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A Bloody Long Way Home
2nd Apri1608 Dawn broke on his final day in Arelin and he shared a hearty breakfast with the four heroes, Hildraft, Duzmakhmol, Heslor and Karcian, that had help complete the Hand of Kord's quest. Once breakfast had been completed, he bid them all a fond farewell and left the city. Hildraft accompanied him to the gate, were they said their final farewells. They would meet again, Surya was sure, the next time Alair was in need of great heroes. He just hoped they would be on the same side. He had decided to travel south initially and then northwest skirting
around the edges of the Red Dust Tract. This greatdesert was home to the
Red Dust Nomads. A loose nation of people made up of He had also heard that these nomads appear to have acquired a charismatic leader, something that happens from time to time in this land. May be would meet him or her. Once clear of the Red Dust he planned to continue travelling northwest until he reached the free port of Belegond and then northwards to home. The journey would take him at least two to three months, covering as it did over two thousand miles of, in some case very rough terrain. He kept in touch with his family using his magic and would return home quicker if there were any problems. He arrange with his son to meet him in Belegond and suggesting that they cover the final leg of his trip together. After a week's travel, Surya crossed out of the increasingly scrubby lands he'd been traversing and into the Red Dust proper. The Tract itself was a climactic peculiarity, with a combination of sea currents and lack of flowing water, there were no rivers anywhere near it, producing a dusty, barren desert. While not a roasting hot desert, it was an inhospitable place and those without considerable survival skills soon came to grief in it.
Another week and a half took him well on his way. The rather battered maps he'd brought along seemed to indicate he was roughly level with the oasis town of Tusmit, birthplace of his ex-comrade Kobort the sorcerer. It occurred to Surya to wonder if the red-haired spellweaver was this mighty leader rumour spoke of, but considering the nature of the man, he rather doubted it. He was shaken from his introspection by a flicker of movement on the
horizon. His spyglass showed horsemen cresting a distant rise and heading
in his direction. Lots of horsemen, riding extremely fast. Things were
about to get interesting! The riders approached Surya's position rapidly, their small, fast desert ponies making better speed across the soft ground than Surya's larger one could have attempted. Surya considered donning his robe of eyes, but the sun's glare was still to strong. Then he recalled the Eyes of Steadfast Gaze, which he had had commissioned to counter the effects of Sack's Sword of the Sun. With the devise in place, Surya now donned his robe once more. He then called to his mount, not the pit pony that he had road out of Arelin on, but Saethor the Mighty Nightmare. He instructed the beast to stay out of sight until needed. In a very few minutes, they were whirling around and around the lone northerner, controlling their mounts effortlessly with their legs as they readied various weapons. At no discernable command, they halted, and twenty-five wicked re-curved bows and twenty-five long, decorated lances were pointed inwards at the King of New Tellare. Slowly, one stepped his horse inwards. A narrow, cruel, dark face, surrounded by lank black hair, was framed by a pointed steel helm wrapped in white cloth to protect the neck from the sun. An anticipatory smile spread across his face as he regarded the heavily-armoured, pale-skinned stranger. "Well, you have enough metal to boil a dozen meals around you," he said in hideously-accented Common. "Shall we make but one bite of you?" The King of New Tellare had been considering removing his armour prior to this meeting, but was now rather please he had not. This might be fun, he thought. Without showing any hostility or fear, Surya moved his horse with the same skill as these nomads until he was directly in front of the nomadic leader. Surya locked his gaze with the stranger and then spoke, "Greetings
kind sir, please excuse my dress, but I am a lowly traveller many leagues
from home." Surya assumed he was the next victim for this band of
brigands, but without giving their leader another chance to poke further
fun at him, drew himself up in his saddle in the most intimidating fashion
he could muster and spoke again. At this point all the horsemen started to laugh out loud, this traveller had balls they thought, but they would be drying in the scorching desert sun soon. Before the laughter died down Surya spoke again, "You clearly doubt my capabilities, let me introduce myself before you do anything foolish. I am Surya of New Tellare, Dragonslayer, the finest swordsman and horseman, in all Alair." At this point the laughter started to die down, clearly some of the troop had heard of him. Expressions amongst the Kabirlah varied. Some were unaltered, clearly unaware of the legends of the north, but taking a moment to look again at this single armoured man, so confident in the face of superior odds. Others had obviously heard the tales, and whispered urgently together. The leader glanced sharply around, and silence fell, Surya noted his iron control of the wild horsemen in his band. Then he leaned on his saddle's pommel and spoke again. "Well, now, wouldn't it be nice," there was a bite to the word Surya had used of the day, "for you, if you just tell us, whoo, I'm a dangerous man, you don't want to fight me, and travel on through with all your valuables. 'Course, if I were a sceptic, I'd think, well, he would say that, wouldn't he? to myself. Well, the question you must be asking yourself is, am I sceptical? Well, today isn't your lucky day. I don't believe a tenth of what I hear from the North. Idiots up there think being trapped in stone houses makes them gods. You can prove it, I think. Klart!" For a moment Surya was taken aback, as if the sudden yell was a curse, but as one of the horsemen spurred his horse forwards, he realized it was a name. Klart, it seemed, was the single-combat champion of this band. "If you beat Klart," the leader had to stop here to allow the roars of laughter to die down, "if you beat Klart, I'll admit that these stories have some grounding in fact, and let you go on for a nominal tribute. If you don't, of course - all your worries are over." Worried would the correct frame of mind for a normal man faced with Klart. He was huge, heavily built, armoured in light but well-kept hide armour, but with a flash of real intelligence below the beetling brows. A dangerous opponent. But today, he faced Surya of Tellare; the man who beat Artila, Wyrmslayer, black magician, reaper of demons. The king grinned and drew his blades. This won't take long, he thought. The Kabirlah chieftain barked a laugh. "No! No, no blades, stone-house-man,
no tin suits. This is a wrestling bout. Otherwise Klart would simply shoot
you from there. No armour, no weapons, no magic, no other rules!" The morality of these men appeared quite mixed, some were neutral, some had a slight cruel side, but others including Klart, were black and ruthless in nature. Their leader was by no means the worst, but he was not a nice man. With the magic cast and their nature known he turned to the leader and shouted, "How stupid do you think I am? Shall I just pile up my valuables in a heap and strip myself of all my arms and armour, I think not." Not allowing the horseman to respond, Surya continued. "I had hoped to meet great men on my journey home, see great deeds and form new ties with my nation. But what do I find in the sands of the Red Dust, robbers, cutthroats, and thieves. I will waste no more time on you, stand aside brigand, I will not fight your man, nor pay your tribute. Stand aside I say or I will cut you all down and leave your corpses to rot slowly in the sand." The leader sat up a little straighter, and shook his head in some puzzlement. "But how else does one define a 'great man' than by the foes he bests and the horses he plunders? How did you come by the fancy swords and tin suit - I doubt you made them? Did you trade for them?" It was very clear that trade was a foreign concept, something done by other people. "No! You won them in battle - and now I have a desire to do the same." He gestured, and twenty-five bows went from 'resting on the string' to 'draw and loose' Surya spoke once more in the vain hope he could avert a fight. "You are correct a great man can be judged by his actions in combat, but also through leadership and judgement." Surya went on hoping that his past prowess in battle may sway the leader. "I have won some of my fancy weapons, that is true but I have also made others. My bow and shield were made by my own fair hand. The Sword of the Dead Legion I prised from the still warm hands of Hrothgault the Great Kin. The sword Desecrator I bound a great demon to and it's sister blade, Tormentor, was my prise for slaying the great wyrm Varkar Barduric." At this point Surya mounted his horse and said finally, "My tin armour is actually adamantine and was crafted over a thousand years ago, by the master smith Elverandil, for the great Elven warrior Asildur and I doubt that your men's arrows will puncture it." Before the leader and his men could react, Surya cast his magic once more and waves of negative energy washed over the nameless leader, Klart and may of the encircling men. As the brigands prepared to attack, Surya raised his hand and twisted it adroitly in the gestures of a spell. The brigand leader blinked, a little taken aback by the appearance of magic. Then he and the men around him sagged in their saddles, their strength drained by the spell. A moment later, a hail of arrows converged on Surya's position. The ones loosed by archers within the cone of the spell drooped limply to the ground before reaching him, but many of the others were accurately aimed and struck his form. In most cases, the ages-old armour of Asildur, forged by Elverandil and woven with spells, withstood them. Two, however, made lucky strikes inflicting small but stinging wounds on the King from the flank as he charged. Then he was among them, his twin swords crashing onto and through armour as he sheared through necks, bodies and limbs. Weapons were raised in defence and hewn through; blood sprayed in all directions. The swashbuckling brigand leader was cut down almost before he could register what had happened, and the brawler Klart, un-armoured, peeled from his bones like tomorrow's dinner, died with a peculiarly pathetic mewling sound. After a few moments, confronted with the obvious futility of fighting this inhuman death machine, some of the bandits tried to break free and flee, but there was no escape as the torrent of edges tore through the band. Finally, all was quiet, and Surya sat alone in a wasteland of dead men and horses. His own horse, stolid as it had been so far, had its' ears back and appeared on the verge of panic; but the only sound to be heard was the quiet dripping of blood from the two damned blades. Slowly Surya looked around. Had he meant to do that? He wasn't quite sure. Experienced in combat he was, but even for him the carnage he'd created was faintly horrifying - not least because of its' unexpectedness. He was sure he would have allowed the defeated brigands to flee… and yet, there they were, dead - very dead - around him. He struggled to separate what had been his own combat training and instincts, and what had been from somewhere else. Once Surya had recovered from the initial shock of the carnage he had wreaked upon these poor souls, he took stock. He had warned them and tried to find a peaceful solution to the situation, but they did not listen. What was done was done thought Surya, but it would be best if this incident was covered up. Surya spent a few moments searching the corpses for any signs of life or interesting items dropped during the conflict. He found none, only a small amount of money, a few personal effects, and mundane weapons. The brigand's horses had faired somewhat better than their masters. A few had been killed during the fight and many others had, not surprisingly, run away. But over twenty had remained. Surya had wished to trade for one of these mounts, now he had a small herd. But what could he do with them. He could not take all of them with him and if he released them in to the wild, they would surly die under the scorching desert sun. This was too good an opportunity to pass up, so Surya decided to brake from his epic journey and transport them home. The cavalry of Tellare, was still in its infancy, but with the introduction of these fine animals in to its breeding program would make a huge difference. Using his now considerable magic, Surya teleported himself and all the horses to Cyrn Weithaelin, a border fort built on the edge of the Desolation. Weithaelin was the home of the elite training school, the Cavalry Academy of New Tellare. This facility aimed to improve the cavalry of the Sledgehammer, a cadre of skilled horse-soldiers and breed a stock of war-horses that would hopefully one day rival those of the Red Dust. Cyrn Weithaelin nestled atop a steep and treacherous cliff. The main tower backed onto the ledge, and smaller towers connected by walls defended the approach. Surya appeared a few hundred yards from the fort and made his way slowly towards the castle. The weather in this part of New Tellare was some what different to that of the Red Dust Tract. Thought not snowing at present, recently fallen snow and ice lay on the ground and the drop in temperature took Surya's breath momentarily away. Surya approached the outer walls of the fortress only to find the gates shut. It was then a cry came from the walls, "Who approaches?" Surya stiffened in his saddle and in a most lordly fashion answered the soldier, "Your King, now open the gates." A look of surprise and horror came over the face of the guard, but the gates did not open immediately. A few moments later a second figure appeared and only then did the huge wooden gates start to creek open. Through the opening gates came an armoured figure that Surya recognised, the Commander of Cyrn Weithaelin, Torvir Erom. Clearly out of breath from his rapid descent from the ramparts above, he bowed and greeted his King. "Sire, my apologies, we were not expecting you." Surya tried to put the commander at his ease as he dismounted from his horse, stating his visit would only be a short one and he had no intention of inspecting the garrison. The commander escorted his king in to the castle followed by the small herd of horses. Torvir looked some what bemused at the site of the horses, but said nothing. Once inside Torvir offered refreshments, but Surya refused asking only to see Lashasvow Vlan, the Commandant of the Academy. Torvir immediately dispatched a runner to find him. As they waited, Torvir's eyes strayed to his King from time to time, and then away, as if Surya's appearance made him nervous. The tension grew, and the Last Tellaran began to feel a faint irritation with this. Normally he wouldn't have minded, but in the aftermath of the last few hours, that irritation itself made him nervous. Was it mere irritation? Was it really his irritation? Would it suddenly erupt to a bloody fury? Was his turmoil at his own irritation actually the cause of Torvir's nervousness? He took an iron grip of his emotions and forced the feeling away, eyeing the flags fluttering in the stiff cold breeze atop the towers, and the clean, clear sky above. Peace returned to him in a measure. After about ten minutes Lashasvow joined Surya and Torvir in the courtyard. The Commandant greeted Surya courteously, but it was plain to see that he was somewhat distracted at the sight of the twenty or so Red Dust horses. Surya smiled and said simply, "Use them wisely, I think they will give your breeding program a boost." The Commandant was clearly delighted at the gift and thanked his king for the opportunity to improve the quality of the horses they could produce. Surya asked for only one thing before he left, the loan of a horse. Not just any horse but his old Red Dust stallion. The creature was now too old for active service, but a short journey across half of Alair with his old master would be a walk in the park for it. Lashasvow took his leave from the King and went to prepare the mount. He returned shortly with the King's old warhorse. Surya mounted the beast, which was clearly pleased to see him. Surya bid Lashasvow and Torvir fairwell and rode out of the Cyrn Weithaelin and teleported back to the warmth of the Red Dust Tracts and the scene of the slaughter. Now satisfied there was nothing more of interest he summoned up a great gust of wind and covered the bodies with tons of sand. Once he was sure the scene was obliterated he mounted his horse and continued his journey. Surya never spoke of this incident again, but his thoughts dwelled upon it for many months after. As he rode his thoughts churned. Had he really done that? It didn't seem like the sort of thing he'd have done. A flash memory of a pitiful dying cry speared his mind and he shook his head. Had something controlled him? It didn't seem likely, and examining his mind carefully revealed no traces of meddling, magical or otherwise. The endless desert unrolled around Surya, and a greater desert unfolded within him. In the last few months he'd allied with and slain fiends, surely, but he'd spent years serving Kord, too, off and on. Many of his deeds had been noble and good; perhaps slightly due to Kord's benign influence. Perhaps… perhaps Orcus, the Prince of the Undead, damned and mad and random, had as much power to affect the soul of those who served him? Another memory flashed across his mind; learning the knightly arts of sword and chivalry from his father as a child. He closed his eyes and groaned. Thank Kord the old man was nearly a thousand years dead before he saw this. Perhaps fortunately, he met no other living being for ten days after
that. The shock had been considerable; but the Last Tellaran's mind was
made of strong stuff, and the awful memories slowly subsided.
