When Khaska awoke the next morning, the sun was shining brightly. Rynn was already up, having eaten some of his rations, and stroking Ranna’s head as the wolf sat next to the ranger, tongue lolling out. The others remained asleep.
The Maha’i cleric glanced over at the bundle he had slept near. Now that the sun was up, and they were no longer in immediate danger, he thought it might be prudent to inspect the sword more. Carefully taking his time, he slowly unwrapped it until it lay on the cloak.
The scimitar was still coated in blood from the combat the night before, both the black blood of goblins and the red blood of him and his compatriots. He used some of his water to clean it off, until the ebony blade was shining and clean. He could more closely read the writings on it now. He ran his fingers near them as he read them under his breath, but still careful not to touch the sword.
“What does it say?” came a voice.
Khaska jumped. He had been so enraptured by the sword that he hadn’t noticed Sanjin approaching. The elf squatted down next to him, glancing the sword over.
“It is an inscription in my native tongue, that of the Maha’i. It says, ‘Kvanir Addhineen Vazhdu Avd’Urziana,’ and it is the name of the sword. Kvanir is just a formal name, Addhineen means ‘dragon’s bite,’ Vazhdu means ‘silver,’ and Avd’Urziana means ‘slave of Urziana.’”
“You were just here on a pilgrimamge, eh?” Sanjin said, a bemused look on his face.
Khaska smiled. Sanjin was a clever one. “We did not lie, though the term ‘pilgrimmage’ does not convey the full meaning of why we have come. It is a long story, but to sum up, this is the sword of Tawru, an ancient hero of my race. It is a cursed blade now, though, and it seems to have driven Kagu mad when the goblin warlord retrieved it from the monastery we came here to find.”
“And that’s why you’re not touching it?” asked Sanjin.
“I know not the nature of the curse,” Khaska replied.
“Well, maybe I can help with that,” the wizard replied, rolling up his sleeves. “Shall I cast Detect Magic on it? Might shed some clues on what’s going on.”
“That would be most welcome.”
Sanjin moved his hands in the required patterns while speaking the arcane words aloud. He concentrated and observed the workings of magic that surrounded the sword, discovering all that he could.
“It has a moderate evocation on it. That means it’s not just an enhanced weapon, there’s also some additional magical affect on it. Without casting Identify, I can’t know what that effect is for certain, and I don’t have the components to cast it.”
“That is quite alright,” Khaska said. “I’ve been thinking, perhaps I’ve been treating it too cautiously. A Knight of the Silver Dragons wielded this sword for decades, and didn’t succumb to its curse.”
“Kagu was already evil,” said Rynn. “Perhaps it just egged him on, so to speak.”
“Yeah,” said Orensland, gingerly touching his head by a large cut where Kagu had struck him, “but did it have to egg him on so hard?” Everybody was apparently up now.
Khaska took a deep breath, and reached down to touch the sword. He gingerly touched it, but could feel nothing as he ran his fingers across the inscription of its name.
“Kvanir,” he said, not sure if drawing strength from actually having the blade, or addressing the scimitar itself. Then he reached his fingers around the hilt and hefted it into his hand.
Two things happened simultaneously. First, he felt himself grow weaker, as if his mind and his body were tired. He felt a little off, a little slower, a little less connected to his God, even!
Second, a voice came into his head with a great force.
Treewind thought he could tame me! You think you can do the same! I will . . .
Khaska dropped the sword on the ground, in shock.
“It spoke to me!” he gasped. “It’s . . .” he did not know the words.
“Ah,” said Sanjin, “an intelligent item. Fascinating.”
“An intelligent item?” asked Rynn.
“The sword is sentient,” Sanjin said. “It has a mind and will of its own. I could find out more, but only after we get to town so I can cast Identify.”
“Oh, about that,” the ranger replied, reaching into his haversack. He pulled out a wand. “We have this wand of Identify. Can you use this?”
Sanjin started. “Why, yes I can.” He glanced around. “Of course, I assume that we’re splitting up the loot from the fight evenly?”
“Yes of course,” said Jenika. She almost took Sanjin’s insinuation as a personal affront.
Sanjin smiled at this and took the wand from Rynn. He had been able to determine which items were magical the night before. A few moments of casting allowed him to determine the various properties of the armor and weapons that Kagu and his lieutenants had been wearing and using.
Upon using the wand one final time on Kvanir, Sanjin let out a low whistle as it began to lightly rain.
“This is a powerful sword. Powerful indeed. Maximally enhanced and with an Unholy enchantment on it. No wonder it had such a deleterious effect on those it struck. Anybody who is good who picks it up will be weakened merely by wielding such a weapon.”
“Then why did I not feel the effects until this morning?” asked the cleric.
“Ah, I said ‘wielding,’ not ‘carrying.’ There’s a difference. Anybody can carry such an item. But if you decide to actually use it, that’s when it affects you.”
“So . . .” said Orensland, “how would we remove the curse?”
“Hrm,” replied Sanjin, “I do not know. Such enhancements are usually permanent.”
“Neither Tawru nor Treewind would have enchanted the sword thusly,” Khaska almost growled at the elf.
“I’m just the messenger,” replied Sanjin, holding his hands up. “Those are the facts about this sword now. I don’t know how it got the way it is.”
“We can discuss it more later,” said Rynn, who was looking at the sky. “This looks like it could be a decent storm, and I’d like to get moving. On the plus side, it will be harder for anybody to track us with the rain.”
“I think it would be wise to continue moving away from the site of last night’s battle,” said Khaska. “We can continue our conversation on the way.”
----------------------------------------
They traveled all that day. Between Rynn’s expertise and, surprisingly, Darmended’s scouting ability, they were able to avoid any goblin patrols or encounters. The rain picked up as they traveled, though, and they spent a very wet night with no fire to warm or dry them.
Slogging through the mud was becoming difficult. It was mid-day when Rynn began to realize that the amount of rain they had received was causing problems. Small trickles of water here or there began to form into actual streams. Puddles became large enough that going around them became difficult. Creeks were so swollen that they had difficulty crossing them. Movement became hampered and they had to go slower than they wanted.
Rynn kept them out of serious trouble, though. Khaska’s minimal training in survival was of little help, the cleric having grown up in the harsh, nearly waterless Niktean Wastes. Keeping to the high ground was a little difficult and out of the way, but better than being stuck in the lower areas, which were much more dangerous.
Cresting one of the hills, Rynn took a look around at the forest. There was a bit of a clearing in front of them, giving him a great view of the surrounding area. It was then that he noticed something in the canyon adjacent to them. There was a group of people, and it appeared that they had been trapped on a small island by rising floodwaters. What was normally a small stream was now a raging river. Rynn pointed it out to Sanjin, who immediately dispatched Darmended to investigate. The bat returned a moment later with a report.
