogre Pass. Once they reached
the end of the pass the landscape changed. The woods became dense, the road
smooth and uncluttered. Their thoughts
now were split between the task before them and the well being of their friend.
They could only hope Elrion would reach Metier again in time.
The friends stopped briefly in
a small village called Crossroads, restocking food and buying more horses.
After asking around to see if anyone had seen Malkar, the companions were off
to Tiermane, hoping to reach the city by the next evening, weather permitting.
As they reached the midpoint of
their journey, Thordex began to feel uneasy.
“Something’s not right here.”
Bringing his horse to a stop,
Cyrus turned to the halfling curiously.
“What’s wrong, Thordex?”
“I just have a strange feeling,
as if something is out of place here. Like we’re being watched.”
“An accurate assumption, my
dear halfling.” a voice replied from the trees. In moments, a dozen men had
dropped onto the roadside from the cover of the branches. Most were dressed in
leather stained to match the surrounding forest, but one man was dressed all in
black. His face was dirty, his hair unkempt.
“Bandits.” Avengard muttered
under his breath.
“Quite the contrary, we are
mere tax collectors insuring anyone passing through these woods are protected
from said bandits.” the man in black laughed.
“What kind of tax do you
collect?” McGowan asked.
The man in black turned to the
others and smiled. “Why, protections tax, as I said.”
The man grinned wickedly as he
began walking towards Cyrus. “Just pay us twenty gold each for the tax and you
can be on your way.”
Balifore, having been silent
through the entire conversation, adjusted his robe and pulled his hood lower
over his face. Having seen the slight move, the man in black stepped towards
Balifore’s horse and grabbed ahold of the reigns.
“And what of you, my good sir?”
the man asked Balifore. “Do you agree with my offer, or must my men convince
you of the dangers of the woods?”
Balifore raised his head
slightly, an eerie glow displaying his elven features.
“I suggest you release my mare,
or the danger of these woods will be the least of your problems.” He growled.
The man in black shook his head
slowly. “A fine display of arrogance on your part, but it will cost you now.”
The man pointed towards McGowan and turned away from the group. Before anyone
could even figure out what was going on, an arrow buried itself in the cleric’s
shoulder. Whimpering, McGowan fell from his horse, landing on the ground hard.
Cyrus drew Dragonslayer and Avengard his sword. The men by the roadside
drew their weapons as well, but stood their ground when the man in black raised
his arm.
“There are currently several
archers watching you for any sudden moves. Put away your weapons, or I will
order them to fire. Dead or alive, you will not leave until we are compensated
for our services.”
“You bastard!” Cyrus spat. “I
should take your head for what you’ve done.”
Balifore, in shock from this
recent turn of events, stared at the fallen form of his friend. This is my
fault, he thought. Because of me, they shot him. A swelling of anger began to
boil within Balifore’s being.
“No.” he muttered. “It was your
fault. You had the archer shoot him, not me.”
“Did you say something, mage?”
the man in black grinned at him with yellowed teeth.
The Talisman never moved other
than to mouth the words to a spell he had rarely used. As he chanted, the man
in black’s smile disappeared. Feeling dizzy, he dropped unceremoniously to his
knees as he began to retch loudly. Flies the size of marbles poured from every
orifice of his body then, most streaming out of his mouth like a black sludge.
With a gurgle, the man fell face forward onto the ground, a few of the flies
still hovering around the man’s now dead body. Shocked, the bandits backed away
from the group slowly.
“By the gods!” one whispered.
“He’s a Rune Lord.”
“The Dark One never told us we
would be dealing with a Talisman!” his companion gasped.
“Run!”
As chaos ensued, Cyrus and
Avengard leaped from their saddles to check on McGowan, weapons ready for a
barrage of arrows. Balifore, still not satisfied in his vengeance, pointed his
arm, fingers extended, towards the tree where the arrow had come from. The tree
burst into purple flame that burned so brightly that Cyrus was momentarily
blinded by it. Luckily he did not witness the body of the archer falling from a
high branch. The man’s body vaporized before it even hit the ground. When he regained his sight, the tree was no
longer there, disintegrated to a fine ash by the sheer power of Balifore’s rune
magic. Strangest of all was that none of the other trees surrounding it were
even scorched in the slightest.