Surya rode on into the city. It was market day, it seemed, and people bustled here and there, peasants herding scraggy sheep or clutching squawking chickens, guards and soldiers in the livery of the local lord, Surya searched his memory, and the name Gaval Greybear came into his mind, although unaccompanied by any more detail. Guiding his grizzled, seasoned old warrior of a horse though the streets without thought, his mind was turned almost totally inwards, watching itself. Life unfolded around him, busy, random, noisy, human. Through it he rode, like a wraith, somehow marked as different; but the unexpected rage of the battle in the Red Dust didn't surface again. Maybe, if he was simply aware of the danger, he could master it. He felt better than he had for days. Suddenly, his horse halted. The unexpected movement jolted him out of
his deep reverie, and he looked up. Standing in the street before him
was a squad of the liveried guards he'd seen before, armed and armoured
but not drawn. Slightly in front of them, regarding him frankly, was a
remarkably pretty human girl. She was tall and of average build, with
light, smooth skin and medium-length curly brown hair and laughing, intelligent
hazel eyes. A massive, double-ended axe, of all things, was slung across
her shoulders, and she was dressed in one of the most singular armours
Surya had seen in all his years of adventuring; a thigh-length shirt of
steel scales, every one enamelled in a different bright colour, producing
an effect like the plumage of a thoroughly ridiculous bird - or a warrior
used to being expected to be distinctive on the battlefield. With a slight nod of his head, Surya greeted the lady courteously and asked if there was anything I can do for her. He didn't think he had broken any of Dakau's laws, well not yet anyway. The woman, girl, bowed in her turn, and spoke. Her voice was strong and musical, and betrayed both noble birth, and the assurance of one used to command. "My father has asked me to meet you," she explained. "The gatekeepers reported a visitor of note approaching and sent word to the castle. By their description, we thought you to be Surya of Tellare; but this seemed so unlikely that I came to investigate personally. Unless I mistake my own guess, though, you are the northern king, am I right?" A bit surprised at first that his reputation had reached so far south, but then he thought his incursion in to the Fens of Korvux and assorted encounters with King Vardar Peacock, meant he was probably fairly well-known in Stryre now. Putting aside those thoughts from what seemed an age ago, he returned to the present and was now a little curious about the young axe carrying beauty standing before him, Surya dismounted from his horse and answered. "Your gatekeepers are to be commended, for I am he. May I know your lady's name?" "My name is Rheerindra, and I am the daughter of Baron Gaval and also his field commander these days, since my brother's disappearance. But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Will you accept an invitation to dinner?" "Gladly", Surya responded. He thought dining at the castle had to be more preferable to one of the local taverns, but he knew there would be a price to pay for the food. Surya continued, "I am saddened to hear of your loss my Lady, you must tell me more of his disappearance over dinner." Rheerindra smiled, clearly pleased with the success of her mission. "Please allow me to also offer our hospitality for your stay, unless you have other arrangements made?" she continued, with some tact. "Few nobles of the court bother to travel this far south, except younger sons looking to earn some glory in the border fights. They tend to have little conversation and don't usually survive long." Surya smiled back at the young woman and told her that he had not arranged accommodation in the city and would be happy to take up her offer. Surya passed the reins of his horse to one of the guards and the two walked through the city to the castle, closely followed by the honour guard. The two chatted politely as they strolled through the busy streets. Most of the people bowed as she passed them by and many wondered who the tall armoured stranger was that accompanied her. The castle in Dakau turned out to be something of a mixture. Clearly built during a period of relative peace, the central building had been designed for aesthetics and comfort rather than defence. This decision having been repented after the inevitable flare-up with the nomads across the border, fortified outworks had been added at a later date. The end result was reminiscent of a flower in a steel box; a delicate, rather romantic castle securely enclosed by dour, ruggedly practical outer walls and barbicans. The belated common sense approach had been extended to the city; a space of five hundred yards separated the moat from a waist-high 'wall' encircling the castle, and no part of the city itself came any closer than that wall. Within the curtain wall was another killing ground, as well as stables, smithy & other usual outbuildings. At the opposite side of the courtyard a splendid stair led up to the magnificent main doorway. Rheerindra led Surya up the stairs and in to the castle. Once inside he was shown to his quarters and left to freshen up before dining. The rooms were spacious, comfortable and richly decorated, a stark contrast to what Surya had endured over the last ten days in the desert. A bath had also been prepared for him and he took full advantage of the facility. He removed his weapons and armour and slid into the clean warm water. Now free of the accoutrements of war and with the aid of the pleasant aromas from the herbal scents that had been placed in the water, Surya began to relax. His thoughts drifted as he contemplated the paths in front of him. He was a warrior without equal and a fair king he thought, but what was he becoming? The dark powers that he now wielded could be used for good, but for how long could he control them? May be it was time to put away his trademark swords, but a warrior needed his weapons. He had hoped that the binding of Zabyrayt to Durandana would have produced a powerful weapon he could have wield instead of the two cursed blades he now carried, but he thought that was not to be. Devastator was a powerful blade indeed, but it was too unpredictable to be used reliably. How long would it be before it turned on some one close to him, no he would not use it, not unless he had too. Surya got out of the water and dried himself off. Fresh clothes had been
laid out for him, which he now put on. It appeared strange not to be clad
in his armour and for a moment Surya felt quite naked without his blades
by his side. He poured himself a glass of wine from a decanter that had
been left on the table and settled in to a comfortable chair. Now relaxing
further as the heavy ruby red wine took it's effect, his mind wondered
back to paths and weapons. He recalled Zero One and how it felt in his
hands, but the primal weapon of Law would have destroyed him utterly.
Ancorir, the Mace of Absolute Chaos remained safe, was that the weapon
for him? No, too much wine. Maybe, the king thought he could make a new
sword or even a match pair, his skill as a smith was now up to the task,
but he did not have the power to make it a great sword. No he would travel
to the great library housed in the Basilica in Narthal and carryout research
on the matter, there must be sword already made that would suit his purpose.
Several hours later Surya was awaken from his day dreaming by a knock at the door. A young servant girl entered the room and informed Surya that dinner was ready. The servant then guided the king through the castle. Inside the castle was furnished in a mixture of Gothic romanticism and plain efficiency. The plainer bits were much newer. Surya was led through a huge banqueting hall, large enough for a hundred knights to carouse in; but dinner was served in a much smaller hall, originally a music room according to Rheerindra. A single table was set for ten; the Baron, Rheerindra, Surya, the castellan Pentecost, the Baron's wizard Notlaw, the chamberlain Ruffic and his wife Coihlan, priestess of Morganna, and two of his knights, Talahan Bowhawk and Arenlos Mindshadow. The evening was pleasant, with witty and educated conversation flickering across the table. Baron Gaval seemed to set aside rank differences at the dinner table and all present spoke easily and comfortably. Surya's mood relaxed as the evening went on. His inner demons appeared to have sunk out of sight, and if his shadowed eyes bothered any of the company they were too polite to mention it. Finally, as the boards were removed and the company settled around the fire with goblets of excellent wine, the baron looked across to his guest. "Your majesty, it has been a pleasure and an honour to have you as our guest this night. A pleasure we would have sought anyway, even if we were not in need. However, as you already know, a diverting evening was not the only reason we invited you, I admit it freely. My son, Gavin, is missing, and fate seems to have brought you hear at the right moment to aid us in locating him, for Gavin, along with his elite guard, rode into the Fens of Korvux in pursuit of a kidnapped lady not three weeks ago. I told him that he was being a gallant fool, but you know what youths new-knighted can be like." "His horse returned three days ago, lamed, exhausted, mired and with blood staining his saddle." "Only four people ever went into the Fens and returned safely, you and your companions. The Blades of Wisdom and Mercy, I am told, launched a punitive expedition after that and most of them did not return." The baron's face looked older now, grey with sorrow; and Surya noticed tears glimmering in the Priestess's eyes. "My son is very dear to me, and to his sister. Will you venture to find what has become of him?" Silence descended on the room and all eyes fixed on the King of New Tellare. Before Surya gave the Baron the answer he wanted to hear, sighed deeply and then spoke of his experiences in the fens. Surya told all gathered that the Fens of Korvux was an impenetrable maze of shifting tussocks, mud and pools of thirsty quicksand - covering over two thousand square miles. Surya went on to tell of what he and his companions had found at the heart of the fens six years before. The twisted genius, Cullinan, one of the very first vampires, sired by Cain himself, the powerful vampire necromancer Torunn Yalistair and Tersoal the Lich-Necromancer. Surya told of their plot to raise an army of the dead and bring ruin to all of Alair. Fortunately their plot was foiled and the two vampires, Cullinan and Torunn Yalistair, were slain. Most gathered had heard the story before, but never from one of the eyewitnesses of the saga and not in so much horrific detail. The priestess Coihlan, now with tears rolling down her face, asked what had become of Tersoal. Surya told her, "Tersoal still remains at large, an extremely devious and dangerous creature." He then went on to inform her that necromancy was not a common pursuit for Liches, but Tersoal was an expert. He was also a master of concealment and misdirection, and so when Surya and his companions had entered the Necropolis of Arech and slew his accomplices, they did not find him. Neither did the Blades of Wisdom and Mercy when they purged the remainder of the Army of the Dead at the end of 1602, nor the Hollow Knights that Surya had sent after him in 1608. Surya turned to the Baron and said "I will go and look for your son, but if Tersoal has found a way back from the plane of Sarugost after we destroyed his portal, I greatly fear for his safety." He then turned to Rheerindra and said, "This Lich posses a threat to the whole of Alair and if he has returned he must be stopped, this is why I must go, and before you ask, I will go alone. But if your brother is still alive I will find him and bring him back." The relief of the Baron's informal court was palpable. If there was any hope for the return of his heir, it must lie in this fortuitous appearance of a genuine hero. Surya's declaration that he intended to travel alone, however, was not what Bowhawk and Mindshadow had been hoping to hear. The Baron noticed this, and glanced at the Tellaran. "Talahan here is Gavin's arms tutor, and Arenlos is my Master-at-Arms," he explained. "Both feel rather responsible for his loss. Talahan blames himself especially, though I could not fault his teaching. I had intended to offer you their services on this quest; even if only as guides." He smiled slightly. "No man should travel alone; companions are good for the soul." Suddenly, within Surya, the dragon of his inner darkness reared up for a brief instant. What does he know of my soul? it snarled. Is he hinting? Being snide? Laughing at me? Does he know…. Damn him …. Then his rational thoughts suppressed the dark urges and they were gone. Almost. Surya paused for a moment, allowing his raging thoughts to clear, before responding to the Baron's offer. "Very well, they should come. I would, as you say, be glad of their company." He turned to the two knights and said. "We go to a very dark place, if you have any doubts, please stay behind, I will not think ill of you." Neither warrior backed down and both pledged to bring back Gavin or die trying. Seeing their determination to help, Surya issued his first order and stated simply. "Gentlemen, we ride out tomorrow morning, be very prepared." That decided, the company broke up for the night. Coihlan paused as she passed the warrior. "Morganna's blessings on you, King of New Tellare," she said in a light voice. "Take them into the darkness to sustain you at need." Surya thanked her for the kind words and bid her farewell. Then she continued out of the hall ahead of her husband. Pentecost the Castellan also stopped as he was leaving. "You have a horse, and good gear from what I can see, Lord," he said, "but should you require anything for your quest the resources of Dakau castle are at your disposal." Surya thanked him and asked the Castellan to prepare Talahan and Arenlos for the horrors of the Necropolis of Arech and the undead that dwelt their. Last to leave was the axe-maiden Rheerindra. She, too smiled gratefully at the tall King. "I would ask to go too, but it would break Father's heart," she said regretfully. "Good fortune go with you." Surya spoke softy to her saying, "We may one day quest together, but not this time. Your farther may have already lost his son, I will not be responsible for the loss of his daughter as well, goodbye fair maiden." The pair then left the banqueting hall and headed for there rooms. Surya woke early the following morning and part took of a hearty breakfast in one of the dinning areas with many of the other castle guards and knights. Both Talahan and Arenlos joined the King and the three shared the meal in a jovial atmosphere. Once they had finished they parted briefly to prepare themselves for the quest ahead of them. About an hour later Surya, Talahan Bowhawk and Arenlos Moonshadow met up again, this time in the courtyard of the castle. They then rode out of Dakau, due north towards the Fens of Korvux. Although he privately expected the pair to be little more than deadweight, Surya was rather glad of them as guides, his previous foray into the Fens had been from the north, and he did not know this end of them. He remembered what they were like all right; and he was not disappointed. Gradually the fertile fields of southern Fedor were replaced by sloping grasslands as they entered the vast, shallow valley that the Fens occupied. Slowly the wholesome growth dwindled, and the ranker marsh vegetation replaced it. The ground grew softer, and the familiar noisome smell of the corrupt Fens became noticeable. They camped at the edge of the fens proper at the end of the first day, preferring to venture into them in daylight. The next morning, leading their horses on the uneven terrain, they moved on into the muck. Four days into the fens, the three reached a different area. The marsh sloped up slightly, and eroded, ancient stone flags emerged from the muck, forming a flat paved surface. Trees and marsh grass had forced their way through in places, buckling and twisting the surface, but the roadway, for that was what it was, remained. Half an hour's walking brought them in sight of cyclopean, tumbled, overgrown ruins. In style and decoration, they were reminiscent enough of the Necropolis of Arech to be the product of the same culture. This, though, was less funereal, and more like a part of a town. From the crest of the slight rise it occupied, they could see the edges. Jagged rubble showed where the chunk of city had been torn out of the plane of Sarugost and into the reality of Alair. When Tersoal had brought the Necropolis across, this piece must have come too. Mist coiled through the ruins, lending it an even more ominous aspect. The dark senses gifted to him by the Prince of the Undead informed him that there were undead, powerful undead, in the ruins ahead. Sensing the presence of the walking dead, Surya turned to his companions and suggested that they prepare for trouble. Talahan and Arenlos did as he suggested, but for a moment found they were unable to take their eyes off Surya as he transformed from their noble companion to the warrior king of legend. Surya drew Maranus from his quiver and prepared the mighty bow for use. Then he took a quiver of arrows and wove his magic in to them, before returning both to his quiver of holding. Surya then cast further protective spells upon himself before turning his attention to his trade mark weapons. He drew a longsword from its scabbard, the blade was made of dark grey adamantite, with a plain leather-bound steel hilt and a jewel of a disquieting purple colour set into the pommel - Tormentor. Surya looked the weapon over and wove more magic in to the blade. For a moment sparks of arcane magic crackled up and down the sharp edges of the sword and then they were gone. Surya then faintly touched an amulet around his neck. As he did so he felt the arcane magic surge through his body, making every muscle and sinew strain under their newly found strength. Finally the King of New Tellare adjusted the straps on his armour, not that they needed it. The armour hand crafted by Elverandil over a thousand years ago was like a second skin and needed no adjustments, but his warrior training would leave nothing to chance. Seeing the concern on his companion's