“There’s about fifteen men and women down there,” said Sanjin.
Khaska looked down at his full plate armor.
“I am afraid that if we must swim to aid them, then I will be of little use,” the Maha’i said.
“If it’s up to someone swimming,” said Rynn, “it will be them, and we will just help them once they reach the shore. But I have an idea. Does anybody else have a length of rope?”
“I do,” said Orensland. “Tie two ropes together and shoot it to them on the island, haul them out?”
Rynn nodded. “Let’s go,” he said, and began jogging down the hill towards the stranded people.
From the apparent carts and wagons half submerged in the rising river, it was apparent that it was a mining convoy. Bad luck had caught them in a flash flood as they were coming down this canyon, and they were stuck in the middle of the river, wet, panicked, and without any way of helping themselves. The water was raging around them, carrying sticks, branches, and the occasional tree. Swimming would be very dangerous.
When Rynn leapt out of the woods onto the shore of the river, he was immediately spotted. It took a bit of pantomiming as Orensland tied the two ropes together and also anchored one end around a tree, but eventually the stranded people seemed to get the idea, especially once Rynn fired an arrow tied to the other end of the rope over their head. One by one, the party pulled the stranded people across the raging river. Occasionally one would be hit by a large branch, or be pulled under for too long, but those incidents resulted in bumps, bruises, and fits of coughing, but nothing fatal or too debilitating. The work of pulling the miners through the rushing waters was tiring, but with each successful rescue the work became that much easier as rescued victims became rescuers themselves, and were able to help pull their comrades across the river.
The last one to come across was a dwarf, who came out of the water looking like a drowned rat, his long beard full of sticks and small twigs from the debris, a string of dwarven curses on his face (he had been pulled under for too long for his liking and lost his hat—the indignity of it all). “Tarnations!” He spat out after a coughing fit. “I’ve never seen weather like this, and I’ve lived in Twilight for decades.” Orensland held a hand out and the dwarf took it, coming to his feet from where he had been kneeling, hurling up river water.
Rynn was undoing Orensland’s knot. “Occasionally on the death side you’ll get a flash flooding like this, but yes, it does seem unusual. Now that you’re all safe, let’s get to higher ground.”
The miners knew the area relatively well, since they were only a day and a half’s travel away from Twilight proper at this point, and between their local knowledge and Rynn’s ranger expertise, there were no other problems. The group spent another wet night, but were able to arrive in Twilight the next day. The rain, by then, had finally begun to slacken off, but even getting into the town required them to go around. Luckily, the bad weather seemed to be keeping a damper on goblin aggressions. Nobody was doing much traveling, and that seemed to also be the case with the various other goblin tribes in the area, tribes that the party suspected would still be aggressive. “Kvanir’s influence would not need to be direct to guide the goblins into such actions,” Khaska intoned as he and Rynn led the way the last mile or so into town.
Just then the dwarf came up to them, Belgan Graveldigger. “Well, we’re almost there. I want to thank you again for getting us out of that mess.”
“We were lucky that we stumbled upon you,” said Khaska.
“And now we’re back home, and once we’re inside, the goblins won’t attack us. I don’t know why they’ve been attacking so much of late, or why they won’t attack the town anymore, but, well, it will be good to be home. And safe!”
Rynn thought about that. He remembered something that the goblins had said, back at the camp when they were captured. That the city was protected by a “golden lady.” A lady who flew, and who had cut a deal with Kagu to protect Twilight, but not anything outside of Twilight. He glanced at Khaska, and found the cleric looking back at him. They knew more about the situation, apparently, than even this dwarf who had lived here for years.
Eventually they came to the break in the woods that signaled the edge of town, and, despite having to wade through inches of muddy water in the no-man’s land between the forest and the barricades around Twilight, were able to enter the city in the early afternoon.
“Well, gentlemen,” said Sanjin, “I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to a nice nap! Where’s the inn?”
Mr. Graveldigger was able to point him towards the The Night Owl, and the elf practically disappeared on the spot. Orensland and Rynn looked at each other. Both were not ready to take a break yet; there were things to be done. The shadowdancer patted his backpack. Rynn smiled knowingly. Kagu’s head was in there . . . there would probably be a substantial reward, and Orensland, of course, wanted to collect it. Jenika rolled her eyes at him.
“We must acquire some diamond dust,” said Khaska. “I have been communing with Teresh, and I can restore the strength sapped by us by the wraith, Rynn. We need not seek out a cleric of more capibility anymore.”
“Let’s do that first,” Rynn said. The miners they had rescued were quick to point them to a jeweler who would be able to help them. Orensland and Jenika followed.
The streets were waterlogged, huge puddles sometimes engulfing entire intersections. The town looked even more dilapidated and run-down than it had before in the week since they had left it. The excessive rain had not been so kind to the city, and the fact that so many people remained indoors gave Twilight more of a ghost town feel than before.
Their dust acquired, Khaska and Rynn found an out-of-the-way place in an alleyway where the cleric could cast his Restoration spell. First on Rynn, he liberally sprinkled diamond dust, while intoning a prayer to Teresh. The dust began to glitter with divine power, and then vanished in a sudden, if subtle, flash of light. Rynn felt his strength return and increase. Khaska repeated the spell on himself, and was overjoyed to feel his body returning to its former strength. He flexed his fingers and raised his arms, amazed at how much better it felt to move, how much lighter he felt, and even how much easier it was to move with his plate armor on. The wraith had drained life force, not strength per se, but Khaska just felt . . . healthier. He straightened.
“Now that we are back to full strength, we should tell the town council that we have slain Kagu.”
“I agree,” said Rynn. The ranger led the way to the town hall in the main square. There were hardly any people around, probably still inside because of the wetness and the rain. However, there was a group of goblins in ramshackle huts in one side of the square. Khaska frowned. Apparently none of the good people of Twilight had thought it a good idea to invite Nir and his goblins inside out of the torrential rain. Nir himself came out to see them once they began to cross the square.
“Kagu’s goblins didn’t kill you,” he said. “I thought you wouldn’t make it, so, well done! Thought you were crazy to go out there!”
“Well,” said Orensland, “you don’t have to worry about Kagu anymore.”
Nir’s eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean?”
With that huge, goofy smile on his face, Orensland shrugged off his backpack and reached inside. Out came a large bundle of clothes, pillaged from Kagu’s campsite. He unraveled them and, grasping firmly, held Kagu’s head up by it’s hair.
“We killed him.”