“How is he?” Balifore asked in
an unnaturally calm voice.
It took Cyrus a few moments
before he could find his voice to answer. “He’ll be all right. It just hit him
in the shoulder.”
“Speak not of this moment ever
again.” the Talisman said. “Ever.”
Avengard nodded to Balifore
hesitantly. He had always respected him, but because of the forbidden rune
magic he wielded, he equally disgusted him. With his respect for the man now
came a new emotion. An emotion he didn’t expect in regards to Balifore.
Avengard feared him.
Grull sat up, rubbing his
wrists. He stood and looked to Talric, hurt by the elf's earlier accusations.
“I just want to help lady. I ask for help, you help me. Makes me feel funny.
All warm inside.”
Talric turned as he heard
Veronica moan, walking as quickly as he could to her side. She shook her head
as if trying to shake off the effects of bad ale. Talric put his arm around her
to brace her unsteady body. The bruise that had been prominent on her forearm
was almost completely gone now.
“You were hurt bad. How do you
feel?” He asked.
“Fine, I suppose.” She peered
around curiously. “Where are we?
“In a gully a few miles south
of Metier.”
“I don't understand. Where are Cyrus and the others?”
Talric shook his head as he
grabbed her hurriedly by the arm. “I'll explain later. There's orcs beyond
those trees.” He said, pointing to his left. “Come on. We have to leave now
before more come.”
Talric pulled Veronica by the arm,
leading her away from the entrance. I hope this gully doesn't end in a drop off
or anything, he hoped. It was then that Veronica noticed Grull, standing behind
Talric. Her eyes widened in horror as she reached for her dagger. Talric's hand
darted for her wrist, catching it as she began to remove it from its sheath.
“Wait. He's on our side.”
Talric looked for a way to explain the orc. Giving up, he shook his head in
confusion. “I'll explain that later, too. Let's move.”
Turning to Grull, Talric saw
that the orc was moving around to where Veronica was as they tried to hobble to
safety. They ran nearly a half-mile before the elf fell to his knees, his legs
weak from exhaustion. Talric looked up to Veronica, her arms around his
shoulders to help him up.
“I don't know if I can go any
further. I've lost a lot of blood.” The elf said, clutching the wound on his
shoulder. His ribs felt like they had been slammed with a hammer.
Veronica peered around at her
surroundings. “That's okay. I think this will do.”
Muttering the language of
magic, she reached into her robe and pulled out something that Talric failed to
see. Immediately, she disappeared, leaving the elf confused.
“I'm still here, Talric.” He
heard her voice say. “Just stay near me and we're all invisible.”
Talric glanced down at his
hands, only to see they were not there.
“How did you do that? I thought
you would be too weak.” He asked.
Talric felt a hand touch his
shoulder. “I feel fine. Whatever was wrong with me, I'm over it now.” Her voice
broke off abruptly. “Be completely silent. Here they come.”
The elf reached out his hand,
brushing up against what felt like leather. He drew it closer.
“Be still, Grull. They can't
see us.” He said reassuringly.
Within moments, a group of six
orcs came into view. They were jogging loudly, their armor and weapons clanking
against each other. Their heads darted back and forth as they ran, looking for
any sign of their prey. As they passed by the three, Talric felt Grull shudder.
Whether in fright or rage, the elf couldn't be sure. When the sound faded from
their ears, Talric stood up.
“We have to get out of here.”
He stated. “They may be back through here any time now.”
“My spell can last for quite a
while.” Veronica told him. “If we stick close together and be quiet, we can
slip right through them.”
Talric nodded, more out of
habit than anything else. They walked as quickly as they could, sticking so
close together the three couldn't help but step on each other occasionally.
It was nearly an hour later
when the spell wore off. It didn't really matter by then. The sounds of orc
patrols had disappeared long ago, probably giving up on their pursuit. Veronica
stuck close by Talric, still fearful of the orc that traveled alongside her.