faces, Surya tried to ally their fears saying, "Gentlemen I am on your side, you have no need to fear me. Shall we continue." Now ready, the warrior king continued up the roadway, closely followed by Talahan and Arenlos. He drew a second gold-hilted longsword, with a flaming skull forming the pommel from a night-black scabbard with a single silver skull just below the opening. The highly polished blade appeared to be already stained with blood, the sight of which did very little to ally the fears of those who followed him. The power of the two cursed blades was palpable to all and Surya fleetly thought on their future replacements and that he may never find a substitute to the feeling of power these weapons gave him. Slowly, the group edged closer to the muddy ruins, and the awareness of the walking dead increased with every step. Finally, the three reached the door. After some careful checking for obvious traps or dangers, Surya stepped across the threshold. With jarring suddenness a figure reared up to confront him, though he'd heard nothing. Hugely tall, taller than he, he recognized it with instant horror - a Jart! In horror he stepped backwards, but then realized that the monster was incorporeal. Some kind of undead almost certainly; a guess that was confirmed when it reached misty hands for him and then checked, bowed, and retreated inside. Gripping his weapons, the Last Tellaran stepped inside and stopped, aghast. Inside, a scene of horror was playing out, over and over, in ghastly silence. Misty and ghostly Jart pursued terrified elves across the chamber, seeming to cross miles of distance while remaining within the relatively small space. Their flickering, spectral forms lit the inside of the room with a pale light, twisting their features - daemonic and terrified - into weird shapes. Gradually Surya realized that among them were other forms. First, he saw solid forms - human forms. Rotting corpses, denied their natural rest, shambled in flight away from the immaterial Jarts, shrinking in obvious pain when caught up with. Some retained tatters of clothing, and armour; shreds of the livery of the Blades of Wisdom and Mercy were visible. Some of the solid forms, however, moved differently, and Surya's necrosenses did not mark them as undead, though they were undoubtedly close to death. Finally, in the middle, a misty form rose up from the centre of the room, inhuman and shapeless, dancing and piping in shapes and movements that distorted the mind to see as it twisted in foul arabesques at the centre of the dance. For dance it was; now, at last, to Surya came the memory of where he'd seen something like this before. The Dance of the Damned. Surya recalled may years ago encountering a similar phenomenon, a psychic resonance left in the Desolation by the suffering of the elves during the Invasion, takes the form of dancing, tortured elf shapes. Beside him, his two comrades lurched an unwilling step or two forwards towards the blur of whirling figures. Surya seeing the danger tried to stop them, but the two knights, half-entranced by the swirling dance, were quite difficult to stop from being drawn into the tomb. Finally, their heads appeared to clear and they stopped, shuddering. Surya then stood squarely in the middle of the doorway, and held up his necromantic blade. His voice boomed in the space beyond as he spoke in the hideous language of the Abyss. "You creatures of the undead - begone!" The power of his own magic, the force of his will, and the dark power of Orcus flowing through him radiated outwards, and the undead creatures turned to face him. Slowly, they bowed in submission, and turned to leave, vanishing into the mists of the fens beyond the islet. In moments, they were gone, leaving only the whorl of the light in the centre of the tomb, and three figures still helplessly capering around it. Three living figures, gaunt, dying, but alive. It was hard to tell in the dark, but one of them looked as if he might be the missing noble. Surya considered his options, and decided that caution was the best course of action. He did consider sending one of his comrades in to retrieve the three figures, but he knew he would only have to save them as well. Surya turn to one of the most powerful protective spells he had and cast it. The enchantment rendered all the magic he relied upon temporarily useless, but the spell would hopefully prevent him ending up in the Dance of the Dead for ever more. Surya drew the sword of the Dead Legion from its scabbard and moved across the tomb towards the dying creatures. The blade felt different in his hand, the magic was gone, but it was still a blade and in this mortals hands that was more than enough. Each walk into the fane of the dead was an effort of supreme will for Surya. Though his magic suppressed the magical effects of the Dance, it could not entirely suppress the moral and psychological effects. While the solid undead were gone, the immaterial dance continued unabated. His magic kept it ten feet away, but there was no way Surya could evade the sight of it outside his bubble of safety. Only one with his experience of walking the lower planes could have endured it. As it was, the horrors tore at the edges of his humanity and sanity, shaken already by recent events. By no means could he have been persuaded to approach the blind, insensate Piper at the Heart of the Dance. As he approached the light in the centre of the tomb dimmed slightly as the spell negated its necromantic effects. Surya could now see the creatures more clearly, they where human and alive, if only just. He did not recognise two of them, but the other one could well be the man they were searching for. Surya carried the half dead creatures, one at a time, across the tomb and out in to the cool night air. But in the end it was done. The three living victims lay on the mud outside the temple, unresponsive but alive. When they were all clear of the mausoleum he proceeded to remove his magical protection and began trying to cure the three dying men. Surya turned to Talahan and Arenlos hoping that they may have seen the inside of a church during their training, but no help was forthcoming on that front. Surya took out a staff, made of thick oak shod in gold, from his magic quiver and cast the healing magic upon the three poor souls. The healing restored their bodies, mainly from exhaustion, dehydration and malnutrition. Something remained wrong, though, none could be roused. What ever was still wrong with the three poor souls was beyond Surya's arts to cure. They needed the type of healing that could only be found in a priest and a powerful one at that. Surya asked Talahan and Arenlos if their church in Dakau had a cleric capable of the healing the baron's son needed, but they were unsure. After a brief discussion it was decided, though it was a longer journey, they would all head north to seek out the Arch Priest at Narthal. Delloch was the head priest of the order of Aderra in all Alair and if he could not help, the chances were that no one could. Also, thought Surya, it would give him the opportunity to search the vast libraries in the Basilica for information on the Dance. He hoped to find some way of destroying it for good. The three comrades put the wounded men on the horses and started the long walk out of the Fens of Korvux. Slowly, Surya and his two companions trudged across the Fens, each leading a horse laden with a survivor. All three were coated in muck by the end of the first day, and Surya's generous use of the Clean cantrip each evening earned him two undying friendships. Each night the comrades in arms stopped and made camp. After seeing to the horses and himself, Surya looked of the poor soul that they had ripped from a Dance of the Dammed. Their condition had not changed, all three were in a deep catatonic state which Surya could not raise them from. The three rescued men showed little change. Their bodies reacted normally, chewing and swallowing when fed, breathing shallowly; but it was all autonomic and none showed any signs of sentience at all. Surya thought that one of the creatures was most likely the Baron's son, but who were the other two. Was it worth finding out, he thought, they would probably not survive this ordeal, it was a miracle they were still breathing. One was clearly a knight of Blades of Wisdom and Mercy, but who was the other. His armour was of a strange design, though similar to the chain mail common in Alair, it seemed foreign in manufacture. His clothing, thought faded bore the symbol of a church perhaps, but not one Surya was familiar with. The symbol was that of a sword, which Surya could relate too as he believed himself to be the finest blade in all Alair. The man himself was tall, Surya's height or more, although even when fed up he'd be lighter. His face was handsome and somehow honest and trustworthy, though lean with hunger. Lines of sorrow, pain and loss threw it into sharp relief. The hair, matted and filthy, would probably be a dark brown streaked with grey once clean, for the stranger was at least twice Surya's age. Still thinking of swords Surya turned his attention to the weapons the knight was still carrying, no surprise to see a longsword in it scabbard. Surya drew the weapon carefully from it home and but was disappointed to find only the remains of what may once have been a mighty weapon. His Search for a new blade would have to go on. On a whim one evening, Talahan laid the hilt of his sword in the tall stranger's hand. The hand closed slowly, forming a warrior's grip from reflexes trained into flesh and bone by endless training. That, however, was all. That night, Surya unrolled his bedroll next to the mystery knight, whom he'd adopted as his particular charge. Arenlos was first on watch, so Surya doffed his armour and laid his swords close to hand. By chance, he laid Tormentor quite close to the stranger. For the first time, the man showed a reaction, twisting and flinching like a man in a nightmare, his face troubled though still unlit by consciousness. Swiftly, Surya moved the damnéd weapon, suspecting he might have revealed something about his charge. The knight subsided. Fortunately, Talahan was already asleep and Arenlos hadn't noticed. After three days of slogging through the misty swamps, the three finally emerged onto solid ground north-west of where they'd gone in. Another two hours took them to the road leading to Loton. At the first village they came to, Arenlos used his rank and some gold to enlist a healthy young farmhand to ride a draught-horse around the edge of the fens to Dakau, to carry the news of the Baron's son's rescue to the Baron and his feisty daughter. The details of his condition were left unclear, and the message merely said the party was headed to Narthal to seek healing for the three survivors. Two days took them to Loton, a small and sleepy town, in which they purchased extra horses and from which they cut off across country to Emrys rather than dogleg through Farrox, saving two days from the five that that would have taken. From Emrys, another two days' ride on the road brought them to the capital seven days after stepping out of the Fens of Korvux. Their arrival at the Basilica of Narthal was hardly magnificent. Travel-stained and road weary, the three did not correspond to what the guards at the gate were accustomed to admitting. Arenlos and Talahan were, however, knights in service to a Stryran nobleman, and this alone was enough to get them inside at least. Once in, Surya located a passing monk and co-opted him to deliver a message to the Archpriest announcing his own presence. This was effective as within thirty minutes a group of healer-priests and brawny lay brothers appeared and whisked the rescued victims of the Dance to the Basilica's infirmary. A couple more priests guided Surya, Arenlos and Talaran to a small suite of rooms to clean up and refresh themselves. After around an hour, a message was brought to them that the Archpriest would be pleased to see them at their convenience. The three followed the man deep into the Inner Basilica to a small, informal audience room, where they found the High Priest of Aderra on Alair waiting for them with two other priests. He greeted Surya warmly, and if the increasing signs of the effects of his extraplanar adventures were perceptible he made no comment on them. He then greeted each of the knights in turn, deftly putting them at their ease and displaying at least a working knowledge of their lord and the situation in Dakau. Then he introduced the other attendees. One was Brother Hospitallar, the chief healer of the Basilica's infirmary, and the other Surya at least needed no introduction to, Brother Armourer, the bluff and robust paladin who equipped and trained the Church's militant arms. He remembered Surya clearly, and his weapons, and shook the King's hand firmly before gazing deep into his eyes for a long moment. He made no comment, but took his seat again. The Archpriest then had Surya tell the story of what had happened in the Fens, up to the rescue of the three men. Brother Hospitaller then confirmed what Surya had suspected. All three were alive, and with proper care and a little magic their bodies would recover rapidly. Their souls, however, were another matter. They were gone. Not gone in the manner of death, nor consumed as they would be by a vampire, but relocated, probably imprisoned. Magic could keep the bodies alive for the rest of their natural span, but without their souls they would never recover. Magic could also track those souls, however. A tiny fragment remained, and this was linked to the majority. With the aid of Brother Diviner, Hospitaller had tracked the souls down to the plane of Carceri, prison of the lower planes. From there they could be retrieved, but only manually. It would take a brave planewalker to retrieve them. At this point all eyes fell on the King of New Tellare. Surya did his best to look shocked that they would consider him to be the right man for the job. But he knew he was the only man here capable of even trying. Surya had heard very little of Carceri, other than was home to the Revolutionary League, a group of anarchists who believe that social order and man-made laws are inherently corrupt and must be destroyed, though amusingly none of their members could agree on what, if anything, should replace them. The Bastion of Lost Hope was their fortress stronghold, and Surya had no wish to debate law and order with these creatures. Surya smiled and agreed to look into the matter. He asked if he could use the libraries in the Basilica to research the plane and asked permission to look in to the identity of the unknown warrior. The identities of the other two had been confirmed, one was Gavin, Baron Gaval's son and the other was a knight of The Blades of Wisdom and Mercy. Brother Librarian was at this moment looking through the church records for his name and a rider had been despatch to the Blades' headquarters in the fortress Lorindel. The Arch Priest agreed to Surya's request and he was led in to the vast
libraries of the church. The keeper of the archives in the Basilica of
Aderra was one Brother Librarian, who was surrounded by books and manuscripts
when Surya approached. The old monk was now very deaf and did not notice
the King's approach. Then with a start he jumped up from his seat when
he realised the King of New Tellare was standing by his side. "I
do wish you would not do that," he said in is now familiar crotchety
manner. He pointed to another monk working a few feet away and said, "I
am far to busy to help you right now, but Brother Joram will aid you in
your research. Surya had met this quiet monk before and after a brief
re-introduction they began their work. Surya looked up from the books and spoke to Joram, "Not a very pleasant place then, fancy coming along." The monk shook his head and said quietly, "I'll stick to my books and leave plane hopping to those more suited." The rescue of these poor souls was not going to be easy, thought Surya to himself. The plane was vast, infinite in fact, and he did not even know who's souls he was rescuing, never mind from what or where. It was at this point Surya turned his thoughts to the unknown warriors belongings. They had been placed on another table in the library by one of the monks and Surya started to examine the items. All of the cloths and other perishable items had rotted, indicating that this knight had been trapped in the Dance for many hundreds of years. But his body hand not aged, strange thought Surya, perhaps he had lay somewhere else for all this time and had being drawn into the Dance of the Dammed only recently. There was no clues here to the man's origins so the king looked over the items that had not perished. Surya cast an incantation over the items and was unsurprised to find all showed signs of magic, in fact some of the items were very powerful indeed. The dagger and the ring were similar to common magical items one could buy at most purveyors of enchanted items. The chain armour and large metal shield were very well made indeed, but again nothing set them apart from equipment to be found on any knight of renown. Surya did notice that the symbol he had seen on the knight's clothing was repeated on his shield and his helm. He now turned his attention to the helmet, it was of a plain design without the embellishments of many he had seen. It bore the symbol of a sword and under Surya's magical interrogation revealed it's name, the Helm of Tyr. The magic that emanated from the item appeared clerical in nature and not very powerful. There was a similar story to the holy symbol, the Cross of Amlwch, may be they needed to be worn by a worshiper to access their powers. There seemed to be more to them than appeared to Surya. That left only the sword, or what was left of it. There was still some magic present in the pieces, but what ever had broken the weapon had almost completely destroyed it. Surya cleared all the other items from the table and focused on the sword. It had been broken about half way down the blade, as if someone had stood upon it. There were two large pieces and a collection of smaller shards which Surya pieced together. He was quite surprised that it appeared complete and when he placed the last shard in place the nature of the magic emanating from it changed. A thought then struck Surya and he asked Joram if there was a forge in the Basilica. The monk told him that Brother Armourer was the best person to ask and he was sent for.