Nir’s jaw dropped, and the goblin stared at the severed head for a long moment before he found his voice again. “You Killed Kagu!” He practically shouted, after his shock wore off. “Kagu is dead!” He began to laugh and cheer, rousing the other goblins in their little shantytown. “Kagu is dead!” He walked closer, still smiling, his crooked yellow teeth sticking every which way as he practically beamed. His cry was taken up by the other goblins, and the began cheering. Nir, however, became more serious as he came closer and as he could see Kagu’s head more readily. “Stormlord’s hand,” he intoned. “What happened to him?” From close up, the distortions and black veins on Kagu’s face, the mutations inflicted on the goblin warlord as Kvanir worked on him were more obvious. Nir glanced at Khaska. “What happened out there?”
Before Khaska could answer, however, Sheriff Vyrdyn appeared on the steps of the town hall.
“What in tarnation is going on here?” he said, walking forward, his sword drawn. The gnome’s face was hard and he looked to be in no good mood. “Nir, you keep your goblins in line or I’ll . . .” The gnome stopped as he saw what Orensland was holding up. “Is that . . .” he paused, a look of wonder flitting across his stern features, “Did you . . .” He took a step forward. “Did you really?”
“It’s true,” said Nir. “This is Kagu’s head. The warlord has been slain!”
Vyrdyn’s attitude completely changed in an instant. He was running up to Rynn and the others, vigorously shaking their hands, slapping his forehead and pushing his hat back repeatedly. The commotion slowly gathered others until finally the town council had the sheriff drag them into the town hall and away from the crowd, despite the cheers.
Two dwarves, an elf, two humans, and a halfling all stared at the group as the cheers resonated from outside. The town council were an eclectic bunch, largely chosen for their perceived strength or wealth or prowess at some trade or another.
“You have done us all a great service,” the elf said. He was an older elf, perhaps not as old as Mirwen, but with slight graying of his hair around his ears. “Tell us, how this task was accomplished.”
Orensland was more than happy to jump in and speak, and Khaska was content to let him do so. The shadowdancer had not been present in the monastery, and so his part in the tale did not include things of which the Maha’i wished not to speak. When Orensland got to the part where Sanjin had suggested that they return to Twilight, one of the humans spoke up. “And where is this Sanjin?”
“I think that he’s at The Night Owl, sir,” said Rynn. “He wanted to mail a letter to his brother and rest a bit.”
“Sheriff Vyrdyn, bring this Sanjin at once!” barked another of the councilmembers. The gnome left hastily, and then Orensland continued.
Five minutes later the elf wizard appeared, with a half-eaten drumstick in hand. “Seriously? Can’t a person just eat lunch in peace?”
“Apparently not when you helped us defeat the goblin warlord,” said Khaska, with a hint of amusement.
“Sanjin was the member of our party who struck the killing blow,” Rynn said. “A spell that put Kagu down for good.”
“We thank you for your assistance in this matter,” said another councilmember, a dwarf. Rynn vaguely had a notion that he was one of the headmaster of the mining guild. “You will all be most welcome to stay at my place and rest. I assure you, I have better accommodations than you will find in our crowded inns. And there is the subject of payment.”
“Payment!” Sanjin’s eyes brightened.
Jenika muttered under her breath. “Can we please not always go right for the money?”
“You are most kind,” said Khaska, “but perhaps we could sleep there this evening. We have acquired several items that we wish to sell.” Khaska then detailed the various things that they had acquired, including the armor and weapons from Kagu (minus Kvanir, of course), his lieutenants, as well as Dag. “We took the armor from the goblins in honorable combat,” he said, “but in exploring some ruins we found the body of a dwarf long-dead. If he has relatives, his armor should be returned to them. I do not wish to be known as a grave-robber. And then there is this,” Khaska pulled out the gemmed gold necklace that Kagu had been wearing. There were sharp intakes of breath from several of the councilmembers. The elf spoke first.
“That belonged to Agamm Rockbiter, a former member of our council. Kagu must have taken it when he slew Agamm.” He glanced at the other members of the council, then back at the party, and then briefly got up to look out the window. “If you wish to sell these items, I suspect you will discover that your killing of Kagu will make it difficult to move about the city. You have attracted quite a crowd.”
Sanjin sighed. “And I just wanted some peace and quiet.”
“Perhaps this is what we should do,” the elf continued. “Go to Master Hirgar’s house, and I will personally go and see what I can do about the spoils of your adventures. If this is acceptable, I will bring you back what coin I can this evening. I assume, Master Hirgar, that I could join you for dinner.”
Hirgar gave a harrumph, but agreed.
“And I will need the assistance of one of your servants to transport the gear.”
Hirgar gave another harrumph, but agreed.
With that, the party found themselves ushered, down a back alleyway, to Master Hirgar’s house. His house was actually a large mansion just off of the town square, kiddie-corner from the townhall, and they were immediately taken to private rooms and given fresh temporary clothes and water poured for individual baths. Dinner was to be in three hours.
Khaska was grateful for the bath, and took advantage of it, scrubbing the dirt and sweat and twigs from his fur. Servants took his armor to be polished, and the cleric fell asleep on the silk sheets.
Rynn did wash his head and hair, but ignored the rest of his body. He was actually washing his shirt in the tub when the butler came to retrieve his clothes. The ranger merely changed into another set of his clothes and then fell asleep on the floor, Ranna serving as a pillow.
Sanjin stayed in the tub until the water grew cold, smiled broadly at the serving girl who came to retrieve his clothes, and read a book from the bookshelf in his room while he waited.
Jenika washed up quickly and brushed her hair, but after changing clothes to the new ones, merely meditated on the bed instead of sleeping.
Orensland changed into the new clothes, made sure that the servants knew he was not to be disturbed until dinnertime, then opened his window, and dropped down to the ground, using his skills to sneak across town. He had a visit to make.
It didn’t take him long to reach where the others from Silderman’s Shadowdancers had made their camp, just by the edge of town, in a small square that used to be occupied by a few thatch huts. (They had been burned to the ground in goblin attacks prior to the siege.) It was a ramshackle camp, but it was serving as home. The troupe was easily able to accommodate different circumstances due to their nomadic lifestyle. Orensland appeared just on the edge of camp and walked right in in.
“Orensland,” said Reven, standing up. “You’re back!”
“I found my friends, and all is well. They returned safely, and Kagu won’t be a problem.”
“You slew him?”
“Well, not me personally, but yes, we killed him. You’ve heard?”
“It’s hard to have not heard. It’s been all over town the past hour or so.”
They spoke about the town and its defenses, and Orensland indicated that he would be leaving with the others from the party. This saddened the shadowdancer troupe, but they understood. The rogue had made much progress with them, but it had been obvious from the start that he was probably not going to remain with them permanently. With Amy and her children safe, Orensland was being called a different way. They agreed to have drinks that evening at The Night Owl, and then Orensland snuck away to get back.
