Delly watched Sonan enter through the gates several hours after sunrise. No one traveled outside the city during the day without an enchanted wagon. He arrived within a few minutes of such a caravan, but Delly wasn’t fooled. This man had traveled on foot. He wore a hooded light tan cloak, and the suspicious guards made the man peel it back to look him in the face. He was the size of an orc and could have been a draconian spawn. Delly had heard that the fire-imbued kobolds could last longer than most in the desert heat.
He was none of those things and looked as human as anyone else Delly had seen. His deep, tan skin was not as dark as hers, but she knew the desert people had a range of skin tones, and he was no different from many other refugees who had escaped to Zamora from distant cities before the plague had taken complete hold on the land.
Delly had expected him to look older. Tales of his exploits preceded the plague by over a decade, and the curse had befallen the land almost forty years ago. Still, he looked no older than 35. Perhaps his connection with the land kept him young. Delly’s barbarian rage, granted to her by her goddess, gave her more agility, finesse, and precision than physical strength, and she didn’t suffer from as much fatigue as others of her ilk who relied more on brute force. She was naturally strong and competent in battle, even without enacting her rage. If there was a way to use her abilities to keep her young and beautiful, she had even more reason to learn the secret behind this man’s power. Also, the brief view she was given beneath his hood let her know playing the seductress to this handsome man would not be an odious task.
Once they saw he was a human with no obvious contraband, the guards let him through, and no one else gave Sonan a second glance. Delly understood that Lord Vulder couldn’t announce Sonan’s expected arrival to too many people. Otherwise, some might see it as a chance to rally around the mythical hero, and a successful revolution became more probable. Still, she expected some resistance to his entry. Instead, he walked unobstructed through the city streets. If anything, people seemed to go out of their way to ignore him and go about their business. Even the few snakes bathing in the early morning sunlight retreated into the shadows between buildings as he strode by confidently.
Wrapped in a similar cloak, Delly fell in step behind him at a distance of fifty feet. She didn’t have the skill to slink along in the shadows, so instead, she followed in the center of the street, her eyes more often on the shops and taverns around her than on the mark a few dozen paces ahead. Foot traffic was light this morning, and spotting the tall, hulking figure moving toward the city’s center was easy. He, too, cast his eyes at the wares for sale around him for several blocks before turning right onto a narrow street between two small buildings.
Delly quickened her pace, eager not to lose him if he disappeared into a side door. The smaller street ran North and South, entirely in the shade from the Eastern rising sun, and the young woman needed a moment to adjust her eyes to the darkness. A moment was all Sonan needed. She felt the powerful man grab her arm and spin her around, pressing her back against a stone building and locking her in place. She glanced to her left, back toward the street, but a pile of wooden barrels hid them from view of the foot traffic less than 30 feet away.
“Why are you following me?” His voice was deep and rich, with a hint of rage just under the surface.
He tightened his fingers, and Delly couldn’t move a muscle, yet she felt confident he wasn’t using his powers. He was just this strong. The legendary barbarian actually gripped her too tightly, for in her Helpless condition, Delly couldn’t answer his question. Sonan realized this and relaxed his hold slightly. “Who are you?”
“Please, sir,” Delly said, fear creeping into her voice without much acting required. “I only wanted to see where you were going. To see what business you had in the city. And to see if I might find a way to be included.”
“Included in my business?” he asked. “Or that I might be included in yours? I have no time for whoring this morning. I am on a sacred mission.”
Delly gasped. “Then it is you. The legends are true.”
Sonan stiffened, flexing his arm and lifting Delly’s feet off the ground. She was tall, but only after he pulled her up over a dozen inches could she look him level in the eyes. “What do you know of me, woman? Speak quickly, or I shall leave you in a condition never to speak again.”
Delly cried. Her body shook, and tears streamed down her face. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. I thought you were . . . I was wrong. I never should have . . .”