It was at this point that the usually very quiet Brother Joram came rushing into the forge, he was so excited he could hardly get his words out. He was brandishing an old book and shouting "I've found him, I've found him." Both men turned towards the almost raving monk and asked in unison, "Found who?" Now a bit calmer Joram answered, holding up the book, as he did so. "The unknown knight, he's in this tale. The symbol, the items we have in the library and if that is one of the Swords of the.." Surya finished the sentence for the monk, as he had gleaned its name from the incantation he had just cast, "…Azimuth." Feeling quite excited, Surya put aside his tiredness and looked through the book as the brother summarised his findings. The book was very old, over a thousand years old and unfortunately very few of its pages remained readable between its age worn covers. It had come in to the possession of the library many centuries ago and was believed to be a fable as there were no other recorded books or manuscripts referencing the peoples, places, or gods named in it. The story was written by a mad monk called Flavius, who in this tale was a squire to a legendary knight of the god Tyr. The story gave details of the Swords of the Azimuth, a longsword, a bastard sword and a great sword. When brought together and wielded by the chosen, they would defeat the Dark Lord. Unfortunately the tale ended rather badly, for the knight fell at the hands of the Dark Lord, who smashed the sword and covered the world in darkness. Surya now believed he knew the name of the unknown warrior, Geriant, but how would he find his soul and that of the other two Gavin and Carrow?. Now very tired, he retired to his quarters and gave some thought to how he could locate these souls, but the past two days now caught up with the king and he slept. The next morning, Surya was brought a message summoning him to Archpriest Delloch's presence. When he arrived, he found Brother Diviner, Joram and the two knights from Dakau already there. Delloch brought the meeting to order with practiced efficiency and cleared his throat. "The fate of the three unfortunates you brought to us has been investigated. We now know who they are, and what has become of them. When mortals are drawn into the Dance, their souls are sundered, and the greater part abducted to the oubliette of the lower planes, Carceri." Delloch shook his head. "This is a vile trick; it means that when the body finally dies, the bulk of the soul is in the lower planes… and is trapped there, unable to escape even in death." He nodded to Brother Diviner, who stood. "Because of the link between the soul and the fragment left behind, locating the stolen part is easy. I feel the authors of this damnation approve of this as an added cruelty. The souls trapped by this Dance are imprisoned on Carceri, on the layer Porphatys, on the Black Barque." Brother Diviner paused for a moment and then continued, "This vessel is a supernatural prison hulk where all the lower planes consign their most undesirable elements. It drifts eternally on the acid oceans of Porphatys, untracable, untargetable. Teleport and Plane Shift will not reach it; nine in ten chances will miss it and plunge you into the Acid Sea and no hero would survive that." "Your only means of reaching it would be to enter the plane on, reasonably, dry land at Port Braxis, and take passage on the Ship of One Hundred. That is known to dock with the Black Barque at intervals. Once aboard the Barque, you will need to negotiate or fight your way past the crew, and free the souls we seek. This has to be done at touching range, using a Miracle spell." Delloch spoke again. "It's incredibly dangerous and difficult," he said, "but if you are to complete the quest of rescuing the na-Baron of Dakau and the two knights trapped with him, it's the only way to do it. You will need to take a priest with you, to unbind the souls when you reach them. I have one in mind. I believe your companions from the Fens feel themselves duty-bound to accompany you." The mood in the room was now quite sombre, Surya could see anxiety in the eyes of his two companions from the Fens. This was clearly beyond anything they had done before and they had every right to feel anxious. Surya wondered which poor priest had drawn the unfortunate task of accompanying them. The priest would not only have to face the horrors of the lower planes, but would have to put up with him also. Shortly afterwards the meeting broke up and all went their separate ways to prepare. Surya caught up with Delloch in one of the corridors and asked if he could speak candidly about the mission. Delloch could see Surya's concerns and said, "I know you wish to go alone, but you can't free the souls yourself, you need a priest." Surya answered the cleric, "Are these three souls that important to risk one of your own brothers, to rescue a reckless noble, an unfortunate knight of Aderra and an unknown warrior?" Delloch stopped in the corridor and turned to the king, "All three may have a part in the future of this land, who knows what the next Baron of Dakau will achieve or what Geriant will become. Carrow may even save your life or soul one day, nobody knows." Delloch paused for a moment and continued, "As for Arenlos and Talaran this will be the making of them and I have no fears for the priest I send with you. He has faced towering perils in the past. I expect him by tomorrow morning, go and prepare yourself, I wish you to leave as soon as possible there is only a limited time we can keep Gavin, Geriant and Carrow's bodies alive." With that the two parted and Surya made his way to the library to prepare for the task ahead. Arenlos and Talaran had already arrived ahead of the king and with brother Joram's aid collected together as many books and manuscript as they could find on the Ship of One Hundred, Black Barque and Port Braxis. Working together they soon amassed much information on the places they must travel to too redeem the trapped souls. Port Braxis, according to an account dated seventy years ago, was the centre of diabolic capitalism. Devils have established a semi-permanent settlement here, from which scarred scows, crewed by miserable soul shells, sail across the Porphatys' oceans to harvest the acid ice. While the devils are immune to acid, the petitioners are not, and they suffer constant agonies. Surya turned to the two knights as he finished reading out the account, "I think we will need some sort of protection from the sea, we must ask Brother Armourer to take a look in the aumbrie." Shortly afterwards a runner was despatched to the armoury and returned later with the help Surya needed. Three rings which each of the men took and wore. They continued their search for information and found a very detailed account of the ship that they must take passage upon to reach the Black Barque. The vessel which rode the cold swells of Porphatys's seas, was called the Ship of One Hundred, though in some accounts it is referred to as the White Caravel. It appears as a ghost-white caravel unmanned by any visible crew. It wends between the islets of many orbs, somehow disappearing on one orb and appearing on another, picking up stranded souls and other travellers who are brave, or foolish, enough to take passage. Passengers soon discover that apparently no one moves on board the craft. The lower deck and hold are stuffed with exactly one hundred unadorned stone sarcophagi. No one has ever successfully opened a sarcophagus and lived to tell the tale. Any time this has been tried, some unrecorded calamity devours all creatures currently on board, and the next time the ship puts in at a new port it is utterly empty of life. Stories have it that the ship seeks to deliver its terrible cargo, but it waits for the end times to do so. Between the "cleansings" that occur when the curious try to open a sarcophagus, travellers, mostly petitioners, demons, or other creatures, infest the ship. Some make it their temporary home, happy to move from place to place by whatever mysterious force steers the ship. These denizens take a very dim view of visitors who want to open a sarcophagus. Little more was available on the Black Barque. No soul imprisoned there has ever escaped. Fear colours every mention of it, fear of the ship, fear of the crew, fear of the inmates. Joram looked up at Surya. "Best place to find out more would be Sigil," he commented. "Get the straight dark of it, cutter, as they say there." Surya agreed with him, but stated they did not have the time. Their research took most of the day and it became quite obvious that Talahan and Arenlos had never been off Alair before. They took the opportunity of quizzing Surya about his planar wanderings. Though rather daunted by the description of Carceri, they have no intention of backing out, they have given their word to rescue Lord Gavin and will pursue this quest to the death. Let hope its not theirs, thought Surya. Surya was concerned that the prison may not be accessible by his planer magic, so needed to know if they could get on and off the plane itself using it. He discovered that nothing arcane or religious interfered with teleport mechanically. The main problems here were simply navigational. Blinding, driving, acidic snow over storm-tossed acid seas in near darkness lit from below make hitting a boat you've never been to with teleport spell pretty near impossible. The Black Barque though, was a special case, it is unplottable, which meaning he can not teleport to it even if you know where it is. Going ship-to-shore is easier, because most of the 'land' doesn't move, other than to slowly dissolve. Portals to get to Carceri were ten-a-penny, especially from Sigil and the lower planes. Portals to get off Carceri were nearly non-existent; it was prison after all. There also did not appear to be anything to stop Surya opening a magical gate to Carceri or even using the incantation of plane shift, other than whatever creatures are acting as jailors in the region. They all worked long into the night and midnight they all believed they had enough information to at least attempt a rescue. All agreed that the best cause of action was, as Delloch had suggested earlier that day, to head to Port Braxis and take passage on the Ship of One Hundred to the Black Barque. They all retired to their quarter for what was likely to be the best night's sleep they would have for a while. Surya before retiring left the Basilica and rode out of Narthal. About a mile outside the confines of the city walls he tethered his mount and called for his nightmare. Ten minutes later a huge black horse, flames wreathing from its hooves, trail and nostrils stood before him. The fiend greeted his master and asked what he wished of him. Surya told Saethor to travel to Carceri and meet him there. Moments later the beast was gone and Surya returned to the city and to his bed. The next morning, after a comforting breakfast, the priests of Aderra believed in feeding the brain properly, Surya was discussing the finer points of the expedition with Talahan and Arenlos when the door opened and Archpriest Delloch stepped in, a mailed priest at his heels. The Archpriest lifted a hand in benediction, and turned slightly to allow the newcomer to step forwards. "I have brought you the last member of your team," he said. Surya's gaze was met by a slightly battered but still boyish face, topped with a shock of unruly sandy hair and wearing a mocking grin. Mail blessed by Aderra sheathed his limbs, strengthened by metal plates on his arms and legs. The mace at his hip declared him a fighting cleric and the look in his eyes hinted that he was not afraid to take a few risks in a good cause; but Surya knew this already, because they had met before. It was Sigred of Narthal. Delloch introduced the priest to all, but Surya needed no introduction as the two had worked together many times before. They greeted each warmly and all shared a few brief words before leaving on the journey. Surya stepped outside and while the others watched began his incantation which would open a gate to Port Braxis on the plane of Porphatys. The gate opened and all four stepped through to another world, a world very different to the one they had just left. They had arrived safety inside a walled city, a city build on the slopes of a hill. The place seemed very strange to those unfamiliar with plane walking, for there was no sun. The land was lit somehow from below, giving an eerie red glow to all around. To make things worse it was snowing, not the nice white stuff of wintertime in Alair, but rank acidic sleet that seem to erode everything it settled on. There were major buildings and roads evident here, also vast pieces of equipment that which gave the city a very industrial feel. The four mortals started to explore the city, they avoided entering any of the buildings and stayed close to the city walls. Fiends patrolled the walls, but paid no attention to the humans. The city wall curved round towards the sea and soon they could see jetties, jutting out in to the water. Moored at the jetties were many dilapidated craft, all appeared to be rotting under the relentless assault of the acid sea and snow. There were Devils of all kinds everywhere and in amongst them were Lemures, mindless tormented souls. Leaving his three companions in the relative safety by the walls, Surya
approached the docks. He marched up one of the jetties and approached
a group of eight Barbed Devils. At first they did not appear to notice
the human standing Surya now drew his blades and within a blink of an eye the Devil lay dead, cleaved into. Its black blood spilled on to the pier and bubbled as it mixed with the snow. The Devil's mood changed very quickly after this and they now became very compliant to Surya's questioning. But it transpired that they did not know when the ship he sort would dock again. Surya asked if they knew of anywhere he could stay while he waited for the ship and they directed him to a tower situated on the east side of the city. Surya left the pier, collected his comrades and made his way towards the tower the Devils had suggested he might find lodgings. The building was huge, situated very close to the city walls. The structure had a gothic look to it and like most of the structures here bore signs of decay from the constant erosion of the acid. There was a door on the ground floor which Surya pushed open and went inside, followed by the other three. Inside was a large square room, tables and chairs were dotted around, but the room was dominated by a large wooden desk. Behind the desk was a humanoid creature, his dress was rather outlandish, but Surya had seen stranger. He sported a top hat and a monocle and once they were all indoors greeted them all very politely, welcoming the four travellers to his establishment. "Gentlemen welcome. My name is Standish, my establishment is here to cater for plane walkers with more discerning tastes. What can I do for you today?" Surya told him they needed four rooms, with a sea view." Standish asked how long they would need them for. Surya told him that they would be here until the Ship of the One Hundred docked. "Excellent, may I suggest the forth floor then. Your rooms will be a gold piece each per day and all meals are included in the price." Surya passed him a pouch containing far more than would be needed and Standish seemed pleased. The proprietor told him that there were other guests on the same floor, two Cambions and a Vampire and he hoped that would not be a problem, looking at the priest. Surya assured Standish that was fine, it might even be fun he thought to himself. The proprietor led them up the stairs to the forth floor and to there rooms. After a brief inspection of the rooms Surya pointed out to Standish that one of the rooms was in need of some repair and he promised to get it restored when he could find available Lemures to fix it with. The four settled into there rooms for what could be a long wait for the
Ship of the One Hundred. The rooms were relatively comfortable and the
four occupied their time reading and talking. The two knights quizzed
Surya on his many adventures and soon realised they were in the presents
of a true hero and saviour of Alair. Thought the king did not boast about
his exploits, they both now knew that if it was not for Surya's actions
the world of Alair would be a very different place. Most of Alair had
heard of the demise of the great dragon, but the defeat of the Shadowkami
and the failed Kingmaker plot had almost gone unnoticed by most of the
denizens of Alair. Shortly after they had started their meal, the two half fiends entered the room. These half-human offspring of some demon or other were almost indistinguishable from other humans, but Surya's experiences revealed them for what they were. The king nodded in acknowledgement as they passed his table. Golotha and Valerion paused momentarily before continuing to their table. Golotha politely acknowledge Surya and his companions, but Valerion was having nothing to do with them. He stared at the priest, hatred in is eyes saying, "Bloody do gooders." He continued to his table mustering and cursing under his breath. Surya then noticed that while they had being somewhat distracted with the entrance of the fiends, the other table was now occupied. Torghania was the most beautiful creature they had ever seen, her had long red hair and pale skin. She was immaculately dressed all in black and oozed charisma. She looked over at the party of humans, her gaze rested for a moment on that of the King of New Tellare and he could sense the power within her. This was no ordinary woman, nor was it an ordinary vampire and Surya had no intention of getting involved with her. After Surya had finished his meal, he excused himself from his comrades and approached the table where the two Cambions sat. He introduced himself and asked if he could join them, Golotha gestured for him to sit. Surya asked if they knew when the Ship of the One Hundred was to dock in Port Braxis next. Valerion refused to even speak to the human, he just through the occasional insult in to the conversation. On the other hand Golotha was quite keen to talk. He informed Surya that the ship was due to dock in four days. He asked the demon why they were embarking on the ship and was told that they planned to join the River Styx and sail down it. The Ship of the One Hundred was just a means of crossing the plane. Golotha asked the human why Surya and his comrades wished to board the ship, the king informed him that they wished to make a prison visit. The fiend clearly knew what Surya implied and stated, "A dangerous business freeing prisoners, I am told that you must be more powerful than the incarcerator to escape this world." A rapport was forming between the fiend and the human and over the next few days they spoke many times. Surya spoke of his adventures in the Blood Wars and Golotha was clearly impressed by the human. Though he did question the company he kept, as did Valerion, who threaten to have his revenge on humanity by invading Alair. Surya suggested that if he did, could he let him know, so it could be there to lead his worlds defence. This did not go down well and Valerion did not speak to him for the rest of there stay. Later that day Standish knocked at Surya's door and informed him that there was a huge nightmare outside asking for him by name. Surya went down immediately to greet Saethor. The creature greeted his master, clearly not bothered by the acid snow sizzling on his black skin, and asked his bidding. Surya told him that they were to take passage on board the Ship of the One Hundred and he should stay nearby should he be needed. In the mean time he should search out the ship, if that were possible. With that, the mighty creature flew off in to the dark grey skies out to sea. Surya returned back inside, rather please to be indoors once again. The days passed fairly uneventfully, except for a rather unfortunate incident on the third night of their stay. It was about midnight when all four were awoken by screaming coming from the unoccupied forth room. Surya and his comrades grabbed the nearest available weapons and went to investigate. Surya opened the door to the room and was met by a most disturbing sight. In the room were four Devils repairing the damage to the leaking walls, not with the usual building materials you would expect, but with the bodies of the mindless Lemures. This sight was too much for Arenlos and Talaran and they left the room and returned to their beds, not that they got much sleep that night. Surya closed the door to the room and left the Devils to their work and the Lemures to their screaming.
Surya climbed up the gang plank and onto the vessel. The first sight that greeted Surya was a stone sarcophagus, then another and another. They were littered all around the deck, here, there and every where. All were about the same size, large enough for a man, but of every conceivable type and design. The only thing they appeared to have in common was that they seemed to invite you to open them. Surya had been warned though, that was not going to happen on his watch - he hoped. The four companions found a spot on the deck and made themselves comfortable. There were many other passengers, humans, devils and even two Celestials. Seven hours later, and still without any sign of a crew, the Ship of the One Hundred left Port Braxis for its next destination - where ever that may be. As the tattered jetties of Port Braxis fell behind the ship, Surya and Sigred looked around at their fellow passengers. They were, to say the least, a mixed bunch. A gaunt, thin human, his lower face enwrapped in a peculiar mask that looked more like a reptilian creature than an artefact introduced himself as Zanlarg of Helm. Sorcery glittered across his clothes and possessions, and through the entire trip, they never saw him sit down or leave his feet; he remained standing as though nailed to the deck, whatever the angle of the vessel. Three humans and a half-orc, seated docilely and staring with empty eyes across the deck as their Neogi masters clicked back and forth nearby, discussing their vile business. These eyed Surya and Sigred greedily, but decided against attempting to add them to their slave coffle. Instead, they introduced themselves as Celezog and Jumar, all the while eyeing the pair and their possessions covetously. A hulking pit fiend, attended by seven of each of seven breeds of devil, squatted in grim silence among the stone sarcophagi, surrounded by roiling smoke. Even so, his head was quite close to the rigging of the white sails. He spoke to no-one, and his entourage were entirely dedicated to serving his every whim. Everyone else gave his chosen area a wide berth. As far as possible from him were two Devae, high up on the poop deck, their wings wrapped around themselves, their swords drawn and resting within easy reach of their hands. Around them, the corpselight of Porphatys was pushed back and a cleaner, more wholesome light fell on things and people who drew near. Several humans were gathered around them, not travelling with the celestials but comforted and reassured by the aura they shed. They nodded to Surya and Sigred when they approached. One spoke; "Greetings, Planewalkers," it said. "I am Thalenrath and this is Rihiku; we are of the train of Ehlonna. Peace be with you as you travel these dark seas." Nearby, a stocky human with an unshaven face stood, watching the new arrivals settle in. He was armoured in well-worn light armour and carried three short swords. He offered Surya a hand. "I am Venmar Skyroot, Venmar of the Three Swords, and you I think I have heard of. Are you that mortal who fights for the Abyss in the Eternal Struggle? They say you are a King, though that seems strange; what King would forsake a realm to suffer and bleed for the glory of fiends? Still, well met. I look forward to hearing your tale!" Thalenrath smiled, and most of those gathered around him smiled too, involuntarily, as the general feeling of well-being his expression generated radiated outwards. "It may be a long voyage for some of us," he said in his deep, musical voice. "Stories and reminiscences would be welcome." Surya kept his distance from the devils and the Neogi, but engaged with the Celestials and Zanlarg of Helm asking them what had brought their kind to this hell hole. Zanlarg wheezed in a manner that might have been a laugh. Once. "My kind?" he rasped. "an apposite question. My thy-la - you would probably say 'brother' - Uati Ginkar was banished here by the demon Hammerwrack - curses a thousand be upon his name! I have searched the layers of this plane for twenty rinla seeking him. Only death will stop me." He coughed a couple of times. "My body was broken, as you see, in the struggle, but I learned where he is imprisoned; another vessel of this strange ocean, known I am told as the Black Barque." Venmar Skyroot, Venmar of the Three Swords, intrigued Surya, whether
it was the swords, his stories or the beguiling songs, he was not sure.
Talahan Bowhawk and Arenlos Moonshadow seemed much happier in his presence.