He returned to the mansion about an hour after he left, and came around the corner before releasing his magic. With the sun still hidden, there was plenty of shadow for him to use and ghosting across town had been relatively easy. He wasn’t even sure he would have needed to use his shadowdancer skills to do so. However, in the alley between the town hall and Master Hirgar’s mansion, he did finally get “caught.” It was Nir.
The shadowdancer hadn’t really checked that there was nobody in sight as he rounded the last corner. But there was the goblin leader, voiding his bladder onto a wall. The goblin glanced up at him.
“I have a proposition for you,” he said.
Orensland raised an eyebrow.
“I’m listening.”
“Give me Kagu’s head. I can claim that I killed him, and if I’m leading the goblins in this area, I guarantee you that they’ll leave the town alone. Time we got back to the ‘cold war,’ or maybe even better conditions, than before Kagu flipped his lid.”
“I’ll think about it,” said Orensland, “and talk to my friends and let you know.”
“Very well.” Nir stared at him for a moment. “You just going to climb in the window or something?”
“Yup.”
Nir smiled.
“I knew I liked you.” He turned and left, and Orensland climbed up to his still-open window and hopped back into his room.
He was sitting in the tub when a servant came to announce that dinner would be in ten minutes.
----------------------------------------
Dinner was an opulent affair. It frankly surprised them all to see such lavish food preparations. Master Hirgar spared no expense, apparently. “A little bit of civilization amidst this chaos,” the dwarf said, grinning broadly. He had changed into a nice set of eveningwear, quite formal. The party, with the exception of Rynn, were still wearing the clothes that they had been given while their others were washed. (Master Hirgar assured them that they would be returned later that evening after they had been dried.)
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The elf councilmember entered just a few minutes late. He had not changed his clothes, and seemed amused.
“Councilman Elyon, welcome,” Master Hirgar said. “I trust that you have enjoyed your afternoon. And that you have secured the funds for these good people from their spoils.” Hirgar’s face clearly indicated that he had no desire to dine with Elyon, but Elyon seemed to ignore that as he sat down. The servants brought him a plate anyway.
“I have,” he said. “But no need to ruin such a fine feast with talk of money.” He raised a small bag he had at his side; the clink of coins inside was clear. “I managed to get you a fair price for everything you wanted to sell. Dag had no family that I could locate. One person remembered him from many many decades ago. He was an adventurer, passing through. Your ideals are commendable, Mister Khaska, but I sold his armor as well.
“Very well,” Khaska said. “And what of the necklace?”
“I imagine Agamm’s family would like it back. I am willing to pay a fair price to return it to them. He was a widower, and his children do not live in Twilight. But I could have it sent to them in Tir’Kon.”
The meal was spent mostly in awkward silence, with Master Hirgar going on about how great it was that Kagu was dead, and how that would allow mining and trade to continue as it normally had. He seemed unperturbed as to the possibility of the goblin attacks continuing. “I think we should just post Kagu’s head on a pike out in front of the city and they’ll get the message,” he said.
“I do believe that the council would agree with you,” Elyon said. “The others decided on an amount of financial remuneration. We would agree to the sum of 4,000 gold for Kagu’s head.”
Jenika wondered why Orensland didn’t immediately blurt out “sold!” or something like that. She glanced at him, and they met eyes for a moment. He shook his head, a subtle movement that only she caught.
“And now we can finally kick Nir and his filth out,” Hirgar said. “They can go scurrying back to their kind and get out of our fine city.”
Khaska was slightly disturbed by this.
“Have not Nir and his goblins shown that they were not with Kagu, and helped as they could in the city?” he asked.
“They’re goblins, and I don’t want them here!” Hirgar said.
Khaska decided not to pursue the matter any further. After the opulent meal, which included several courses, finally Master Hirgar retired to his room, biding them all goodnight, and requesting that Elyon show himself out.
Elyon did not, staying for a few minutes to speak with them further. Rynn had a thought, and walked out with him to the front door. They were alone in the front entryway as the others retired to bed.
“Elyon, I have a question that I’m not sure how to approach.”
“Ask away, Rynn.”
“The goblins spoke of a ‘golden lady’ who had protected the city. That was why they did not attack it further, though they would attack people outside the city limits. I was wondering if you knew anything about such a person in your city.”
Elyon pondered on that for a moment as Khaska came out to join them, having overheard Rynn’s question.
“They said she could fly, and that she was very powerful. She made a deal with Kagu that she would not kill him if he would not attack the city,” the cleric said. Elyon was lost in thought for a moment.
“The story you speak of would explain a great many things that have confused me about Kagu’s actions. I am just a simple merchant,” Elyon said. “The gods have been good to me in my business, though not as good as Hirgar, obviously.”
“Greed consumes his soul,” said Khaska. “Eating such food while others nearby are on the verge starve . . . I will not be accepting his hospitality anymore. I might even go stay in The Night Owl as it is.”
“I cannot disagree. I find his tastes too extravagant, and he is not well-liked by the people, though he does run the mining guild fairly and is a good employer who pays even more than a fair wage. But I’d rather have a good meal cooked by Mirwen any day than eat here.” He leaned in close. “To be honest, Mirwen’s food is the best cooking I’ve ever had. When she puts her mind to it, she can do amazing things.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I harbor suspicions that she is more than she seems. I’ve lived here for over thirty years, and in all that time there are enough . . . coincidences, surrounding her, that I’d not be surprised if there was more going on with her than a lifetime of good cooking. I’ve seen her diffuse fights with little more than a few harsh words, heard her wisdom that seem more than a simple innkeeper’s, and seen how good of a heart she has. But there is sadness there, too. What its source is I cannot say, as she is very private, even as she is very free with her interactions with the townsfolk, as you know. I do not know if she is connected with this ‘golden lady’ you speak of, but if she is not, then she would know more than I, and could point you in the right direction. If, of course, she chose to share it with you.”
He leaned back, and began to speak in an open voice. “But regardless, here is your money from the things that I sold for you. You can verify it with the various armor and weaponsmiths if you like, but it’s all there. I swear.”
“I have no doubt,” said Khaska. He then produced the Agamm’s necklace. “Would you return this to Mr. Rockbiter’s family. We would not want to profit from their misfortune.”
Elyon took it reverently, and inclined his head slightly. “You are good people. I swear it will be done.” He straightened and took a deep breath. “But, I’m going to go back to my home to rest,” Elyon said after handing over the sack of money. “I wish you well, and again, thank you for what you have done.”
With that, he left. Khaska and Rynn stood in the front hallway of the mansion for a few moments, both pondering.
“I believe that Mirwen is a gold dragon,” said Khaska, whispering.
“Really?” came another voice. The two of them turned to see Orensland. He had just entered the entryway himself. As per his usual demeanor, the rogue seemed unflappable, the thought that a gold dragon, long thought extinct, might be living in this very town unphasing him. “Perhaps she would have some idea of how to handle our situation then.”