The effect on Sonan was instantaneous. His demeanor relaxed, and he gently lowered Delly to the ground. Her legs were no longer strong enough to support her, and she collapsed onto the dirty street, crumpling into a ball as sobs wracked her body. “I thought you would be different,” she gasped. “When I heard the rumors . . . You were my only hope.”
“Miss,” Sonan said as gently as he could muster, dropping to one knee to put a hand on her exposed shoulder. Delly’s cloak had fallen open, revealing her clothes underneath. She wore a leather halter on top, smaller than her usual outfit. This one was less designed to hold her body in place during combat and tailored more to show it off. Her usual skirt fell to her knees, but this one barely came to mid-thigh and was hiked up to her hip from her fetal posture. “Miss,” he said again, forcing his eyes from her body to her face. “What have you heard of me?” It was the same question as before, only asked with less edge and as much empathy as he could muster.
Delly cleared her throat and wiped her eyes to look up at the powerful man leaning over her. “Rumors said that Sonan, Son of Cam, had escaped the Plague Lands and was finally coming to fulfill his prophecy and free the people of Zamora. I prayed to my goddess for clarity, hoping she would know about your travels. I, too, can summon rage, and I thought she could lead me to you. Today is my last day of freedom. When I saw in a vision a man unlike any other walking through our city gates in daylight, I knew it had to be you. And then you arrived. I had only hoped . . .” she looked away.
Sonan gently reached for her chin and turned her head back. “What is it?”
Delly sniffed sharply and shook her head of tears. “I had only hoped you hadn’t turned into the monsters you fight. I know what the rage can do if used too often.”
Now, it looked like Sonan might cry, and Delly worked hard to keep a smile off her lips. “No, no, I’m sorry, it is nothing like that. I just thought . . .” he paused. “You seemed to know who I am. I intended to come here secretly, scope out the city, and see how best to liberate the people. Zamora is not like the other cities in the kingdom. Even before the plague, none of them had risen to this level of grandeur. It seems your knowledge of me results from divine intervention, so perhaps it is not as widely known as I initially feared. When the guards didn’t recognize me, I thought I was safe. When you did, I got worried. I am sorry.”
Delly nodded and sat up slowly, still pretending to be too weak and mournful to stand. “So you are here to rescue the people of Zamora?”
Sonan was not a thick-headed barbarian and could see where this was going. “Yes, I am, but I can not rescue them one at a time. I perceive that you are in trouble, and I wish I could help, but if I reveal myself too soon, my chance of rescuing anyone else is lost.” He held out an open palm to her, she took it, and he gently lifted her from the ground.
“You wish to get close to Lord Vulder, the Prime Regent?” she asked. He nodded. “Then perhaps our problems are more closely intertwined than you expect.”
Sonan kept a wary eye on her, fighting with his hormones to keep his gaze on her face and not fall prey to her story simply because of her beauty. “Explain.”
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“My brother owes a gambling debt to a prominent man within the city, Pilthon Xavier. In addition to running one of the largest gaming houses in the city, he organizes the betting on the weekly tournaments in our arena. He is always looking for new fighters to go against Lord Vulder’s champion. He offers irresistible odds to his gullible patrons, takes their money, watches the latest challenger fall, and gets rich. People have grown wise to his schemes, and no one bets against the champion anymore. If you were to fight and win, Pilthon could play the odds in reverse and make a fortune.”
“And cover your brother’s debt?” Sonan asked, none too pleased about the proposal. “Or your brother could learn not to gamble and work hard to pay his own debts.”
“My brother is dead!” Delly snapped back, fearing she might lose the barbarian. She hadn’t expected him to be this clever. “He ventured into the desert three nights ago on a hunting expedition and hasn’t returned. Fresh scorpion blood sells for a fortune. My brother is . . .” tears welled in her eyes again, and she fought past them. “And now Pilthon insists the debt is mine. I don’t have the money. Today was my last day to pay. My only other option is to arrive at his establishment dressed like this . . .” she looked down at her clothes, pretended to be surprised that her cloak had become unclasped, and quickly closed it in shame. “You called me a whore before. You were wrong, but if you don’t help me, I soon will be.”