Surya passed the time on the Ship of the One Hundred listing to his songs
and quizzing him on the swords. Surya was not able to put his stories
to music as Venmar had, but when you had done what he had done, there
was no tune worthy. All that listened to the king's tales were amazed
at what had been achieved in such a short time. The death of the Great
Worm, the foiling of the Kingmaker, preventing Cain from returning, the
giving up of the primeval weapon and other epic tales were told. Surya
made sure he tailored his story telling to the audience, he did not mention
his escapades in the Blood War when the priest or the celestials were
listening. The celestials, it emerged, were very cagey about their reasons for being aboard. Venmar had mentioned that they'd boarded the same time the pit fiend had, and had carefully maintained their distance from him while at the same time never quite moving out of sight of him. The mighty angels were not to be drawn on this, but observing them Surya could see that the bard was quite right. Despite the gulfs between the ideologies and kinds of the creatures aboard the Caravel, the voyage went on peaceably enough for several days. The terrible fiend kept arrogantly aloof, occasionally sending his minions here and there. The others lived, ate, slept and passed the time variously. On the fifth day, one of Surya's myriad eyes was caught by a difference in the vast dark ocean around them. Something had moved out there, rather than just drifting past. In a moment it was gone, but the King's battle-honed instincts were screaming. Something was wrong. A few swift words were enough to alert his shipmates. Plane walkers all, they were experienced enough to know when the signs were bad. Sure enough, a few moments later, with a splash and spray of acid 'water', a monstrous mixture of tentacles, breathing tubes and teeth hurled itself at the ship, landing with a splatter on the deck near Thalenrath. It lashed out at him, and the Deva cried in pain and went down, blood scattering across the white decking. Surya was the first of all the passengers to act, he summoned up his magic and pointed his finger at the colossal creature's mouth and a glowing, pea-sized bead streaked across the blood splattered white deck. The tiny bead, unnoticed by the Kraken, hit its target and lay inside the creature's mouth. With his magic in place, Surya reached inside his quiver and drew out his great bow. Quickly stringing the weapon, he ran to the aide of the fallen celestial. Surya stood over the stricken angel and let lose a volley of arrows from Maranus. The tiny bead of the fireball lurked in the monster's maw as it heaved itself, gasping and whistling through its' breathing tubes, across the deck towards the rest of the passengers. It was nearly within reach of Venmar when, with a dull boom, the spell ignited. There was a wet and very messy explosion, and bits of part-cooked creature bounced across the white decking, accompanied by a strangely appetizing smell of fried fish. For a moment, everyone's shoulders sagged a little in relief, and then there was no more time for thought, as dozens of the salty monstrosities came hurtling across the rail and onto the deck. Yells and screams rang out as the passengers defended themselves, each in their own way. Surya managed to set his armoured feet either side of the fallen angel, reflecting for an instant the irony of this in light of his recent allegiances. Then he loosed a volley of arrows directly into the front - there was no way whatever was nearest to him could be called a face - of the erosikraken hurtling towards him. The four shafts drove into its slimy form and disappeared, the sheer force of their propulsion enough to deflect the corpse away from Surya to splatter against the rail. As well as slaying the creature, however, the arrows released a large quantity of body fluids from inside it. The Last Tellaran could have evaded them completely, but the helpless outsider sprawled at his feet tugged at his conscience, and he simply swerved his upper body, leaving his feet planted on the deck. Most of the gout of acid missed him, but some splashed on his arm. His armour appeared unaffected, but a few drops of the stuff seeped through the joints of it and reached through to his skin. It burned; burned as the fires of the Abyss never had. Only for a moment, and then it was gone. Surya was astounded; his armour was usually proof against this sort of thing, and leaving that aside the ring given him the priests of Aderra must have reduced the power of the acid enormously; and it still hurt?! How powerful was the acid in its' native form? The answer was audible even as he wondered. Screams and curses in half-a-dozen languages from behind him told of the damage being suffered by the passengers of the White Caravel. Glancing around with the Robe of Eyes, he saw the demons, in order of power, forming a ring around the Pit Fiend, defending it with their lives and not looking at all pleased about it. Several of them were already dead; another bad sign, for demons had some immunity to acids too. Beyond, Zanlarg was enclosed in a shield of arcane energy, acid rolling down it like rain off a window, loosing bolts of energy from within. Each one speared an erosikraken neatly, killing it but spraying its' insides all over the surrounding deck. Rihiku was whirling his massive golden zweihander rapidly, defending himself ably but not completely; several feathers were burning in his magnificent wings and his green-and-white robes were holed and slimed. The neogi's slaves were doing their best, but their dominated minds were slower than free ones and two of the humans were already down. The neogi themselves had jammed their small bodies into a gap between the hull and a casket and - for the moment - evaded attack. Then three more now came sailing through the air towards the King of New Tellare. Surya pull back on his mighty bow once again and let fly with another volley of arrows. The arrows flew deadly and true and smacked deep into the three krakens flesh. As before the creatures went down easily, but not before spraying their deadly acid across the white deck. Yet more Kraken immerged from the acid seas and the great bow of Maranus was forced to sing again and again. Now warned of the consequences of destroying the erosikraken too close, Surya chose his targets carefully and spilled their acidic guts harmlessly into the black ocean. After a couple of minutes, he had cleared enough space to allow him to cast a spell in relative safety. Surya could see that the others on board were not faring well under the assault so not waiting for the next attack from the sea, Surya called upon his magic and summand up a massive gust of wind and directed it at the sails. Moments later the sails filled with the magical wind and the ship surged forward. Although it didn't seem to be propelled by normal wind in the usual course of things, the sails certainly worked effectively when filled with it. The White Caravel lurched forward and heeled over as it turned into the wind. Cries of surprise and pain in many languages arose from the other passengers, and a whole barrage of flying krakens went wide, providing temporary respite. The ship accelerated as the second spell took effect. Now the numbers of Kraken were reduced to what had managed to be aboard when the spells were cast. Differences of culture and doctrine were forgotten as the passengers of the Ship of a Hundred defended themselves against the vermin of Porphatys' acid ocean. Finally, the last was slain, and Surya looked around. Sixteen of the Pit Fiend's minions were dead, and he didn't look happy about that; mutters of 'spoil the ritual' could be heard. The Neogi - who alone had avoided any combat - were down to one human and the half-orc, both badly burned. The slave masters were already arguing in their high, grating voices about who could be held liable for their loss of property. Zanlarg, Venmar, Sigred and Rihiku were reasonably unharmed. Arenlos was whole but shaken, sitting quietly in a corner trying to regain his composure. Talahan Bowhawk's left arm was gone, just below the shoulder, with a fused nub of bone and liquefied flesh where it ended. Thalenrath the deva lay twitching in a pool of acid and blood, moaning in a language Surya had never heard before. Surya returned his bow to the quiver of holding and took from it a thick oaken staff shod with gold. Seeing that Talahan was the most injured, he used the power in the staff to heal and regenerate his missing arm. With the human whole once more he then turned his attention to the prone deva and worked his magic upon the fallen angel. Unlike Talahan, the angel was only badly burned by the acid and appeared to have nothing missing. His defender had prevented any further damage from the acid and most likely saved his life. The magic returned the heavenly creature to normal and it was not long before the dark of Porphatys was pushed back once more and a cleaner, more wholesome light fell on ship where he stood. The journey on the Ship of the One hundred was taking longer than Surya had expected or wanted and he had become complacent, but no longer. He might not be able to control where the ship was going, but he could at least prevent them from being caught off guard again. The mortal king took control of the ship and organised the careful removal of the dead from the ship and with those that would cooperate set up watches and wards. As the area of ocean hunted by the krakens fell behind, the survivors took stock of their situation. The White Caravel itself appeared utterly unaffected by the attack; not a rope out of place nor a dent in the deck. Her passengers had not fared so well. Thalenrath the deva and Talahan Bowhawk were tucked under blankets, sleeping off the shock and fatigue of maiming and regeneration under Arenlos' watchful eye. Sigred had been arguing with the Neogi, which he appeared to have met before, and which seemed to expect him to charge them for healing their sole surviving human slave. Before he could convince them that they'd be under no obligation for this service, the man was dead. Venmar, Zanlarg and some of the lesser devils were engaged in lugging bits of slain kraken over the side, while the pit fiend was chewing out his most senior sub-devils for getting some of their subordinates killed, and demanding they summon replacements before the Caravel reached their destination. This appeared still likely, as once the Gust of Wind spells had ended, the ship had slowly shifted direction back to its original course. Surya remember he in the past had used a very useful incantation, which he now cast. His magic weld up from his hands and twenty magical orbs about the size of an apple appeared in front of him. He commanded each of them to scout around the ship in all directions from the ship and return with their finding. With that done the ship started to return to normal once again and the passengers carried on their business as before, if a little more warier of the dangers that lurked in the acid seas of Porphatys. The next four days were relatively quiet, with the wounded recovering rapidly with the assistance of healing magic from various sources. The invisible eyes of Surya's magic prowled the seascape ahead of the vessel, ready to alert them should more trouble appear. Several times they reported ruins on the black icebergs, once a flying demon passing some miles to the north of them, and twice more schools of erosikrakens moving beneath the surface. Nothing troubled them directly, however. At dawn on the fifth day, mere conventions as there was no night or day here, the eyes returned bearing information that Surya struggled to interpret. He sent a couple more to check, but there was no error. An hour or so later, the object they'd located came into view. At first it looked just like another ship on the horizon, but as they converged with it the passengers gathered at the forward rail of the Caravel in awed silence. The vessel approaching them was a windjammer, as was theirs, but long and sleek, making the Ship of One Hundred look like a blocky lump by comparison. Jet black and triple-masted, the newcomer glided through the acid water with a grace that could only be admired. But most of all - it was vast.
Surya's flying eyes swooped and swirled across the massive ship, discovering that there were no living beings on the decks; however, the gigantic holds were subdivided into a bewildering variety of environments, strongholds, prisons, oubliettes, tormentories, and cells, in which a large number of suffering creatures were imprisoned. Slowly the Caravel approached the Barque and came to a gentle halt against her side. Fifty feet above her mastheads, a vast arched doorway yawned, easily 30 feet tall and ten wide. Horizontal ridges were moulded into the side of the ship below, forming steps usable by a humanoid of around twenty to twenty-five feet tall and leading up to the doorway. A movement to his left caught Surya's eye. Zanlarg was gathering his possessions and appeared to have cast several spells already. "This is where we get off," he grated in a tense voice, nodding to the leviathan. It was also where Surya and his comrades must go. Their journey on the Ship of the One Hundred was over and another chapter, possibly a much darker one opened before them. Surya bid a farewell to the remaining passengers and gathered up his possessions and comrades. His three companions now ready to leave stood next to the armoured king and looked up at the doorway on the Black Barque. Each was clearly wondering how they would climb to the archway and then all notice Surya casting his magic once more and with ease left the deck of the white ship and flew up and into the Black Barque. Surya landed on the ship and looked around, confident it was relatively safe flew back down to his comrades. He then lifted each one safely on to the Black Barque. As Surya ascended on his second trip, Zanlarg floated up alongside him on the wings of his own spell. He didn't release the magic on arrival, but remained hovering slightly off the black deck of the titanic ship. Once the last of his companions was transferred, Surya had the chance to look around. The entryway led fifty feet directly into the vessel, then branched left and right to doorways facing fore and aft. Zanlarg nodded at the forward door, and Talahan stepped forwards and opened it. They stepped through into a scene from the very worst depictions of what awaited sinners in the Abyss. Standing on a catwalk suspended a hundred feet up, they were looking down into a honeycomb of tiny cells, each with a tormented prisoner. Some were physical, some were petitioner shells, and some were unclaimed souls. Some were bathed in fire, or acid, or frozen in ice, or scored with blades, or pierced with needles, or infested with vermin or mould slowly eating their flesh, never to kill, only to agonize. Flashes, flares and pools of light of various colours and intensities were visible here and there, but generally the ambience was darkness. Screams and moans blended into a dreadful cacophony of misery. The cells stretched away beyond the limit of sight in both directions, presumably the length of the vessel. Hardened plane walkers though they were, Surya and Zanlarg stood transfixed at the scale of the horrors. He could hear Sigred at his elbow gulping repeatedly, and calling on Aderra repeatedly in a hoarse, horrified voice. Talahan and Arenlos stood motionless, their eyes stretched wide, all their illusions shattered. The Prime Material seemed a tenuous refuge, a tiny pool of light in an ocean of darkness and evil that waited hungrily to claim those foolish or unlucky enough to come within its' reach… It was a shocking jolt, amongst all this, to hear a voice. Clear and level, it spoke from behind them, but it took a moment for the simple message of the words to penetrate their shock. "Welcome aboard, travellers," it said. "The captain will see you immediately. Please accompany me." Turning, they saw a tall, lean figure, humanoid in basic structure, but grey, ascetic and sexless. It wore no clothes, and had only a mouth and large, luminous eyes on its head. Nonetheless, it gestured civilly aft with one long-fingered hand to show the direction they should go. Surya spoke to the tall creature and asked, "Who is your captain and does he mean us any harm." The creature cocked its' head, as if waiting for an answer from somewhere, but nothing came. "The Captain… is the Captain," it replied at length, as if that was all the answer anyone could require. "He means you no harm at present. Whether that continues depends on your actions. You must speak with him to decide what will happen." It gestured again, directing them aft, they decided. As they stepped down the hallway, they passed other grey crew beings, moving about the duties of operating the vast vessel. Despite being a fraction of the size of the original builders, they used a variety of clever rigs and naturally long arms and legs to keep the Black Barque sailing. Surya talked more with their guide, but it was an unrewarding process. He was, or claimed to be, unaware of any higher purposes or authority beyond that of the Captain. After ten minutes or so of walking, the group scaled a massive flight of steps, using a smaller flight built inside each tread, into what was obviously the captain's cabin. The scale of this dwarfed all of them; designed for bipeds twenty or twenty-five feet tall, it soared away above them into the dimness. Vast curved windows looked out over the black sea of acid behind the ship; a titanic bunk occupied one wall; and a desk like a small building stood in the centre of the floor. Behind this was a chair, and seated in it was a skeleton, the first creature they'd seen who was scaled to fit the ship. More than twenty feet high, it was dressed in the rags of a sailor's uniform, with a battered, torn tricorne on its' bony head. The bones themselves were peculiar to look at. At first they appeared partially translucent; but on closer examination, they turned out to be somehow comprised of water; washing backwards and forwards like a more normal sea, but within the restrictions of the shape of the bones, as if those were some kind of clear container, though no edges or border could be seen. A cold blue light flickered in the eye sockets as it watched them cross the floor, but it said nothing, waiting for them to speak. The party stood in the cabin, trying to come to terms with the sheer size of every thing, even its captain. Surya, standing with his comrades and a few feet away from Zanlarg, was the first to speak, "Greeting Captain, I am Surya of New Tellare." He paused waiting for any response from the creature and then continued, "I and my comrades are here to petition the release of three souls in your care." As he spoke he gestured to Sigred, Talahan and Arenlos by way of introduction. He then gestured to Zanlarg of Helm and introduced him to the Captain stating that he wished for the release of his brother, Uati Ginkar. After a few moments, Surya broke the silence and asked the Captain, "May I enquire what form the Proving will take, will I have to defeat the jailor in combat or does the Proving take on another form?" The Captain answered "That depends on the jailor in question. How they meet the challenge is up to them. Zanlarg goes to meet Hammerwrack, and they will resolve this between them." Surya continued his questioning, not willing to recklessly throw his soul away and asked, "The souls we wish to free are Geraint, Gavin and Carrow, may I ask who has imprisoned them and as their imprisonment was caused by effect left on our world will one champion be sufficient for all three and the countless others torn from our world by it." The Captain spoke again, "Gavin of Dakau and Carrow of the Blades of Wisdom and Mercy were caught by the Dance of the Damned due to ill-fortune. Their cases are similar, and the creator of the Dances will be summoned to contest their release. His appearance is unlikely." There was a tinge of humour in his voice as he said this. "Geriant of Alqualin was propelled across time and space and placed into the Dance by another entity, and the challenge will be issued to him. Her name is Gothmog." "Other victims of either do not come into this negotiation, as they have not been named." Half an hour passed, the tension rising. Suddenly, with no warning, a hole tore itself in reality and two figures emerged. One was a soul shell, presumably Uati Ginkar. The other was Zanlarg, and he was in a bad way; his clothes were torn, his flesh burned and ripped, and his breathing apparatus was damaged, leaking purplish gas with a whistling sound with every breath. Zanlarg staggered and regained his balance. "Mine… was mage duel." he gasped in an agonized voice. "I prevailed… just. Uati soul… mine. Once home… no body - can die… at peace. We die… together." He lifted a hand in a vague gesture at Surya. "Luck… human. Honour to… travel with you." The hand twisted into a spell, with the slow, careful movements of one who knows he has only one chance to do what he is doing. The magic of a Plane Shift enwrapped them both, and they faded from view. Surya knew he would never see them again. Surya now turned to the Captain, drawing both of his cursed weapons and stated, "I accept both challenges, but I would know Gavin and Carrow's jailor's name first." Once again the Captain nodded, but this time to Surya, stating, "Their jailor was the creator of the Dance of the Damned; the dragon Varkar Barduric. He has not accepted the challenge, for obvious reasons. Under the terms of our contract, the sentence of the souls staked in the challenge is commuted" He extended one massive skeletal hand, and two faintly glowing crystal jars appeared on it. "Here they are." he finished. "Now, to Geriant of Alqualin. His jailor is the demon Gothmog, who
has accepted the challenge." He waved his enormous hand. Surya instantly
disappeared from the Black Barque. Moments later Surya appeared on solid ground, he was clearly no longer on the Black Barque. The vision that greeted him was not the most pleasant he had ever encountered. The land was scorched and blackened; the sky was dark and sullen with a feint tinge of red running through the black clouds. The smell of sulphur and death clogged his nostrils for a few moments, but was almost a welcome change from the acid vapours of Porphatys. His first thought was he must be in the Abyss or Hell or any number of the lower planes. But something did not feel right, his eyes told him he was in Hell, but his plane walking knowledge told him he was somewhere else. But where? Surya walked for a while, following the sound of what could only be the sea. After about an hour, with the dawn breaking he came to a cliff edge. The Sun rose slowly over the horizon, but its light and warmth had very little effect on this dying land. Standing upon the cliff edge, Surya looked out to sea and wondered what sort of challenge he was to be set by this Gothmog. Then he noticed a short way up the coast ruins looking out over the sea. Surya made his way towards them. As he drew nearer it became apparent that this was the remains of a great fortress city. As he approach what was once the main gate signs of life started to appear. Orcs and Trolls wondered almost aimlessly, but though they were clearly aware of him, they paid him no heed. He crossed the unguarded draw bridge and entered the city. Inside the crumbling city, the death and decay continued. The living and the dead shambled in and out of what were once houses and shops. The only structure that appeared to be more or less intact was the main keep. Though time and conquest had taken its toll on the structure it still rose one hundred feet above the remains of the city. Surya made his way through the rubble and bones towards it. As he approached the main keep a huge ball of fire hit the top of it, showering him and the surrounding area in rock andfire. Surya brushed the debris from his armour and looked up to see a humanoid figure immerge from the flames and make its way slowly down towards the mortal king. The creature was clearly female, clad in tight revealing black leather armour and thigh length boots to match, designed more for the bedroom than the battle field. She carried a large whip in one hand, which she let drag across the stone floor. Flames occasionally licked from its tip as it passed over the ground. Her face was fair and very beautiful, her eyes were the colour of emeralds and her jet black hair streaked with fire fell upon her naked shoulders. Curiously she also carried a huge black sword strapped to her back, the weapon was clearly not made for one with such a light frame.