Orensland told Rynn and Khaska about Nir’s offer. They were of several minds about it, Rynn and Orensland not wanting to trust a goblin, Khaska pondering which option—giving the head to the town council or giving it to Nir—would be more likely to create a lasting peace in the area. The cleric did have magic ways of ensuring that Nir was telling the truth, namely a Zone of Truth spell. In the end, it was Orensland who came up with a compromise.
“Perhaps we should have you cast this Zone of Truth spell in a town council meeting. Then the councilmembers themselves can decide whether or not to take Nir up on his offer.” Khaska perked up at that.
“A wise suggestion. One that perhaps, allows us to have our pie and also eat it?”
“Have our cake and eat it too,” Rynn corrected.
Khaska nodded. “Regardless, I would like to go speak to Mirwen about a few things.” Orensland began to step forward, but the Maha’i held up a hand. “I think it would be best if we did not have such a delicate conversation with one she has not yet met. Perhaps it would be best if Rynn and I went alone.”
The shadowdancer stepped back, a look of disappointment flitting across his face. “Okay, but if she’s a dragon, you’d better tell me.”
“My hunch remains to be proved,” said Khaska. He thought of the cursed scimitar and the secrets its story held. “There are many secrets on our world, I’ve discovered,” he said. “Some of them should be kept for good reason. I will not divulge secrets that are not mine to tell.” He turned to Rynn. “Let us go there now, before it gets too late.”
It took longer than expected to get to the Night Owl. Despite the fact that it was late, and still lightly raining, there were enough people out and about that they were stopped multiple times by well-wishers wanting to thank them for slaying the goblin warlord. Eventually, they were able to make his way to the inn.
The atmosphere was celebratory, and the moment they entered they were noticed.
“Hail the heroes!” someone shouted. A raucous cheer rose up and the entire front tavern area exploded in noise. Khaska found that he was assailed on every side by someone wanting to buy him a drink, or have him join them, or tell his tale. He did his best to try to avoid any social engagement by politely declining until eventually Mirwen emerged from the back to see what the commotion was. Khaska managed to lock eyes with her for a moment, and the elf smiled and motioned for him to come over. He and Rynn made their way through the crowd.
“I’m surprised you would come here,” she said, “since you don’t seem much in the mood for social niceties. Food is on the house tonight, however. Wine too.”
“I do not drink and we have already eaten at Councilmen Hirgar’s house, but thank you,” Khaska replied.
“Why did you come here if you don’t want to talk to anybody, and don’t need any food?”
“We actually wished to speak with you,” Rynn said. “But in private.”
“If we might,” Khaska said.
“Ah,” she said. “Come with me.” She took them back to her private quarters, where they had met with her previously, and posted one of her employees at the door to make sure they were left alone.
“Your service to this city was invaluable,” she said, indicating for Khaska to sit on the chair in the sparse room. “Kagu was a menace. I am glad that he is dead.”
“Killing him was more related to my original quest than I had thought,” Khaska replied.
“Did you find success then?” the elf looked at him as she sat down carefully, leaning on her walking stick as she slowly sank down onto the bed.
“More than I expected.” With that, he reached into the Bag of Holding he was carrying with him, and pulled out Kvanir, holding it in its sheath. “This is the sword of Tawru, known as Kvanir Addhineen Vazhdu Avd’Urziana. We searched the abandoned catacombs beneath the old monastery and found Treewind’s tomb, but the sword had been taken from him by Kagu.” He and Rynn together explained the events that happened upon leaving the monastery, their capture, the confrontation with Kagu, and the discovery that Kagu was wielding Kvanir. Rynn made sure that she knew that Treewind’s tomb had been left in good condition, the body and the sacred area treated well upon their leaving it. He remembered that she has been incensed at the idea they would disturb the grave. She seemed mollified by that portion of the tale.
With that, Khaska pulled the sword out of its sheath, feeling the effect of the dark magic take hold of him, his breath coming in short bursts. “Kvanir is now a cursed weapon, and it drove Kagu to violence and bloodlust.”
Slay her! Slay her now! She is weak and deserveth to die! Khaska pushed the voice down in his head.
Mirwen stood up, looking the scimitar over. “May I see it?” Khaska held it out to her, watching her closely as she took it from him. It was heavy enough that he expected her to take it in both hands, as he was proffering it, but she took it by the hilt and hefted it easily. She did not react visibly in holding the cursed weapon, but cocked her head, almost as if listening to it.
Rynn’s brown furrowed. Every time Khaska wielded it, he looked like he was about to be sick. Mirwen hardly flinched.
“I do not understand the language it is speaking,” she said. “Is it the Maha’i language?”
“It is, though an older dialect.” She looked the sword over, and then handed it back.
The sword was silent. Then, almost a whisper. Don’t give me back to her.
“And why do you show me this cursed blade?” Khaska sheathed it, and placed it back in the Bag of Holding.
“Two reasons, though they are related.” He took a deep breath. “While we were captured by the goblins, they spoke of a ‘golden lady’ who had brokered a treaty with Kagu to protect Twilight. It is apparently why the goblins would no longer attack the town itself.” He paused, searching for the words to continue. “We have come to you alone, and promise to keep whatever secrets are shared between us. You are a good and kind person, and have lived in Twilight for many decades. We thought that you might know who this ‘golden lady’ is . . .”
“You are very diplomatic, Khaska of the Maha’i,” Mirwen said, a smile forming on her face as she sat down again. “But you wish to know if I am this ‘golden lady,’ do you not?”
“Well,” said Rynn. “Are you?”
Mirwen laughed, a light pealing laugh that seemed to brighten the room. “You are not so diplomatic, Rynn Fowler. Why would you think such a thing of me?”
Khaska glanced at the floor. “Your interactions with Akle, for one, and speaking with some of the locals has confirmed that you sometimes appear to be more than a simple innkeeper, wielding influence beyond your station in the town.”
She stared at him, her eyes boring into him. “And what are the two reasons you wished to show me this sword, if you think I am more than I seem?”
Rynn noted that she was not actually answering the question. But he was more or less content to watch this conversation play out without pushing really hard.
Khaska swallowed, and found himself looking at the ground. “We brought Kagu’s head back to the city, and both the Town Council and Nir, the leader of the rebel goblins, have requested that it be given them. If to Nir, he promises that he would become the new goblin warlord, and could create a lasting peace. If to the council, to put it on a spike in front of the town gates, to warn other goblins of Kagu’s fate.” He glanced up at her.
“Several of us are reluctant to trust another goblin,” Rynn said, “but Khaska and a friend of ours, recently rejoining us, had a compromise.”
“Go on,” Mirwen replied. “What is this compromise?”