“What's this business with this
orc?” She asked, casting a glance towards Grull.
“His name is Grull.” Talric
started. “There were a few orcs back there that had him tied to a tree, beating
him. I don't know what persuaded me to help, but it just didn't look right.”
Veronica reached down and clasped
his hand in hers. She smiled up at him, her bright eyes seeming to glow. “My
Talric. Always coming to the rescue of anyone in distress.”
Talric smiled back at her and
gazed into her eyes. “It just didn't look right.” He repeated. He looked over
to Grull, whose face had calmed considerably. Somehow, he no longer seemed to
be an orc to Talric.
“You never told me how you
healed her back there, Grull. Where did you pick up such a power?” He asked.
Veronica looked at the orc in
surprise then turned to Talric. “Healed me? He... healed me?”
Grull, still looking straight
ahead, let out a lingering sigh. “There is legend in my clan that say special
orc born to our people.” He began. “He called Woundmaster. He orc that use
special power to hurt people. I was born with this power. But, I didn't want to
hurt people. I think it better if I help.” He bowed his head in sorrow, his
eyes closing in painful remembrance. “Chief doesn’t think so. He says I weak.
He tries to make me hurt, but I don't. Make chief mad. Say I'm con-tamin-
contamin-”
“Contaminated.” Veronica
helped, listening to the story with interest.
“Yes.” Grull shook his head.
“Say I not real Woundmaster. I weak minded. But he just jealous. I more smarter
than him.”
“Interesting story.” she said
as she started to assess their situation. “Maybe we should rest here for the
night. I don’t think you’re going to be running much further, Talric, and Grull
looks like he’s about to drop from exhaustion.
“It’s the powers. They make me
tired when I do them.”
“Just a bit further then. We’re
almost near the road.” Talric agreed. “From there, it won’t take us long to
reach Metier in the morning.”
The three stopped near the edge
of the plains at almost midnight, the road leading to Metier barely visible
through the waving grass. To Veronica's astonishment, Grull healed Talric's
wound, the elf feeling good as new not long after. Veronica had time to learn a
spell that created a magically hidden shelter for them, allowing them to rest
without putting out a watch. Everyone was exhausted, especially Grull. In
addition to Veronica and Talric, he had used his own healing arts on himself.
This seemed to exhaust him the most. Talric wasn't sure if it was because he
had healed so much or if it only took more out of him to heal himself. Grull
fell asleep immediately. Talric and Veronica sat together, talking quietly so
as not to disturb the orc.
“Grull's not such a bad guy.”
Veronica said with a smile.
“He's the most unusual being
I've ever run across.” The elf said in a near whisper. “I don't think I'll ever
run into another like him.”
Her hand stroked Talric's arm.
“You're not so bad yourself.” She said in jest.
“Look,” Talric whispered to
her. “I lied to you about that night we were attacked by the Brotherhood.”
What do you mean?”
“I mean that I do remember
everything I said to you when I thought I was going to die. I just felt
afterwards that it wasn't time to let you know how I felt about you. After
everything that's happened in the last few months, I think I can finally tell
you how much I love you.”
Veronica looked into the elf's
eyes and suddenly felt the depth of his love for her. It felt suddenly as if a
great pressure had leapt from her heart. All these months of keeping her
emotions bottled up inside of her was finally over. She grinned at Talric,
receiving a grin in return.
“Can I kiss you?” She asked
after a moment's hesitation.
The elf's smile brightened.
“Only if I get to kiss you.”
They both laughed briefly,
Veronica reaching for him to bring him closer. She kissed him passionately,
letting all of her troubles fall from her. Their hands roamed over each other's
bodies until Veronica pulled away abruptly.
“We better stop.” She panted.
“Not in front of Grull at least.”
Talric looked deeply into her
eyes, pleading but understanding.
“Maybe you’re right.” He
agreed.
They lay together, neither
knowing what to say next. Without warning, Veronica rolled over to straddle
him, kissing him briefly on the lips.