Sonan’s blood boiled as his face scrunched up in controlled rage. “This Pilthon is friends with Lord Vulder?”
Delly nodded. “Regardless. If you enter the tournament and beat Vulder’s warrior, you will become the new champion and have exclusive access to the Prime Regent.”
Sonan nodded; any doubts he might have harbored were gone. “It looks like your goddess has brought us together today for a noble reason.” He helped her from the wall and looked into the street to ensure no one had been watching them. “Come,” he said. “Let us settle your brother’s debt. But first, I don’t even know your name.”
Delly smiled as she told him and then led him toward the trap Pok had prepared.
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Delly had never been to The Desert Dice before. She didn’t gamble and had vehemently turned down Ferrick's repeated offers to socialize outside the group. Once she and Sonan entered, she could hardly picture the uncultured fighter blending in at a place like this. She didn’t have to imagine Pok or Tensta relaxing in this environment. A quick survey of the main gambling hall showed the dark elf and half-orc enjoying themselves at separate tables. The necromancer drank wine at a subdued game of cards on one side of the building while Tensta threw dice at a raucous booth on the other side. At least, Delly assumed the men and women crowded around the concave table were shouting over the results. Magic hung thick in the air, deadening the sound of their exuberant behavior. She even saw Kelrick, an alchemist who often made potions for the group. He knew a few priestly spells but was not capable in combat, and Pok didn’t usually include him in his plans.
The atmosphere inside was cool and moist, an expensive departure from the dry desert air outside. Each breath felt like tasting an exotic chilled wine. Magical lights illuminated every booth and table around the room’s perimeter, with only shadows dividing the patrons. The darkness felt thick with magic, as if black walls partitioned different areas of the hall. Delly could see through them to each brightly lit table, but she couldn’t see into the dense shadows, and a sixth sense told her danger lurked within.
An oval bar sat in the middle of the room, serving drinks and food and allowing guests unobstructed views of the gaming activity around them. Pilthon sat at the head of the bar, his eyes ever vigilant. He noticed Sonan and Delly instantly.
While the female barbarian had not been to The Desert Dice before, she had met Pilthon. The man had approached her during one of her training sessions with the city guard. At first, he had asked her to fight in the arena, as Ferrick must have boasted about her combat prowess, and the crowd loved a good female warrior. When she turned him down, he invited her to his upscale establishment where she could work in a more “social” occupation. Her slap had sent him to the ground, much to the cheers of the men around her. To Pilthon’s credit, he laughed off her aggressive rejection and told her his door would always be open if she changed her mind. Without that encounter, Pok’s plan wouldn’t have worked.
Despite their protests, their cloaks were collected at the door, and they were inspected for any visible weapons. The doorman didn’t pry into their personal inventories, but only a fool would leave themselves vulnerable by going within to get a sword. Characters in a place like this were always vigilant, and if anyone ever rolled their eyes up to retrieve something, they would be set upon instantly.
Pilthon only demanded that no one wore easily accessible weapons on their person. Because they had lost their cloaks, Delly’s enticing outfit was on full display as she led Sonan along an illuminated path toward the central bar. Sonan wore a simple, tan, sleeveless tunic and black pants. His massive arms were impressive, but most patrons who noticed the couple enter kept their eyes on Delly. The owner was no exception.
“It's so nice of you to finally grace us with your presence,” Pilthon said, rising from the bar and admiring the woman with hungry eyes. “I sincerely hope this means you have reconsidered my offer.”
Delly heard Sonan grunt in distaste at how this slimy businessman addressed her. Pilthon looked like a native Zamoran with skin as dark as Delly, close-cut black hair, colorful clothing, and gold jewelry covering his wrists, neck, and ears. “I don’t have many women working at this early hour, so there is plenty of room.”