“If you can indeed exercise some influence in the town,” said Khaska, “We would ask that you do so to help us determine the best course of action. I had thought to have Nir swear to his future actions in a Zone of Truth in front of the council, but even so, hatred of all goblins runs deep. Having a further ally to persuade them to accept Nir’s offer, if Nir is sincere, would be most beneficial.”
“And the other reason?”
He kept looking at the ground. If Mirwen was this “golden lady,” that might mean that she was a golden dragon, as he harbored suspicions that Akle was a silver dragon. A golden dragon might know lore about cursed weapons. And so he continued.
“Kvanir is a Maha’i blade, wielded by Tawru since after his fall from grace. He would not have used a cursed blade while he was a paladin. From what I know of his history, it must have been corrupted after he began using it. The name itself indicates this, following the conventions of my people in adding a name each time a momentous event happens in the history of the sword, or its wielder. ‘Kvanir’ is a formal name. ‘Addhineen’ means ‘dragon’s bite,’ and Tawru was famed for slaying an evil dragon before his time with the Knights. ‘Vazhdu’ means ‘silver,’ probably associated with his time with the Knights. Then ‘Avd’Urziana,’ which means ‘slave of Urziana.’”
“And how do you know about Tawru’s life?”
“From the oral histories of my people, mostly.” He hesitated at this next point, but felt that, if he would ask secrets of Mirwen, he should reciprocate in kind. He reached into his backpack, and retrieved the scroll with Likran Treewind’s Final Confession. “And from this, which I have only shared with trusted associates.” He handed it over.
Mirwen slowly reached out and took it from him. She unfurled the scroll and read it, her eyes moving quickly over the words on the page.
“And what does all this have to do with me?” she asked as she delicately furled the scroll back up.
“I know not about how a sword could be cursed, how it could be damaged such, and then how it could be repaired.” He glanced up at her, his eyes conveying the question he did not want to ask. Did she know of such things?
She looked at him for a long moment. A long moment. Khaska wondered if he had overstepped his bounds, somehow offending this woman.
“‘Urziana’ is a devil’s name, mostly likely that of a succubus. If this Tawru was indeed a fallen paladin, one who broke his oaths to become a blackguard, he would have needed to contact an evil being from another plane, an ‘outsider,’ to do so. A devil would serve this function. If he continued to follow the naming conventions of adding a name at a new event in the life of the sword, or of his life, it seems to me that he has left a clue for someone to follow. When he became a blackguard, he added the name ‘Avd’Urziana’ to the sword, for he felt that he was enslaved to this being.”
She continued, handing the scroll back.
“It is entirely possible that, if the wielder were to turn to darkness, an intelligent weapon, such as this scimitar, could be compelled to do so as well.”
“Could the weapon then be redeemed?”
“Yes. If I am correct, then Kvanir’s true personality could be restored, whereas now it is a twisted and broken shadow of itself.”
“How could this be accomplished?” Khaska’s eyes lit up.
“That would depend on how exactly Tawru became a blackguard, and the nature of the spells employed in doing so. The scroll from his friend, Treewind, gave no such details. You would have to find this Urziana to determine how that corruption occurred. For Tawru, the corruption was voluntary. For Kvanir, I suspect that it was not.”
“That was hundreds of years ago,” said Rynn. “Would Urziana still be alive?”
“Devils are long-lived. It is entirely possible that it still lives.”
Khaska perked up. “I have indeed sought out this information from the right person.” His ears then slumped back down to his head. “And we will keep the source of this information in confidence.” He glanced at Rynn, and the ranger nodded.
“Thank you, Khaska. You may tell your close associates about this information, but I would appreciate you keeping its source secret from any beyond that circle.”
“I will do so.”
“Regarding your first point, the situation with Nir, I will come to the town hall tomorrow and help you make your request. If Nir is indeed trustworthy, I too would be interested in a lasting peace in this area.”
“Thank you. I know not what time the council will convene, but will try to make sure that you are informed.”
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Khaska was able to convince Councilman Elyon to call the council back together in the morning, and Mirwen joined them. Nir was also present in the chambers, at the Maha’i’s request.
“Why is that . . . thing, in here?” asked Councilman Hirgar upon entering. He was obviously referring to Nir, whom he was staring at, his face wrinkled as if he were smelling a foul odor. (There was none. Rynn suspected he himself might even smell worse than Nir did, having been in the wild for so long and not having washed his clothes recently.)
“Nir’s presence was at my request,” said Khaska. “I wanted to have the council deliberate between the two options I wish to present.”
“Two options?” said another councilmember. “Who are you to present us options?”
“The ones who slew Kagu the Cunning,” Mirwen said, simply. That shut them all up, and they took their seats.
Khaska stepped forward. “We have the head of Kagu the Cunning. The question is what should be done with the head. The council wishes to display it as a show of force to the remaining goblins, but Nir has another option. Nir?”
“If I am given the head,” the goblin said, “I could use it to take control of the local goblin tribes. I would use my influence to prevent further hostilities. If I am successful, I wish to be allowed on the town council!”
Pandemonium. There were several shouts of dismay and hostility, but not from all of the councilmembers. Eventually they all calmed down that Khaska was able to propose his compromise—the Zone of Truth spell.
“I have not informed Nir of this, and if he does not want to participate, then we will give the head to the council, and be done with it.”
Nir stared at him. “You’re cleverer than you look, my furry friend. I will agree to your terms, even sprung on me as they are.”
Khaska turned back to the council. “Would this be an acceptable way of determining Nir’s sincerity?”
Eventually, they agreed that it was.
Khaska cast the spell in the center of the room, and then put a chair right in the middle. He indicated for Nir to sit in the chair, and the goblin did so.
“You may now question him,” the cleric said.
“Could he not still resist the spell?” asked Councilman Hirgar.
“If he did, I would know. He has not resisted the spell.”
Nir glared at Councilman Hirgar. “Everything I just said was true. If I am given the head, I will make the goblins in this area leave you and yours alone. That’s a state of affairs that you didn’t even have before Kagu flipped his lid and started rampaging through the countryside.”
The town council was, by and large, skeptical. But as they asked questions and interrogated Nir, it became clear to all that he was clever, had a specific plan, and was genuinely sincere in his pledge to attempt to unite the goblin tribes.
Khaska pled the goblin’s case, arguing forcefully that it would be in the best interest of the community to have a goblin leader who was an ally, moreso than any in memory. Councilmember Elyon turned to Mirwen, and asked her opinion. Mirwen stood.
“I am just an innkeeper, asked to come by Khaska and his friends to see if I might lend my voice to these proceedings, as I am a long-time citizen of this city, and have interest in seeing the safety of our town restored.”
Rynn watched Elyon’s reactions, and he was staring at Mirwen intently, watching her, as the ranger was watching him.