“To hell with modesty.” She
said between kisses. Talric reached up and opened her robe, letting the
material fall from her shoulders.
His back turned to the two
lovers, Grull's face split in a wide grin.
The path to Tiermane ran
northeast through the edge of a large wooded area. The trail was perhaps fifty
yards from the edge of the tree line, the clutter of pines and oak trees packed
loosely together. The trip was relaxing, a cool breeze blowing through the tall
trees keeping them chilly, but comfortable. They paused after a brief travel,
relaxing and talking merrily until near midnight. Avengard set up the first
watch, waking Cyrus after a few hours to take over.
As morning approached, everyone
was surprised to have been awakened by the distinct smell of sausage. Cyrus had
taken one of his
rare turns at making breakfast, allowing McGowan to sleep in. Even Thordex had
to admit that Cyrus wasn't a bad cook. McGowan helped out anyway, cooking his
famous trail biscuits that they all enjoyed so much. They lounged around to
settle their foods, then packed their gear and continued their journey.
The companion’s travel on the
road this day was uneventful. As midday approached, they reached the outer gate
of Tiermane. After a thorough briefing
of their business by the uniformed guard, they were released into the city.
The town was huge and covered a large area of land. Buildings were spaced
fairly far apart with enough alley areas for the thieves of the city to do
their dirty work. The streets were still cluttered with merchants and townsfolk
speaking in hushed tones. The group received a few curious glances as they
progressed down the main road that went straight through the city to the hub,
housing the main governmental buildings. Balifore asked a patrolling guard for
directions to the library, only to be told that there was no true library in
Tiermane. All of the text found in the city was distributed between the five
houses; The Mage’s Sanctum, The Church Depository, Peacekeeper Citadel, the
Congressional Archives and the Hall of Records. The friends finally got
directions to someone they hoped would help them, the High Priestess of the
House of Lilliana. They hoped that news of their actions to save Amerynn Thanis
had reached the city.
The House of Frolic, Temple of
Lilliana, was a bleached rock building two stories
tall. Paintings of the goddess adorned most of the windows and a sculpture of
the goddess, a naked female riding a golden steed, sat in a small, manicured
garden in front of the building. Once inside, the friends were in awe of the
beauty of this temple. Torches that were held by sconces bolted to the wall
lighted the room brightly. Many of the holy followers of the goddess were lying
on giant pillows, caressing each other affectionately. Two beautiful
priestesses swayed towards them, one's hair a deep crimson the other jet black.
They wore tightly fitting gowns cut low, showing every curve of their
femininity.
“Good evening, travelers.” The crimson
haired woman gestured with open arms, “Welcome to House of Frolic. I am
Shara’an, high priestess' aide. My companion is sister Verissa. Is there
anything we can help you with?”
“Yes, thank you.” Cyrus
answered. “We would like to see the high priestess. Tell her Cyrus Redblade and
friends are here. We must speak with her most urgently.”
The dark haired Verissa bowed
smiling, then left for the back of the church.
“Would you like for me to show
you around?” Shara’an suggested, looking at Avengard.
Avengard spoke with pride. “I
would be honored, milady.”
“May I ask your name, sir
knight?”
“I am Avengard the Even-Handed.
I am a follower of Coram, but I am always intrigued by rituals of other
faiths.”
Shara’an grasped both of his
hands in hers and studied them briefly. “One glove white, the other black. The
symbol of Coram’s lost right hand?”
Avengard nodded. “I am left
handed as well.”
She grasped his arm and locked
it with hers. “Let us look around, shall we.” She gazed at his face and smiled
shyly.
Cyrus nudged Thordex and
murmured. “What was it you said about women falling for me all the time?”
Thordex looked at him and
smirked. “Never mind.”
They both started laughing
loudly. As they looked around, they noticed everyone in the temple was staring
at them. They cleared their throats and put on their most solemn faces, quickly
falling in step behind the others.