She now stood in front of Surya and spoke softly, "Greetings my Lord and welcome to my realm." She paused fleetingly, moving seductively closer to the human, "I am Gothmog, does my appearance please you, mortal." Surya did not need to answer, but spoke anyway, "Greetings my lady, your appearance, shall we say, was not what I was expecting." She smiled back at him as he continued, "I am Surya King of…." The woman politely cut him short, "I know who you are and why you are here," she paused for a moment while she looked over the armoured human and the weapons he carried. "And because I know who you are, I have decided not to set you a challenge. We could fight, but the outcome would be uncertain. I have allies here, but so I see do you." Her eyes rested briefly on the sword of the Dead Legion. The tension in the air dissipated slightly as the creature spoke the words Surya wanted to hear, he had just not expected this turn of events. Gothmog spoke again, "I am weary of this world now, I will release this Geriant creature, may be his return will provide some small sport before I move on to my next conquest." She continued, "But before you leave I would have you take this token to him and tell him, he will need more weapons like this one to defeat me, but unfortunately this broken sword is the last of the blades of the Azimuth." With that she drew from her back the huge two handed sword and dropped it at Surya's feet. Surya looked down at the dulled and blackened sword, time and other things had clearly taken there toll on this weapon, but a good vet might get it on its feet again he thought. He also thought it was a good thing this creature could not read minds, as he also knew this was not the last sword of the Azimuth. He picked up the sword, bowed in thanks to the demoness and was gone. Moments later he reappeared back in the Captain's cabin on the Black Barque, carrying Gothmog's gift to Geriant in one hand and another small crystal jar in the other. Assuming the jar contained the final soul, he passed it to Sigred, stating simply, "I think we are done here, shall we leave." With that they bid the Captain farewell and Surya started to prepare
his magic that would returned to the Basilica in Narthal. The vast skeleton
with the ocean bones nodded in response to Surya's farewell as his companions
gathered to his side in the tilting, dim vastness of the cabin. With the
three crystals safely stowed in Sigred's pouch, the four questers moved
across between realities, leaving the dour Captain to forever command
his huge vessel of trapped and suffering souls across the acid oceans. The warm orange glow of a summer sunset washed across the questers as the magic faded. After so long under alien skies in strange light, the familiar radiance was like a welcoming embrace and all four smiled involuntarily. They were standing in a cloistered courtyard, in the middle of a small garden of delicate flowers and raked gravel. Two young men in rather grubby robes of Aderran lay brothers were frozen in the midst of tending the plants, staring at the battered, blinking new arrivals. Talahan Bowhawk bent carefully and plucked a small blue flower. Tucking it into the brooch of his cloak, he laid a hand on it. "Never again!" he said, "by this flower I vow - I shall live my life in the real world and never, ever walk the planes more! Aderra, bear me witness!" Arenlos Mindshadow smiled sympathetically. He made no such declaration, but then again he'd not lost an arm. Sigred, as nominal host, took charge. "Our apologies, brothers," he said to the two gardeners, "we shall leave you to tend your blooms." Carefully, he guided the others out of the garden and through the sprawling Basilica to the Infirmary. There each soul-jar was laid at the head of the bed where its body rested. Sigred cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders. "Now," he said dryly, "for the tricky bit!" Then his normally mischievous face grew serious as he beseeched his Goddess for a Miracle. A wash of blue energy spread from the priest-agitator and enveloped the jars and bodies, with the brighter glow around the jars. Slowly, the beads of radiance shifted from the jars to the bodies. Then, suddenly, the light vanished, Sigred sagged, and the three victims of the Dance gasped and opened their eyes. Carrow and Gavin looked around, frightened but sane, relief and reason filtering back into their eyes as they discovered mortal humans and honest stone walls. Gavin even mustered a smile when he recognized Arenlos and Talahan. Geriant, however, came awake with a cry of rage, sorrow and horror, raving in a variety of languages, Elvish and common among them, finally sinking back into a normal sleep with the muttered, wistful words "Caitiffyd Blødwynn da…" Seeing there was nothing more he could do for the poor creature, Surya left the infirmary and retired to his quarters. The rescue of the three souls from Porphatys had taken its toll on the king and he thought he would stay in Narthal for a while. Next morning he awoke late, he was much refreshed after the best night's sleep he had had in a long while. After breakfast he turned his attention to cleaning and repairing of his equipment. The acid sea of Porphatys had not done too much damage to his gear, but it took many hours removing all evidence of his journey to the lower planes. As he worked he came across the great sword Gothmog had presented to him. It was once a fine sword, very well constructed, but time and other things had taking its toll. Surya cast his magic upon the blade, but there was no trace of its former power. After his chores were complete he made his way to the armoury and sort out Brother Armourer to ask for permission to use the Basilica's forge again. The monk said he could use the forge at any time he wished, "The Goddess will watch over and bless your workmanship," he said, very subtly making it clear that attempts to forge dark magic in the Basilica would be less than popular. Surya promised not to betray his trust and made his way to the workshops. Surya, entered the forge, took one of the heavy leather aprons from a hook on the wall and prepared himself for the long and warm work of restoring this blackened weapon. Surya worked on the great sword for many hours, removing the black, encrusted filth that had been allowed to build up on the weapon. It was very warm work, but in the end he was pleased with the result. When he had finished, Surya cleared away the tools he had used and left the forge for the day. He took the great sword and Geriant's sword with him and went out in to the sunshine. It was a fine afternoon and Surya found a quite spot in one of the many courtyards in the Basilica. Sitting at a table in the sun he laid both weapons down in front of him and studied them for a while. The weapon Geriant had been carrying when he was found had runes down the blade and on the hilt. These runes were not familiar to Surya, but with the use of a little magic the meaning became a little clearer. The runes down the flat of the blade appeared to name the weapon, Deathsbane, but the meaning of the symbols on the hilt eluded him. Surya turned his attention to the other blade, a great sword. It had clearly been made by the same smiths as the other sword, but there were no runes on this weapon. Closer examination of the blade revealed that there had once been writing on it, but it had been deliberately obliterated. Over the next few weeks Geriant's health improved and he appeared to make a full recovery in body, but as to his mind only time would tell. Surya visited the knight many times, informing him of the story that had brought him to this place. The king presented the two swords he had recovered during his rescue and Geriant seemed pleased. After nearly two days, Geriant woke again from his sleep. The effects of shock and loss had receded, and he seemed sane, if sad. When Surya produced the re-forged Deathsbane, Geriant took it and studied it for a long moment. "It is a masterful piece of work," he said quietly. "The Sword of the Azimuth is reborn, and ready to fight again. But in what cause? Whose service? And is the hand fit to wield it again?" He smiled suddenly, looking up at the tall Tellaran. "You are a warrior and a magesmith it seems, my rescuer," he commented. He reached out and lifted the greatsword from the table. "Andred's sword," he said. "It too was broken, and lost with his body in the final battle. She must have kept it, too, as a souvenir." He turned it over in his hands a couple of times. "The magic is gone," he observed. "Even in my time, the creators of these weapons were lost in the mists of the past; the Azimuth, a mighty and vanished race. The three blades were the last relic of their craft. It amazes me that you managed to re-forge one with no knowledge of their past." He spent some time telling his companion all he could remember of the powers and traits of the three weapons. Then it was Surya's turn to speak, as Geriant questioned him about this world in which he now found himself. A hopeful sign, Surya felt, as it showed the man was looking forwards rather than dwelling on the lost past. Surya stayed on in the Basilica for about a month filling his time with research in to the new weapons he planned to make. Brother Armourer had given him the use of the forge, but he decided to wait until he could use his own workshops and resources. He watched the progress of the three souls they had rescued and when Gavin had recovered enough to travel, Surya decided to accompanied him back to Dakau with Talahan and Arenlos. On the day he was due to depart, Geriant and Sigred came to see them off. The priest shook Surya's hand and grinned his youthful smile. "It was good to travel with you again," he said warmly, "I confidently expect that the next time darkness, slaughter and utter damnation threatens our world, we will meet again. May it continue to be on the same side!" Surya smiled back at the priest and simple said, "For our worlds sake, I hope it is the same side, farewell friend." Geriant also wrung the tall King's hand. "Though I think our paths may be different," he said, "I too count you my true comrade, and should there be aught I can do to aid you in turn, you need but call. Tyr… or whoever… go with you." The journey from Narthal to Dakau took a leisurely twelve days. The recently rescued, while largely healthy again, had only limited endurance to begin with, and it took them several days to regain enough fitness to ride for a whole day at a stretch. It was rather pleasant riding in company through the summer fields of Stryre. The central and southern regions had known peace now for more than five years, and the land was rich and fertile. Farmers worked in their fields, and crops waved beside the road as the four travellers rode through the land. Country-folk looked up as they passed, touching their forelocks in respect as the tall knights rode by, their bright armour shining and tall helms nodding, like figures out of legend. Gavin proved a good travelling companion. He was cheerful and a good conversationalist, as well as having a good singing voice and a collection of songs ranging from the rural through the formal to the downright ribald. He performed a pretty good rendition of The Ballad of the Fall of Vane the Mace one night, standing outlined against the stars as the others reclined around the campfire. He also knew practically all the nobility of southern Stryre, and his introductions gained the four many a well-spread table and night's rest at castles and manors along the road. Finally, they rode into the fortress city of Dakau, though the city in the early morning and under the fortress's gate as the sun rose. The sergeant of the guard came rather sleepily to challenge them, to gape in astonishment and then sprint to alert his lord. The celebrations went on for several days, with a formal banquet, a day of public celebration in the city at large, and an out-and-out bottle party hosted by Gavin's peer group among the young well-borns. Baron Gaval publicly praised and thanked Surya, placing himself and his family at the King's service and offering him any reward he cared to name. He also lauded and rewarded his two knights; although not the prime movers in the rescue, they were part of it nonetheless and had risked death and worse in his service. The celebrations soon petered out and Dakau returned to normal. Surya decided to continue his expedition across known Alair and made ready to leave. He chose to wear lighter armour for the next part of his trip. So rather than wear his trademark plate armour, he donned his adamantite chainmail instead. Hopefully, he thought to himself, he would not be recognised so easily and might get a chance to see some of the finest scenery in Alair, rather than go off plane to save some fool hardy noble. Now ready to leave he said goodbye to the house of Greybear and continued his journey Northwest back towards Narthal and beyond. For the first few miles Surya was accompanied by Rheerindra and her brother Gavin. The king enjoyed the company of the brother and sister from Dakau. The next few days past very pleasantly, if not a bit too fast for Surya's liking. The three spent most of the day talking as the rode, getting to know each other better. The spent the evening around camp fires, telling tails of other places and other worlds. Good company, fine wines and tall tails, Surya through it could get no better. On the second day, Surya parted company with his two young friends and continued alone. Rheerindra seemed sad to see him go; a certain sparkle in her eyes hinted
at the possibilities should he decide to stay. But many things pulled
him away; loyalty to Leonora and fear of what might befall. His memories
of the Red Dust were fresh enough for that. Ten days later he approached the great city of Narthal once more. Not wishing to enter the city, Surya cut across country for twenty miles or so until he struck the road. This led between Raden and Lygia; not exactly the right direction, but travel was always quicker by road, and Lygia was famous for the quality of its local brew - an apple cider called Greeneye. Surya may have been a king, but he was also a Tellaran warrior and few of those could resist a drink or two. By evening, he was riding through the outskirts of the town. Lygia was small, without its' own wall, and nestled between two peninsulas of the Estor Forest. The walls of trees could dimly be seen five or six miles to the south and west. As was common with towns so close to forests, most of the buildings were wooden, with only a few major ones stone or half-timbered. The whole place had a peaceful, rather sleepy air that Surya found rather restful. So much so that riding through it was pleasant enough that he found himself on the south-western edge almost before he knew it. As he turned, a tavern caught his eye. Set a little away from the other buildings among a group of trees, a sign proclaimed it as The Tail and The Helm, and the innkeeper's name as Tarasgith. Warm light twinkled invitingly from the windows, and a faint sound of laughter and song was audible on the warm evening breeze. Excellent thought Surya, this would be a fine place to settle for the night. As he dismounted from his trusted horse, he had a nagging doubt about the place. May be it was not as it seemed. Surya cast a few simple spells to determine the nature of the inn and its contents. Seeing all was well, he tethered his mount outside and stepped through the door. The inn itself was everything its' exterior had promised; warm, ablaze with firelight and candles, buzzing with lively conversation. The place was pleasantly filled with countrymen, gathered at the bar or at tables, enjoying mugs of the local brew. Behind the bar was a man in a white apron, robust rather than fat, sporting a short, neat beard and very little hair. Two serving-girls, plump and jolly, shuttled back and forth with trays of earthenware mugs of greeneye and platters of food. Although the arrival of an armoured man attracted some interest, Surya's calm demeanour defused any potential alarm, and the main reaction to him seemed to be speculation as to his origins and destination, though it was noticeable that he received plenty of room at the bar. Surya looked round the room, while he waited to be served, observing
the apparent scenes of normality. From behind him a female voice called
to him. Surya turned and was greeted by one of the serving girls with
a cheery, "What can I get you sir?" to which Surya responded,