“I think it would be in all our best interest to have Nir be given the head. He is sincere, as has been proven, and clearly would be a good member of the town council,” she looked at the goblin, “if his rule of the goblin tribes proved to be as helpful as he promises.”
Khaska looked at the council. “My friends and I thought it be best to let you decide what to do with the head, as you are the leaders of the town. You now have all the information that we can give you, and trust in your collective wisdom.” With that, he bowed, and left the center of the room.
“So the question is whether we should have the head given to Nir, or not,” said Councilman Elyon. “If you don’t care one way or the other, I ask that you abstain from voting. All in favor of giving the head to Nir?”
Four of them voted to give it to Nir.
“Opposed?”
Surprisingly, there were none opposed.
“Four to zero, then, with two abstentions, we will give Nir the head!” He turned to Nir. “We will revisit the issue of you joining the council if,” Elyon emphasized the “if” very strongly, “you are able to create a lasting peace with the goblin tribes.”
“I accept!” Nir said, springing to his feet. “Give me the head, and my goblins and I will be gone from your city within the hour!”
Orensland pulled the head out of his sack (Jenika shuddered) and handed to Nir, who immediately left. The council then disbanded, the matter settled.
Mirwen walked up to Khaska. “Your training in diplomacy has served you well,” she said, “you needed very little help from me.”
“Your help was nonetheless appreciated,” the cleric said. “You have my regards.” He leaned in close. “And you may give our regards to the golden lady, if she exists.”
Mirwen smiled. “If she exists, then I would certainly convey those sentiments to her.” She leaned in closer. A whisper. “And if she existed, I’m sure that she would want to convey her thanks to you and your associates for your assistance to the town that she so obviously wants to protect.” She then leaned back, and began speaking in a normal voice. “But you are all invited for dinner tonight. I will cook.” Rynn was walking up as she said this, having noticed the conversation going on.
“That is a meal that I look forward to tonight, then,” he said. She inclined her head, and then turned and left.
The party collected towards the front of the room, alone now.
“So, she’s the one you think is a golden dragon?” asked Orensland, watching Mirwen leave out the front door.
“What?” Sanjin blurted out. “You know those are extinct, don’t you?”
“There are many things that are not as they appear on the surface,” said Khaska.
“Well,” the wizard said. “You sweep into town and a week later everything is peaceful, the goblin warlord is dead, and you have made allies of all the city people. Tombs and goblins and cursed swords and now hidden gold dragons! It appears to me that you all could use some extra help.” He smiled. “And I’m offering!”
Khaska smiled. Rynn looked at the wizard bemusedly. Orensland shrugged. Jenika rolled her eyes.
“What?” Sanjin continued. “You have someone else in mind to help you with your magic needs?”
“Sanjin,” Khaska said, “I think we would be honored to have a skilled wizard, such as yourself, join us. Come. Let us explain what our next adventure will be, and then you can decide for sure if you would like to join your fate with ours.”
“You already have a next adventure lined up?!”
The group left the town hall just as Nir’s goblins were leaving, their lean-to shanty-town. It was early enough that the town was just coming alive. (Most of the townspeople had celebrated late into the night, and there appeared to be a collective hangover sort of situation.) Khaska pulled away from the group and approached Nir as the goblin chieftain was talking to another goblin, a bigger goblin, with mismatched armor and a wicked-looking sword.
“Nir, I wish you luck,” the Maha’i said, in goblin. “I hope you are able to bring a lasting peace to the area.”
“I hope so too. We’ll know in a week or so if it worked. If I can get a few of the chieftains to begin to follow me, others will follow suit. I have a plan for who to approach first.”
Khaska lifted his head. “May your feet never know injury from the road, Nir of Twilight.”
The goblin paused, unsure how to respond. Then, finally, “Same to you, Khaska.”
The group spent the rest of the day mingling with townsfolk, telling their story, and, in Rynn’s case, helping out with some of the physical work that needed doing. With the goblins gone, the remnants of their stay had to be cleaned up. Those from neighboring towns who had been forced to stay in Twilight for safety’s sake were by and large getting ready to leave. Sheriff Vyrdyn tried to convince them to stay for a few more days, but some could not be deterred. Among them were the shadowdancer troupe, heading out to Tarrin, a hamlet three days travel away. Several of the troupe members were originally from there, and they would be heading back with a group of farmers returning to the hamlet. Orensland was sad to see them depart; even though he knew that the departure was coming soon, it did end a chapter in his life.
However, the shadowdancer was content. Back with his friends, despite Amara being no longer with the group (Jenika had filled him in on the sorceress’ betrayal), with Amy and her family set up with the troupe, and with some wicked-awesome shadowdancing skills, he felt like he could take on the world. With his friend’s help, of course.
In his darker moments, he even felt that he could take on his father.
Sanjin queried them all about what their next adventure would be. They discussed their options while eating lunch at the edge of town, on some old logs, away from the crowds and business of the city.
“As far as the sword goes,” Rynn said, “tracking down this ‘Urziana’ seemed like a next logical step for Khaska’s quest, but the trail is literally centuries old. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“And if you can cure the sword, then you have a witness to your people about Tawru’s fate! Who better to testify than the ancient sword of Tawru himself!” said Orensland.
Khaska paused. The shadowdancer had a point. “You have all been such a great boon to me in my quests,” Khaska said. “But I know that we are pressed for time with regard to meeting up with Lady Maramos and intercepting Kaylee.”
“That does seem like the logical next step,” Sanjin said. “Cultists and dragon worshippers and rogue monks. You guys do seem to find excitement!”
“I would suggest that we be there early,” said Rynn. “We would want to arrive well before Kaylee, to make preparations and get the lay of the land there, so to speak. It will be a dangerous situation, with Kaylee, the local cell of the Cult of Skyrnyn, and Lady Maramos. If we are there early, we might be able to deal with them one at a time, instead of all at once.”
“In the meantime, we should keep our ears to the ground concerning this Urziana,” said Orensland.
Khaska looked at Jenika, who was not participating as much in the discussion. “Portions of this quest are the purview of Jenika, however. As you have all aided me in my quests, now we must all aid her in confronting her monk-sister. But Rynn is right. In Uptide, there will be a confluence of our enemies. We should leave as soon as we can.”
“After our dinner tonight!” Sanjin said. “I haven’t yet really met this Mirwen!” The glint in his eye indicated very much that he wanted to investigate if she really was a golden dragon in disguise.
“Sanjin.” Khaska’s voice was harsh. “We will not reveal or try overly hard to discover secrets that are not ours to tell.”
The wizard frowned and folded his arms. “Is he always this serious?”
“Yes,” Jenika and Orensland replied simultaneously. They looked at each other and smiled.