A few minutes later, Verissa
returned with the priestess. She was half elven and was perhaps the most
stunning priestess the companions had ever seen. She had long, straight black
hair that reached the small of her back. The robes she wore were of deep
crimson and were cut to show off every curve of her form. On her head sat a red
wimple with a V-shaped forehead piece, forged of the finest gold. Her eyes were
a deep blue that sparkled in the torchlight.
“Good day, gentlemen. I am High
Priestess Karalyn Delis’nalor. How may I be of service?”
Cyrus introduced the
companions. “We are on a mission of the utmost importance, holiness.”
“ I have heard of your
sacrifice for Amerynn Thanis and the thwarting of her assassination. I am at an
impasse as to what I could do to help you.”
Cyrus reached into his tunic
pocket and handed her the ring that Talric had found near his dead friend a
week ago. “Do you recognize this?” he asked.
Karalyn looked at the ring. “It
appears to be the symbol of the Brotherhood of Darkness. Did you not rid us of
them in Lockenwood?”
Avengard, still standing arm in
arm with Shara’an, shook his head. “It is with deep regret that we tell you the
Brotherhood is still active. We last heard that Malkar was headed here to look
for some great artifact. We know not what it is. We were hoping you had heard
word of his arrival.”
She thought for a long moment.
“I know not his name, but a strange man came through here recently. He went
directly to the Mage's Sanctum and stayed in one room for nearly a week. He
left only a few days ago out the west road towards Barlow, but not before he
murdered the High Arcanist, Lazalar, with a cowardly knife in the back.”
“Was this man ever taken in for
questioning?” Avengard asked.
Karalyn nodded. “He was. That
is when he escaped. He materialized through the back wall of his cell. His
spell components had been confiscated, but somehow he was still able to use his
magic.”
Avengard turned to Balifore in
suspicion. This man uses the same type of magic as him, he thought.
“I know what you're thinking,
knight. But it's not what you believe it is.” Balifore commented without even
turning to face Avengard.
“Then tell me, mage. What
explanation do you have?” the knight growled.
“I have been long convinced
that Malkar is a man with an internal power.” Balifore began as he turned and
looked towards the knight. “It is a power that is more dangerous than any spell
I know. I believe that Malkar is a Psion.”
“Impossible.” Cyrus responded.
“The Psions were wiped out long ago during the Clan Wars. It may be a power
similar to what they had, but Malkar is not a Psion.”
“Excuse me” Thordex raised his hand.
“What exactly do you mean by Psion?”
“It's a power gifted by the
gods. He can do all I can and more by just using his mind. He can invade and
take over your body as if you were a puppet.” His eyes burned holes into the
knight. “He can rearrange every fiber of his being to escape any trap. That's
how he got away. He can no more wield my magic than Cyrus can.”
The Talisman turned to Cyrus,
who had glanced over at him when his name was mentioned.
“It all makes sense now. When
pressed, the orc that attacked the Peacekeeper’s family had remembered only
that it felt as if he was in a dream. I believe Malkar had possessed the orc's
minds that attacked the knight's family. And it was this control he holds over
the minds of others that allowed him to kill your brother.”
Cyrus gritted his teeth in
rage. How dare him! Why would he dare bring up Darius' death like this?
“Think about it, my friend.
Your brother was strong. He had the Mark of the Clan within him. The
transformation your people undertake into the black griffon is a great power
indeed. Do you not believe, as I do, that the might of the black griffon could
easily best a simple Talisman?”
Balifore's explanation brought
back images of Darius' death. But with them this time also came the image of
the forests around Dragon's Keep, and Balifore. When Cyrus and Darius had first
met the mage, there had been a battle of magic versus steel. Balifore's magic
had been powerful, leveling several acres of forest and burning many more.
“He beat you.” Cyrus
remembered. “When he became the black griffon he was nearly immune to your
magic. It was he who let you see reason and end the fight.”
Balifore nodded
enthusiastically. “Yes. He did. Darius was my friend. His death has always
haunted me. I never understood why he didn't transform into the black griffon
when he was captured. It wasn't until the fight in Lockenwood that I first
witnessed Malkar's hidden power. My collapse after that fatal fireball was not
the result of the draining of my magic, but instead was the attack on my mind.