"A pint of your finest please and something hot to eat." In no time at all, the girl re-appeared with a steaming bowl of stew and fresh bread. As she laid the table and placed his food down, Surya asked if they had a room available for the night and a stable for his horse. With a saucy chuckle, the girl tossed her hair about and told him that two of the Helm's six rooms were free and there was stabling available. A strong hint that a warmed bed could be added to the inn's more conventional comforts was also perceptible. Warmed by good food, cold sharp cider and a little flirting, the incognito King of New Tellare settled to observe the inn and its' occupants. He played a couple of games of draughts with a wiry forester named Shnalt, and won spectacularly at darts to some applause. The barmaids Renhara and Melrilla kept him well supplied with drinks. A couple of hours went by very pleasantly, and the King of New Tellare was as relaxed as he had seldom been in the last few years when the company broke up. Shnalt and his two companions Slyfrid and Lure were also staying at the Helm, having been to market in Lygia with skins and meat with much success. The four lingered for a brief nightcap, and Surya discovered that the foresters were heading in roughly the same direction the next morning. Travelling together seemed a good plan, and they agreed to meet at breakfast and set out at the same time. Next morning, at breakfast, however, Shnalt and Lure were anything but happy and relaxed. Slyfrid was late up, and hadn't appeared by the time the three had finished eating. His friends set off impatiently to rouse him, and banged on the door as Surya headed back upstairs to pack. There was no response, and the two muttered and grumbled, annoyed at his laziness. In Surya's seasoned mind, however, a tiny alarm bell began to ring. Lure opened the bedroom door, and poked his head around into the room. His body twitched with surprise, and he stepped rapidly forward. The alarm bells in Surya's head were clanging like hell now, and he followed suit. Inside, the room looked not unlike his own, comfortable bed, saddlebags and possessions around, window open to let in the cool night air. The only thing out of place was the thing that was out of its' place, Slyfrid was nowhere to be seen. Surya turned to Lure and asked if his companion was prone to disappearing in the middle of the night without paying the bill. When the forester answered saying that it was most irregular and he had not done this before, Surya started to search the room for anything that might be out of place, normally at first and then with the aid of a little magic. In his search around the bedroom, he turning up what looked like most of Lure's equipment, including one or two magical items, armour, weapons and a couple of hundred in various coin. But no clues to Slyfrid absence or to what had happened the night before. Surya asked Lure to check the stables for his horse. When he was alone, Surya thought, he could turned to his more powerful dream magic in an attempt to reveal what had happen in the room last night. Once Lure and Shnalt had hurried off to check Slyfrid's horse and their own, he cast the psychometry spell and inhaled the heady musk of the room's impressions. A wave of images rolled through his perceptions, for this was a place where much had happened. Plots, arguments, lovemaking, deaths, all passed by in a swirl, but fresher than all and stronger was a wave of fear and shock. He focussed on this, and was rewarded by an image of a man, Slyfrid, standing in front of his window late at night, swaying slightly and apparently singing to the moon as he prepared for bed. With shocking suddenness, something vast and black and only vaguely humanoid lunged in through the open window and seized him, hauling him out in an instant with no apparent regard for the weight of his husky body, amidst a wash of terror and horror. The image faded. The intensity of it left even the hardened Surya a little shaky, and he leaned on the wall for a moment. As he did so, Shnalt came pounding up the stairs and back into the room. "Horses are still there," he reported, "though something's spooked them good, every beast in the place is shaking and sweating. Even the pub dog is cowering this morning. What the hells is going on?" Surya turned to Shnalt and said, "He has been taken by some foul creature of the night, I think it was a werewolf of some other dark beast. The colour drained from Shnalt's face as he heard the king's words and he sat down in the bedroom, visibly shaking. Seeing the horror on the foresters face, Surya spoke gently to him, "Don't worry, if your friend is still alive, I will find him." With that the king returned to the parlour downstairs and told the innkeeper what had happened. Tarasgith also took the news badly and told Surya that nothing like this had ever happened before. "The Estor is a quiet forest, rich in game and scarce of unnatural beasts," he said. Shnalt nodded in agreement. "This close to the Border" in Northern Stryre, only one border was significant enough to earn an audible capital "few foul creatures long escape the knights and watchers to the north. Are you sure?" The three had been walking around the inn as they spoke and were now nearing the unfortunate Slyfrid 's window. A smell tickled Surya's nose, but contrary to his expectations it wasn't wet dog. It was burning. In harmony with this, wisps of smoke were coiling up from several spots in the grass under Slyfrid 's window. As they reached the place, Surya and Shnalt hunkered down to get a closer look. Deeply imprinted in the earth was exactly what Surya was expecting to see; the prints of a gigantic wolf. What he was not expecting was the two-inch-radius scorch mark around each one, the earth blackened and cracked, in places fused, and the grass incinerated. To still be smouldering now, the heat must have been incredible. Surya looked up at the other two men and said, "I may have been a bit hasty in my diagnosis, wolves don't normally leave such marks." The tracks lead off into the forest and would not be hard to follow, Surya thought, but if he was going to hunt this creature he would need to change into more suitable attire. The three men returned inside and Surya excused himself and went to his room to prepare for the chase. Ten minutes later the king reappeared to the shock of all present, now clad in his hallmark armour and his cursed weapons of destruction at his side. Whether any in the room now recognised him, Surya did not know or care. He told the inn keeper to lock the doors after he had gone and hope for the best. With that Surya left the Tail and the Helm, hopefully not for the last time, and collected his mount from the stables. Surya headed into the forest, every enhanced sense alert for his quarry. Not far into the trees, the signs of combustion around the tracks dwindled and vanished, leaving simple wolf-prints. He walked for most of the morning, finding the occasional track along the way, but around noon the trail faltered. He back-tracked, circled around, and picked up the tracks again. At least, he thought he probably had, although there was something a little different about them, slightly different spacing. An hour later, he knelt by the latest set and studied them more intensely. They looked fresh; set in very soft mud, they had not begun to blur. He quickened his pace, and after another hour reached the edge of a clearing. Peering through the trees, he could see a huge grey shape moving gracefully in front of him. As it passed through a dapple of sunlight, he saw it clearly; a wolf, of gigantic proportions, easily the size of a small horse. It turned to regard him with piercing and worryingly intelligent blue eyes as he crouched in what he had thought was perfect cover. As it was quite obvious that the creature had seen him, Surya moved from his rather poor cover in to full view. Stealth and evasion was not his thing, so why he even tried to hide from a beast such as this, dressed as he was in heavy black armour, was a mystery. There was no need to skulk in the undergrowth, he was a warrior with no equal, it would take a crazed Orc, with god like proportions, wielding weapons from another era to defeat him in mortal combat. As he moved he subtly cast a few minor incantations in an attempt to ascertain the nature of the beast. It was unlikely to be benign so the King of New Tellare also prepared himself for combat. The creature's ice-blue eyes regarded him calmly as he cast his divinations. The creature radiated magic in waves, although an inherent magic bound up in its' nature rather than the crafted magic built by spells and enchantments. It showed no taint of evil, and looking at it more closely; Surya became aware that it seemed to fit somehow, as if it was right for the forest. Nature seemed to approve of it. No werebeast, unnatural, warped, would be so comfortable in the woods… and now he came to think of it, from the tales he'd heard wouldn't be abroad in the daylight like this. There was also no sign of fire or heat around it. The clues had built up a picture, and Surya was unsurprised when he heard the massive animal speak. "Human. Seldom do our kindred's meet as other than enemies. Yet here we seem to be pursuing the same quarry. I am Father Wolf; guardian and exemplar of all wolves. My normal range is the Beastlands, and I seldom now venture back to this land, so crowded by you and you," he made a rasping cough of disgust, "buildings. Sometimes the need is great enough." "The abomination of members of your species taking on a sham and mockery of mine, this lycanthropy, is not uncommon, unfortunately. It offends me; but your kind and my children can deal with it. The monster you have stumbled upon is to an ordinary werewolf as I am to an ordinary wolf. Not werewolf, but sirewolf; a heartstone of lycanthropy, a source of vileness. From him, new forms of lycanthropy, far harder to defeat, can arise. He needs only victims; human or lupine. As we both know, he has taken a victim. That one will die at the setting of the sun, and arise again the following night as, something. No-one can know exactly what before it happens." "Some convulsion of the Abyss has released this monstrosity into your material plane, and now it stalks both man and wolf. We hunt the same land, for the same prey. It is the way of the wolf to work as a pack in such a hunt. Shall we work as a pack, or oppose each other, human?" Surya put away his weapons of war and approached the majestic beast. The tension between the two was electric; Surya could feel the hairs on his neck stiffening as he moved nearer. The tension was eased when Surya answered the wolf, "If you are not my quarry, then I have no quarrel with you Farther Wolf." Surya paused gauging the beast reaction and then continued, "I am Surya and I will gladly join your hunt. You are doubtless a better tracker than I and if this beast is as vile as you claim, you may need my sword craft before the end." Surya gestured to the farther of wolves to lead the way. With a massive, graceful ease that raised the hairs on the back of the Last Tellaran's neck, the huge creature turned and loped across the clearing, nearly towards the human but slightly to the left. Surya caught up with it as it plunged into the trees. For half an hour or so, the pair moved through the woods. The pace was not fast, but fast enough to challenge a well-equipped man in full plate armour. Surya's iron constitution had taken him through well enough, but a lesser man would have collapsed long since. Father Wolf stopped, and his long nose dipped to the soft earth as the late afternoon light dappled through the trees. Imprinted in the soil were the same prints Surya had seen before, complete with the aureole of scorched earth. "Here," he said in a soft whisper with an undercurrent of jagged growl. "It has been here. These are the tracks. The game is afoot, but the day wanes." Sure enough, the shadows were gathering and evening was nearing. "We must hasten!" said the mighty creature, and sprang forwards once more. This time the pace he set was faster. For nearly an hour they ran, slowing but not stopping to check the tracks. After a mile or so the scorches around the tracks dwindled and disappeared; after three, they stopped suddenly in an area of torn earth and snapped branches. Father Wolf circled the edge of this area carefully, sniffing and seeking, until he found tracks leading out of the area and stopped. Surya walked over to look at what he'd found and together they regarded the prints of bare human feet, moving shakily at first and then spacing out as the maker broke into a run. Once more the hunters were moving, invigorated, surely they could overtake a barefoot naked human in the forest? The tracks seemed fresher as they ran once more. For another twenty minutes they followed the tracks and then the forest began to thin out around them. A minute or two later they stood at the edge of the forest with the sinking sun behind them casting the shadows of the trees into long black fingers reaching as if to grasp… the inn of the Helm and Tail. The tracks led straight towards the building and in though the front door. With the setting sun behind them and with no time to waste, the King of New Tellare quickly turned to Father Wolf and said, "Fancy a beer, I think we have earned one." Understanding his meaning completely, the wolf nodded and both sprinted across the road towards the inn. The human, gestured to his running companion that it should enter the inn from the back, while he made for the front door. The two split up and Surya cast a simple spell as he ran. With the incantation complete he drew his cursed swords and headed for the main door. As the two crossed the inn yard in the red haze of sunset, Surya saw his companion shift gracefully from his original state, in which he looked so solid that everything around him looked somehow less real, to a pale, misty shadow of that self. Without the Robe of Eyeballs he felt it likely he himself wouldn't be able to see the Father of Wolves; anyone who didn't know where to look would never know he was there. With a lively crash, the unlocked doors of the inn burst open. Surya stood framed in the door as all the late afternoon drinkers turned to wonder what had caused such a disturbance. Lure and Shnalt were there at the bar, though giving the air of drowning their sorrows rather than celebrating anything. A flow of the air caught Surya's eye, and he made out with difficulty the wraithlike form of Father Wolf entering the bar from the rear as the sun finally sank from sight and night fell. Without the slightest warning, the forester Lure exploded. That was how it seemed to begin with; shreds of clothing in all directions, blasted out by expansion from within. A moment more and the true cause could be seen; his body itself was expanding, swelling, shifting, morphing, from a human form into a grotesque parody of a wolf, jaws snarling in pain at the transition, eyes blazing with an unnatural light. Under his hand, paw, the tankard he'd been drinking from melted suddenly and ran across the wooden bar surface which itself blackened and began to smoulder from the heat of contact with his body. Then the transformation was complete and a massive lupine form unfolded itself with majestic grace to glare around the suddenly silent bar. Surya moved from the doorway towards the beast as the rest of the bar's occupants scatted and hid as best as they could. Several tried to get to the door, but when confronted by the King of New Tellare, chose another bolt hole rather than pass the armed and armoured human. In the panic, chairs and stools were knocked over; tables were up turned sending their contents crashing to the stone floor. Surya now stood in front of the creature with both his cursed swords levelled at it and spoke, "I order you to return to the Abyss from whence you came." Surya paused waiting to see if the creature would answer or comply. Becoming impatient he repeated his command, "Leave now abomination or I will send you back in very small pieces." The monster's tongue lolled out in wolfish laughter. A voice comprised of growls spoke, loudly enough to shake the room. Surya's Ta'nara gift allowed him to understand what it said. "Leave? I belong here now, fellow human, a gift from the poor wretch I am blended with. His blood and bone build this body, and cannot be dismissed, they belong here!" Surya attacked, the two curséd blades cutting the air with a faint moan, but the thing moved with a speed beyond anything Surya had ever seen; by the time he had struck it was gone, up on the ceiling as if glued to it. A moment later it moved again, springing to the far wall thirty feet away, the wood its' claws gripped already blackened and smouldering. The back door crashed open and Father Wolf bounded in, though only Surya could see him. In the same wolf tongue he snarled, "Now it ends, corruption!" With a howl of fury tinged with fear, the Sirewolf tore the window out and poised to leap out. Father Wolf was quite right, Surya thought, this must end here and now, he had no wish to pursue this creature through the woods again. He needed to slow the creature down or just prevent it from leaving the inn, anything that would allow them to engage the beast. Thinking fast, with the speed of this creature he had little choice as his weapons appeared to be ineffectively slow; Surya placed one of his swords on the still upright table next to him as cast one of his more powerful spells. Waves of negative energy flowed from his outstretched hand toward the creature. The necromantic power of the King of New Tellare poured into the creature causing it to be overcome with exhaustion. As the black flows of translucent energy radiated from the tall Tellaran, the shadows seemed to gather in all the corners of the once-jolly inn. The massive shape clinging to the wall seemed to droop visibly as the spell hit it. Its' claws unclasped involuntarily, and it dropped to a crouch at the bottom of the wall. An instant later, Father Wolf's form, suddenly visible, exploded into the side of the demon werewolf, bowling it over and over away from the window and back into the taproom. The ancestral wolf was tearing at the unnatural blending of demon and man, while the Sirewolf responded in kind. The werebeast was clearly weakened by the effects of the spell, and his fang and claw attacks were far less effective, but the terrible heat of his teeth and claws was wreaking dreadful harm on Father Wolf. The smell of burning dog hair filled the air. Then Surya was upon them, his twin swords tearing into the demon monster that had once been a forester called Lure. Black blood fountained across the boards of the floor, the swords trailing a dark light as they whirled. Wounds stitched across the massive frame, and gradually something became visible beneath the unhealthy grey flesh and smoking black blood of the Sirewolf; human flesh lay beneath. The wounds Surya dealt tore through the animal body and into the human, wounding that in turn, loosening it inside the dark form, until finally it slithered through the Sirewolf's shape to hit the floor with a meaty, final thump. What was left was at once more and less than the original. An iridescent coil of black mist, swirling and twisting in place, occupying the space originally filled by the Sirewolf and shaped the same, reared up to snarl an insubstantial defiance at the Last Tellaran. "Fool mortal. Freed of my blending to human flesh I will burn in the daylight and be cast back to the Abyss; but while the night lasts I walk the world and you are mine." Ignoring the demon's threats, Surya answered, "No abomination, there will be no moonlit walk for you this night, for this is your last moment on Alair." With that Surya raised his blood drenched weapons and attacked the creature again. With the sun rise came the slow realisation that the creature was finally dead and exhaustion now creped in to every part of Surya's body, mind and soul. Unable to stand he lowered himself slowly to the ground and sat on the dew covered grass, throwing his swords in front of him. For a few moments he appeared to be at piece with himself, free from the twin curses that lay in front of him. They were like a drug to him and he knew that this addict would need them again. Surya then became aware that Farther Wolf was now sat near by. Once Surya had become aware of him he spoke, "You fought well this evening human." The wolf continued, "I said when we first met that seldom do our kindred's meet other than enemies, I am please to say that today was not one of those occasions and I would be glad to call you friend for the service you have done me and my kind." Surya turned to the Wolf Lord and said, "I would be please to accept your friendship, but please allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Surya, King of New Tellare, Dragon Slayer and in dire need of a drink, shall we." Surya gesture towards the tavern, the wolf nodded in agreement and the pair made their way towards the lounge bar of the Tail and the Helm.