----------------------------------------
Dinner was promptly after sundown, in a private dining room. Mirwen had spent the afternoon cooking, and the food was absolutely delicious. Again, Rynn had more than he normally would. He knew that he would feel sluggish, and normally just let his body dictate what he ate and how much, but the food was so good he decided it worth the side effects of overeating.
Mirwen was a gracious host, fun to talk to, and had many interesting stories from her years of living in Twilight. Sanjin occasionally asked a question that Khaska thought was aimed at determining her draconic status, but the elf managed to deflect such questions and change the subject so easily that Khaska barely noticed what she was doing. Sanjin didn’t seem frustrated by the deflection, so the cleric let it go.
Rynn, however, did have one question for Mirwen. “Mirwen, during our travels, we’ve encountered a group called the Cult of Skyrnyn. They are dragon worshippers, and from what we’ve been able to observe, they are attempting to free the evil dragons from the control of the Knights of the Silver Dragons.”
“The Cult still exists?” she asked. She seemed surprised.
“Yes,” said Khaska. He explained what of the basics they knew about this cult, and its operations. Mirwen pursed her lips.
“I am old, and remember the news of Skyrnyn’s death. He was the last free dragon on our moon, so it was said, so his death was a momentous occasion.” She smiled, a bit ruefully. “Not that such things were celebrated here in Twilight then, as removed from the world as most of its people wanted to be, but still, we heard enough rumor and news and gossip to know of major goings-on.
“Back then, the Cult was just the worshippers of Skyrnyn the green. After his death, I don’t know what they would have done. It does not surprise me that they have been repurposed, though,” and at this Mirwen raised an eyebrow, “if they think that the evil dragons are in need of rescue, then they are truly deluded.”
“One of them was worried that the dragons would all be slain during the Dark Times, in the forthcoming war against Arkenos,” said Jenika. “After all,” and here the monk paused, knowing that, if Khaska’s suspicions were correct about Mirwen, this next part might be awkward, “all of the good dragons were killed during the last Dark Times.”
Mirwen snorted.
“I’m sure the Knights and their dragons have things well in hand, and will survive the Dark Times. Fifty-four dragons, with such powerful paladins, and with the world’s military at their back. I think we stand a better job of surviving this time than we did last time.” She looked up at the party. “When I was born, the world was still recovering from the last war. The very weather you have experienced here, with that massive rainstorm, is just a precursor to the natural calamities that will come, not to mention the invasion of the Arkenosian forces.” She took a long drink of wine. “I suppose many things are possible, but I am not worried about the Knights and their dragons.” There was long pause. “Not at all.”
The rest of the dinner passed smoothly, and eventually Mirwen thanked them for their help with the city, again, and for the company, and bid them farewell. They were allowed to sleep in the inn that night, the city emptying out quickly enough that there were beds to spare. Even Rynn slept in a bed, the other options being the dirty streets or out in the probably still goblin-infested woods. He was the only one that didn’t sleep soundly that night.
In the morning, over breakfast, they decided that they would need to determine the best way to get back to Gallidus so they could get to Uptide. After inquiring around that morning, it seemed there were a few options available.
The party deliberated about it, and decided that they would wait for a few weeks for a skyship to become available, and book passage on it to Kalavan, a city just on the other side of the Chasm of Endless Night, where they would try to find a way back to Gallidus. They were given a discounted “hero” rate. During the next few weeks they helped around as they could. Khaska spent time with the city council, mostly with Councilmember Elyon, and helped a little with manual labor at a local shrine. He also spent some time praying over the makeshift graveyard that had sprung up at the edge of town, praying with other local clerics and adepts for the souls of those slain during Kagu’s madness. Orensland and Jenika also helped with manual labor, mostly sticking with each other after the shadowdancers officially left. Sanjin mostly hung around the Night Owl, hoping to glean more information about Mirwen. The elf eventually shooed him out during the day, and he grumblingly read some of Master Hirgar’s personal library instead of trying to figure out of the elven woman was secretly a golden dragon. Rynn helped out around town as he could, but was mostly content to work on his bow. He and Ranna did spend some time in the woods, but didn’t venture too far from town. If Nir was successful in consolidating the various goblin tribes that would have splintered in Kagu’s death, it would take weeks to do so. And there was no telling if Kvanir’s influence would remain embedded in the psyches of the goblins, so while the ranger enjoyed the outdoors, he was cautious in doing so.
Mirwen had rations prepared for each of them (“because ship food is not on par with what you might call actual food,” she said) before they left, and they ate well on their trip to Kalavan. The trip itself only took three days, and the port itself was bustling with activity. Paladins from the Knights of the Silver Dragons in groups of two were almost omnipresent in the skyship port itself, lending an air that seemed simultaneously safe and oppressive. As the group approached the entrance to the city proper, they could see that those coming in were all being searched by groups of the Knights.
“What’s going on up there?” Rynn asked a passing pair of paladins. The gnome paladin looked up at him and grunted.
“No weapons allowed inside the city walls. Period. If you want to keep them, you’ll have to send someone in as an emissary to do your business.” The gnome stalked off with his elven friend.
“Hrm,” said Khaska. “It might not be wise for me to part with Kvanir.”
“This Knights in this place have always been a bit overbearing,” said Rynn. “I guess with so many people coming and going it’s the only way to maintain order. I’d like to stay outside the city if possible.”
“You know there are ways of sneaking stuff into the city if we need to?” Orensland said, grinning.
“An unnecessary risk,” said Sanjin. “We need merely to negotiate and find a way to get back to Gallidus. Let’s do so, shadowdancer.” The elf moved towards the gates.
Orensland sighed and then began to strip his weapons off and put them in his pack, which he then handed to Rynn.
“We’ll be back.”
And back they were, a few hours later.
“We want to get to the other side of Gallidus,” Sanjin said, dropping down by the fire that Rynn had kindled without so much as a “hello,” “so there are two ships leaving in the next week or so that could be of assistance. One would drop us off back at Hammerdine, and another at Laishtek. Passage to Hammerdine would be 40 gold. Passage to Laishtek 50.”
“I seem to remember that you wanted to track the pilgrimages of the Peaceful Children,” Orensland said to Rynn.
“They did leave from Hammerdine, and headed south off of the main road. That would be the general direction towards Uptide,” said Khaska. “Through the Martumal forest.”
“If we want to get to Uptide ahead of Kaylee, it might be prudent to head to Laishtek,” said Sanjin.
They discussed their options, but in the end, it was Orensland that convinced them.
“Look,” the shadowdancer said, “we’ve got time to spare. I know we want to be to Uptide early, but it seems like this might be our best chance to track the pilgrimages. Innocent lives may be on the line!”
“I concede your points,” Khaska replied. “As long as we take precautions to be in Uptide before the appointed date, I see no reason to not track the pilgrimages.”
“It’s settled, then,” said Sanjin. “Hammerdine it is, with some walking afterwards!”