Delly surveyed the room again, ignoring the three patrons she already knew. Most tables were filled, but only the high rollers had scantily clad women attending them. The escorts blew on dice for good luck, kept their marks’ wine glasses full, and frequently whispered lewd suggestions in their ears. Her skin crawled at the idea that she could ever fill that role.
“I’m sorry to disappoint,” Delly replied. “I’ve come to settle Ferrick’s debt.”
Pilthon’s eyebrows rose in shock at this unexpected statement. “I had no idea you cared so much about him.”
“Watch your tongue!” Sonan roared loud enough to penetrate the sound-deadening shadows and garner attention from most tables. Those who hadn’t seen them enter now stopped their games to watch. Delly smiled. Sonan thought she and Ferrick were brother and sister. Of course, she cared for him. Any implication to the contrary would sound like an insult. Little did he know that Ferrick was a blonde, fair-skinned foreigner, and no one would ever mistake Delly and him for siblings.
“Who is your large friend?” Pilthon asked, ignoring the threat and trusting in the magical protection he had paid for.
“He has agreed to help me settle the debt,” she said. Behind her, Sonan stepped closer and placed a protective hand on her shoulder as his head towered above hers. Pok had warned her about this place and the magic within it. She could sense the aphrodisiac qualities in the air, and the handsome man’s touch sent shivers down her spine. She couldn’t imagine the effect it was having on him. He already had a short temper, a protective instinct, and a weakness for beautiful women. They might not have to wait to get him into the arena to evaluate his power. If Pilthon pushed too hard, they would get a display right here.
“Hopefully, with coin he already possesses,” the owner said, not bothering to look up at the taller man. “If he plans to win it back, I doubt I have games simple enough for him to comprehend.”
To his credit, Sonan did not fly off into a rage at that. “For as diminutively as you present yourself,” he growled, “you speak as if you held some massive advantage I have yet to see. Only a fool makes threats that he cannot back up.”
Pilthon didn’t even flinch. “Excellent!” he cried. “The ogre speaks in full sentences. Does he sing too? Perhaps I could hire him to serenade my customers.”
“He fights,” Delly said quickly before Sonan answered. “Better than any champion that has ever entered the arena.”
PIlthon laughed. “I doubt that. If I wanted a mindless brute for fodder, I’d use an orc. I’m only interested in you. If you aren’t willing to sell your wares, then leave. You’ve caused enough distraction to my customers that you should feel lucky I’m not raising the debt.”
“Enough!” Sonan cried, moving past Delly quicker than anyone would have guessed the big man capable of. Now, Pilthon did retreat, but the barbarian wasn’t attacking him directly. Instead, he stepped up to the bar and slammed his fist down. The thick marble countertop cracked like rotted wood, splitting down its impressive length and crashing to the floor, sending seated patrons scattering. “I have heard enough of your ignorant prattling. You will . . .” His voice cut off as two half-orcs emerged from a shadow wall as if they had stepped through a black curtain. Their arms glowed with magical bracers, and they each clamped onto one of Sonan’s wrists. Despite his strength, he couldn’t fight against the magic from two muscle-bound guards and was rendered momentarily Helpless.
Delly stepped back in shock and found two other attackers, both human, creeping out of the darkness to secure her. They were each smaller than she was, but they Grappled her with a Sneak Attack bonus. She might have been able to fight through one, but not two. “You stupid wench,” Pilthon said, drawing her eyes back to him. “I don’t know what your game was here, but you didn’t think it through. You are mine now, and you will do what I say whether you like it or not.” The shorter man raised his hand toward her, and Delly knew a mind-control spell was coming. Without her rage active, she had no defense against it.
Before the spell hit, the floor beneath her feet shook in a mighty earthquake, and all hell broke loose.