The mismatched pair entered the once-crowded inn, finding only a few of the former occupants had remained, those too frightened to break cover, and a few, like Shnalt and Slyfrid, had had the courage to stick it out, though not to engage the monster. Slyfrid glanced out through the window to see the torn rags that remained of his dead friend Lure and grimaced. He bowed his head and offered a quick prayer to Ehlonna to take his soul. Inside, the common room was strewn with debris and glass from the smashed window, all stained red by the rising sun. It looked as if dipped in blood, a reminder of what might have come to pass if Surya and Father Wolf had not intervened. Melrilla the barmaid poked her black curls cautiously up from behind the bar. The sight of Father Wolf made her eyes bulge, but the calm armoured tread of the Last Tellaran reassured her that all was well. When he requested a drink, she fell gladly back on familiar responses, and pumped a flagon of cool clear greeneye cider. Father Wolf sat comfortably on the wooden floor, his massive head still clearing Surya's by six inches. "I am glad to have met you," he said, "a different kind of human. Your empathy is rare. In thanks, accept my blessing," his warm tongue touched the human's forehead for a moment, "know that no wolf will attack you while you carry it. Few would; not many of my children are such fools." With an ironic nod to the frozen barmaid, he faded from view and was gone. As he faded from sight Surya nodded in farewell, he doubted they would ever meet again, but the Beastlands was on the kings list of places he would like to visit. After a few more flagons of the local brew, Surya started to relax a little and the thrill, fear and tension of the last few days started to fade to just a memory. His thoughts turned to his journey and as always to swords. The fight with Sire Wolf had shown him that the swords he carried were just tools and it was he that had overcome the vile spirit not the swords. He needed weapons he could channel his own power through rather than the weapons channelling their power through him. He knew he would never let the cursed swords go, but if he had other options he might just save a small part of his doomed soul. He had a mind to forge two swords, one from mithril the other from adamantite or possibly the dark metal he had found. But he would need to find out more information on this material before committing to its use. These swords would reflect the facets of the Goldeneye's foretelling of him, the bright fate and the dark power. Each weapon would be set with a shard of the shattered Sancrist crystal he carried, which would hopefully become a focus for his own power, rather than others. Deep in thought he had not noticed Melrilla the barmaid approach his table. He awoke from his waking dream with a start, as she asked if there was anything she could get him. Surya answered, "A hot bath, a comfortable room and a few nights peace and quiet." She smiled back at him and spoke, "I can't promise peace and quiet, but the other requests are on the house, please stay as long as you wish." Surya planned to stay for a few nights in the inn, then he would travel south to Belegond before heading north up the Vileflow to Belamir. Once in the Elven kingdom, he would visit the new Lord of Lantalaure, Elverandil Mastersmith and discuss the forging of his new swords. Melrilla was as good as her word; the King of New Tellare had the opportunity to catch up on a lot of sleep in the following few days. The warm, slow, peaceful pace of the country inn was healing, and the peaceful ambiance was one of the contributing factors to the evaluating look he was casting over his life and fate. One sad exception was the morning the foresters gathered to say farewell to their lost friend. Whatever he had become, Lure had been a friend to them first. There was little enough to bury, but they wrapped it decently in some canvas and buried him a little way off in the trees, as was the foresters' way. Shnalt muttered some prayers to Ehlonna but not even Surya could say for sure where Lure's soul had ended up. Leaving the tavern several days later, the warrior rode along the edge of the Estor Forest, following the edge of the trees. After thirty miles or so he began to see the twinkle of water under the late afternoon sun, and soon he was riding along the banks of the mighty lake Malaberg. A hundred and fifty miles long and fifty across, Malaberg was the size of a small sea and whole towns along its' shores were entirely supported by the bounteous fish with which it teemed. In the distance, across the glittering water, Surya could see tiny sails, showing where the freshwater men of the lake were plying their nets. He rode along the bank in the gathering gloom, considering whether to make camp and try his luck at fishing, an operation he was not very practiced in. As he did so, he noticed lamp-light flickering among the trees in the gathering evening gloom. Here's luck, he thought, a bed for the night. Ten minutes brought him into the fringes of a small village. Cottages ringed a small dip with a green space in the middle that looked perfect for a market. A statue, made of wood and very carefully tended, stood at one edge of the green; a man in unremarkable clothes though depicted in a deeply heroic posture, one arm thrust upwards and his head tipped back to gaze intently on what he held. It seemed to be some sort of root vegetable. A couple of the cottages backed onto wood yards, and one had a wooden boot dangling from the eaves to show the inhabitant's trade. Three larger buildings formed a rough triangle around the green; a stable, what was probably a small shrine though it was hard to tell to what god, and of course a tavern. It was only a country village, but looking at the cottages, and the fields of crops, and the fishing nets hung to dry, it occurred to Surya that he'd seen better craftsmanship. Everything seemed done with good intention, but nothing looked to have been made well. Many of the cottages had a twinkle of lamplight, but the tavern had the most lit windows, and from the edge of the village, Surya could easily hear the buzz of conversation as he approached. Partly, this was because some of the locals had emerged and were enjoying their evening ales in the warm summer evening. When the armoured horseman emerged from the darkness into the pool of light around the tavern, the general reaction was more surprise than anything else. Maybe few warriors came this way, and the lake was a fair bulwark against the Curst coming down from the Desolation in this direction. Whatever the reason, once the startlement had worn off, the locals gathered around his horse, tankards in hand, clamouring for news from 'down the shore'. In short order, he was introduced to the innkeeper Rowamorlor, a round, jolly man who seemed to know everyone and a great deal about everyone, Orater the carpenter and timber merchant a rather snippy man, slightly more finely dressed than the others and with a 'take charge' air that Rowamorlor simply ignored, Kyravyr the Captain of the Guard a grand title for a man in charge of four militia and Faran the priest a young man with a worried air who everyone seemed to pass over rather. These worthies comprised the village council, and were clearly pleased to have a knight and warrior guest with them. Another man was sent for, from the stables Surya had noted before, a rather quiet individual named Maraneth, who approached Surya's fearsome warhorse with gentle confidence, made friends with him in a remarkably short time, and led him away to the stables with assurances that he'd be well cared for that the other villagers were swift to endorse. As the evening went on, Surya was whole-heartedly included in the merrymaking of the tavern. The food wasn't fabulous, and he'd tasted much better ale in many places. The atmosphere in the tavern was jolly, even a little uncontrolled, it felt as if the villagers were celebrating something, although when asked, their answers tended towards the 'no, we're just happy, we love our town' variety. Only the young priest was different. Talking with his neighbours, nursing a drink and definitely taking part, he watched the villagers with worried eyes when he thought no-one was looking; only a man with eyes in the back of his head would have spotted it. Surya sat down next to the priest and placed his tankard on the table in front of him. He turned and spoke to the cleric, discreetly saying, "Greeting Faran, why is it you do not appear to be enjoying these celebrations, your flock seem very happy, too happy perhaps." The priest leaned close for a moment. "Not here," he hissed. "Meet me outside." Laughing suddenly, as if Surya had said something droll, he stood up, drained his ale, and headed for the door. "Nature calls," he chuckled, and disappeared outside. Following a few moments later, Surya glanced around and caught sight of the priest lurking in the trees a little way from the tavern. It was fortunate that only Surya's augmented vision could pick him out, because he was making such a hash of being unobtrusive that he'd have made anyone suspicious. Joining him, the Last Tellaran gently guided him back out of sight, then looked enquiringly at him. Faran sat on a fallen trunk and sighed deeply. "Have you noticed how the people of this place are?" he asked tentatively. "They're good people, contented, happy, good churchgoers… but something doesn't feel right really, does it?" He shook his head. "I know my limitations. I'm six months out of acolyte whites, only here because my superiors couldn't think of anything else to do with me, and because Penbury needed a priest after Leshan died. I'm out of my depth with this. But something's wrong. You look like you've seen a bit more of the world than I have; would you be willing to help? I can't pay much." Surya seeing the cleric's distress, tried to console him. "I have no need of your money, but I will help, if I can, but I need something to go on. I sense no evil or great magic at work here." Surya paused for a moment as the priest nodded in gratitude and then continued. "What makes you think that there is something wrong and how did Leshan die?" Faran gave the king a grateful look, then sat back and reflected for a moment. "I wasn't here then, obviously, but from what I can understand Leshan simply died of old age. Although, he was only fifty or so. That's another thing; no-one here seems to live to what you'd call a ripe old age. How to put it? I've never actually talked about this before, just gathered impressions." He paused, marshalling his thoughts. "Everyone here is so happy, and contented," he began, "that you'd never wonder about it unless you lived here. True, there are no wars or monsters or cruel taxes here, and the forest and the lake provide for all. Yet, somehow, they never really seem to benefit. Maybe you've started to notice? No-one here…. Well, no one here is really any good at what they do. The work of the craftsmen is average at best, the food people prepare, the ale in the inn, the boats, all of it." His brows darkened a little. "I have my suspicions," he commented. "Young Kellum has started learning magic. He hides himself away in his cottage, and looks unnatural, pale, and nervous. Maybe he's slipped up and summoned something dark? Maybe he hasn't. It's just a theory. But maybe you should start with him." Surya agreed with him that it would be a good place to start and asked for more information on Kellum and more importantly directions to his cottage. "Kellum's young," said Faran, unaware of the irony of this coming from a man unlikely to need more than one shave in a week. "This happened before I came here, but from what I understand his mother was injured in a logging accident, and Stalbar, the local healer, simply wasn't up to the job of pulling her through. She died, and he got very withdrawn and strange. A party of travellers came through a few months later and one of them taught the lad some magic. That was it; changed his life. He gives all his time to it now, and we seldom see him. His cottage is on the south road, into the edge of the forest about half a mile out." Surya also asked the cleric if the town had a graveyard. Surya thought to himself, if something had been disturbed by Kellum's magic, the resting place of the dead might be the good place to find it. Faran appeared very startled at the suggestion that there might be something amiss with the graveyard and bridled a little. "I perform the rites properly," he insisted, "and so did Leshan before me; I can tell you know. Nothing walks about in Penbury's graveyard. But feel free to check it out." The cleric gave Surya the information he asked for and the two parted company. Walking along the side of the small, rather ramshackle church, Surya came out into a pleasant, shady area of green ground on the edge of the forest. The trees shadowed the grassy yard, casting dapples over rows of neat wooden gravemarkers, carved or painted with Pelor's sun symbol. Some had flowers laid at them. As he walked through the graveyard, Surya's demon-enhanced senses were extended to the full, but he felt no resonance in the dark reaches of his soul. The dead here were just that; dead. Feeling oddly balked, and maybe a little surprised at finding graves that were just plain holes in the ground with dead bodies in for once, he left the village and followed the beaten earth road south until he came to the cottage Faran had described. Like all the others, it was shabby, not unkempt but appearing to have been built and maintained by people who didn't really know much about doing so. The garden was full of weeds, but there was a light on in one of the windows. Before Surya approached the door at the front of the dwelling, he cast a few of his minor incantations, in an attempt to ascertain the mature of the house and its surroundings. Finding nothing out of place, he made his way to the entrance and knocked loudly upon it. Surya's knock on the door was answered by a skinny, pale-faced youth of around fifteen. "Yes?" he said hesitantly, but unworriedly. "Can I help you?" The king answered polity and introduced himself. "Good evening young
master, my name is Surya. I was told you were in the magic profession
and I was wondering if you could make me a few potions." ….Find out what happens to our hero in the next unedifying episode
of this tale. The Story Continues….
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about two hundred and fifty clans. They call themselves the Kabirlah,
meaning Horsemen. These nomads had the reputation for breeding some of
the finest horses in the world. Surya hoped to find a better steed there
than the one he was riding, similar to the one he had back home, which
after many years faithful service had been retired to stud.
The
combination of the many years Surya had spent 'roughing it' around Alair
and his considerable magic meant that he was reasonably safe as long as
he was careful. He was, moreover, skirting the edges rather than plunging
deep into the Dust. Nonetheless, the heat was tremendous, and without
magic his heavy armour would have been unendurable. He found the combination
of desert sun and the Robe of Eyeballs rendered him unable to see properly
and he was obliged to pack the garment away.
Ten
days after his encounter with the brigands, he halted on the scrubby grass
that had been pushing up through the sand at the desert's edge and looked
ahead. A normal man would have had to shade his eyes, but the magical
lenses over Surya's meant he could looks straight at the sun if he wanted
to. In the distance he could see regular shapes, and tendrils of smoke;
it was good to see a city again. If the battered maps he carried were
accurate, that should be Dakau on the southern border of Stryre. It was
only a small city, but from there he could pick up the road through Melirkos,
and on through Stryre. If he swung east of the Estor forest, he could
stop in Emrys and look up Xerxes the Gatecrasher. First, though, he had
to face people again, and reassure himself that his …chaotic…
episode was firmly behind him.
It
was late in the day when Brother Armour appeared and when he saw the pieces
of the broken weapon he knew what Surya needed. They gathered up the metal
shards and made their way across the Basilica to the armoury. The monk
led the king in to the forge and the two prepared to make new that that
was broken. For a night and a day the pair worked tirelessly in the heat
of the forge until the shards were made whole again. Both were experience
sword smiths, but this task took all their knowledge and know how to complete.
As the two men worked closely together, each felt the respect for each
other grow. For the eighteen hours it took to complete the task, both
men put aside their differences and worked as one. And by early evening
of the next day it was done and both men were pleased with their work.
The monk held the weapon and smiled, for it was a good sword, a very good
sword. He turned to the warrior king and spoke, "It is wonderful,
but I don't think this weapon is for you, I on the other hand would be
happy to give this fine blade to any of my knights or even use it myself,
if I were a knight that is." With a smile the priest passed it to
the king. The monk was correct; it was a fine blade, well balanced and
extremely sharp. But it didn't feel right in Surya's hands. He now re-cast
his incantation upon the blade, in the hope he could discern more of its
nature. Now, there was more, a lot more. 
nearby, but one finally looked up and was very pleasantly surprised to
see him. The humanoid creature stood about seven foot tall, its body was
covered with razor sharp bards from it head to the tip of its meaty tail.
The creature stopped whipping the Lemures that trudged up and down the
jetty and spoke. "Well what do we have here, a mortal and human,
tasty." The other Devils all stopped what they were doing and turned
towards Surya. As he spoke back to the creature, "I'm sorry, but
this human is not for eating, I seek a ship." All the Devils started
to laugh, one pointed to the rotting scows and said, "Please come
aboard…" Surya interrupted him. "No, I seek the Ship of
the One Hundred, can you tell me when it docks here next." The Devils
now started to move towards Surya, one said more forcefully, "No
Human, you get on board now." It was clear to Surya, as these creatures
closed around him, that they were not going to help him. Surya responded
by demanding, "Step away or I shall return you all to the Nine Hells
in a hand cart." One of the creatures did as the king suggested,
being branded a coward as he did, but the rest stood there ground. The
largest of the Devils, now so pumped up that he could not step down even
if he wish to, raised his whip and attacked. 
The
forth day came and at about three in the afternoon, Surya noticed a large
white ship approach the docks. It was beautiful, made from what looked
like clear white marble. It sailed into the dock like a majestic swan,
the sight spoilt only by the surroundings. They packed their belongings
and bid Standish farewell. The hotelier wished them a pleasant journey
and asked if they would spread the word of his hospitality. The four then
left the gothic tower and made their way towards the quayside. By the
time they arrived the ship had dock and a gang plank had been lowered.
Passengers of all types were already disembarking and making their way
into the city, but there was no sign of any crew or cargo. Close up the
ship was even more beautiful, the acid snow appeared not to fall on the
ship at all, leaving it unblemished unlike the squalid scows that bobbed
like turds around it. 
The
Black Barque, for it could be nothing else, also made their vessel look
like a child's bathtub toy. The towering dark sides soared a hundred feet
at least over the surface, and the masts looked like mountains. From what
they could see of the rigging and fittings through the driving black snow,
everything was constructed to the same mighty proportions. Who or whatever
the builders had been, they were a lot bigger than any of the mixed bag
of passengers 
Surya
looked at the two blades lying on the ground, glinting in the new light
of the morning. For a split second he considered leaving them there, but
the moment passed and without a second thought they were once again at
his side.