I was hit with a blast so powerful that I blacked out instantly. I had a
headache for the next two weeks after that.”
Karalyn grabbed Cyrus' elbow.
“If he indeed has this power, how will you stop him?”
Cyrus looked to each of his
friends in turn. “I don't know.” He admitted.
“If you wish, I can inform the
Sanctum that you want to view the room that Malkar stayed in. It was left just
as they found it when word of Lazalar's death reached them. They receive few
visitors, but I should have no problem gaining your admittance.”
Cyrus breathed a sigh of
relief. “We thank you for your time, Holiness. If we come across any new
developments, we will get word to you.” He bowed gracefully and took her hand
in his, kissing it softly. “Thank you again for your hospitality.”
Avengard turned to Shara’an and
smiled. “I had hope to have more time to get acquainted, but this matter needs
our full attention.” He kissed her on the hand, releasing her arm from his.
“Perhaps I could get the tour some other time.” Shara’an smiled at him and
lowered her head. Avengard gripped her hand for a moment, turning quickly to
leave the temple.
The adepts of the Mage's
Sanctum were not there when the companions arrived. A passing guard told them
that the mages had been in meditation in the hills beyond the city and would be
back tomorrow.
“Seems we've come to a
decision.” Cyrus informed them. “Do we stay here in hopes of finding out what
Malkar was looking for, or should we continue to Barlow and take our chances on
catching up to him?”
“I say we stay.” Thordex said
matter-of-factly. “If we find out what the bastard is after, we may be able to
beat him to it.”
“I am with Thordex.” Avengard
agreed. “He may not stay in Barlow for long. I do not wish to follow his lead
if we can discover what he seeks and reach it before him.” He looked to the
ground and clenched his fists. “I would like nothing more than to surprise him
at his destination. We would then see which is stronger...his magic or my
sword. “The knight clenched his jaw to punctuate his words.
McGowan pulled Cyrus of to one
side, out of earshot of the others. “You knew how they would answer.” He
murmured to the big warrior. “Why didn't you just tell them what we were to
do?”
Cyrus looked at him in slight
shock. “I can't no more tell them what to do than you could. What was that
supposed to mean?”
The priest grabbed him by the
arm. “They trust you, as do I. They all consider you our leader. Don't you know
that's why we're following you on your quest to stop Malkar? They would follow
you to the ends of the earth and you know it.”
“It is not my place to lead
others to what may be their deaths. When Darius died I-”
McGowan looked at his friend in
anger. “Is that what this is about? Your brother's capture and death was not a
fault of yours. We all know that now. Personally I believe Balifore's
explanation.” He nodded his head in the direction of the others. “They know,
too. We each travel in this realm knowing we could very well die at any time.
It's what we accept when we are brought into this world. You can't hold
yourself responsible for anything that may happen any more than Thordex can.
Did you know he felt guilty about your brother as well?”
Cyrus peered over his friend's
shoulder to look at Thordex, his fingers absently stroking the shadow dragon
medallion. “Why was he guilty?”
“Because he and Darius were as
close as you and I are is my guess. You have to have faith in yourself if we
are to succeed in this. If you falter now because of something that happened in
the past, the old man’s prediction will come true. Of that, I have no
doubt.”
Cyrus looked at McGowan. “I
didn't even think about their relationship in that way. Darius did have a
tendency to act protective of him. He always did want a younger brother.” He
sighed. “I’ll do my best to lead you all. I may need your help in this.”
McGowan smiled. “Always. With
Talric’s absence, someone has to be the logical one.”
“Anything going on over here we
should know about?” Balifore asked, walking towards them.
Cyrus looked at the Talisman.
“Everything's fine, Balifore. McGowan was just giving me his counsel on this
decision. Nothing more.”
“Is that all? Well I would like
to know that myself. What have you decided?”
Cyrus eyed McGowan, who grinned
at him. First the Elite Guard and now this, Cyrus told himself. If they need me
to be their leader, I will not let them down. They believe in me. Now it’s time
to believe in myself.
