The Story of The Stave: Chapter one

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OoC: 100th post!

Rising up above the shattered altar was a figure, familiar and yet unfamiliar. At first it appeared to be a hulking, looming, Ulder'Gein, towering above them. But it did not carry itself as the others they encountered had, this one had a presence about it that was like a hammer to the skull. As the party looked up, anchored to the ground by a mix of awe and terror, they saw that there was something wrong with the creatures head, it was refined and delicate, and strangely familiar. Illith'Hen and Glamrod spoke at the same time,

“Melfdale?”

The face contorted, though whether in anger or pleasure at being recalled none could say. Then booming, commanding voice rang out again, louder this time, the trees shook as it spoke.

“Yes. Even after death itself Lord Drogul still has a use for me”

The creature looked down at the party, the disgust clear in it’s eyes – Melfdale’s eyes.

“Now hand over the stave and” It paused “I was going to say that if you handed over the stave you could go free and unharmed but we all know that isn’t true?” With a flick of one of the huge wrists two trees collapsed, sliced neatly in two by the long claws that adorned the creatures hands. “I suppose you’re going to try and be brave and fight me now, yes? You are so predictable, if my Lord had put me in charge of his forces then this land and the power within would already be ours – I mean his”

The creature sighed. This action often goes unnoticed in people but when the thing sighing is nearly thirty feet high and half as wide, every part of it’s body able to steal your life away with painful ease, it is impossible not to notice and watch on as the mighty shoulders lower a fraction, and the mouth droops a little; allowing the watcher to observe the rows of razor sharp teeth glinting inside the cavernous opening into hell.

“Foul creature! Die Ulder'Gein!” yelled Sadi as he drew his sword and charged headlong at the beast. The others were still standing in shock as he hurled himself at the his gigantic foe, with all the bravery of the world – and all the foolishness too.

[ August 07, 2003, 20:59: Message edited by: Lazy Bonzo ]

 

“Why do they act so strangely?” the Third asked.

“This place is unnatural,” the Second replied. “It and the Stave have affected their minds.”

The warriors followed the others through the wood without seeing any of its perils or its magic. Their armor was untouched by the dryads. The cistern attendants turned away without bathing them in the green fire and they never knew, seeing nothing more than a moss-covered rock and two small shrubs. They heard no voice. But when the cistern exploded and the altar cracked, when Melfdale’s altered form loomed over the group, then did they see and understand. Their blades sang out of their sheaths and they were only half a step behind Sadi’s attack.

“Unnatural, as you said, brother,” Third commented, his twin longswords biting deeply into the giant Ulder’Gein. “The dead should stay dead.”

The Second swung his great sword over his head, blocking a sweep of the creature’s tail that would have flattened Sadi, before replying. “It is good that we are here.”

 

Melfdale paid little heed to the three attacking him, they were an annoyance, nothing more. If he could kill them with little effort then he would do so, but they were not what he was there for.

Stretching forward toward the anchored figure of Illit'Hen the claws on his hand seemed to lengthen, reaching out for the Stave. The three who were attacking him were too busy trying to actually do some harm to him to notice, and the others were easy to control. He was mere inches away from the Stave, when he had it he could do anything. Anything.

It was as he had paused momentarily to gloat that Kale'panir struck. It's charge, and indeed it's very presence, had gone unnoticed by Melfdale but when it struck him full in the chest and sent him reeling backwards clumsily, then the stag filled his whole mind. With an abgry claw he impaled the stag and then, with a flick of the grotesque wrist tossed it away, like a discarded toy at christmas time. Rising once more, kicking and stomping at Sadi and the other two armoured warriors, Melfdale roared.

And was drowned out by a shrill, piercing scream. It had come from Myara. Her eyes burned, in the most literal sense. Flames flicked between her fingers and, as her scream continued to rise in pitch, the trees first bent away from her, then snapped back with deadly force and accuracy to strike at Melfdale.

Vines and roots on the floor twisted around his legs, tightening their hold as the trees continues their assualt. Branches encircled his arms, his body, and as his roar turned to a terrified scream they plunged inside his open mouth. The scream died but the huge form being engulfed and overcome by the forest was still fighting back, it writhed and thrashed as it tried to fight it's way out, but there was no escape.

Though the others had regained the use of their minds and bodies as the forest struck Melfdale, the very act of seeing a forest attacking a giant monster sent them into another state of shock. It was some time after the writhings had stopped and the forest had returned to it's more natural, dormant shape, that anyone spoke.

"See I told you all that Drognur had spirit" said Kibrani. No-one smiled.

 

Thr forest spirits huddled over them, blacking out the wood. When they awoke, the trees were gone and they stood in the middle of the vale they had first seen. A quick pace took them far from the unsettling place.

Something nagged at the back Myrara’s mind as they walked. It slid away when she tried to focus on it directly but she continued to pick away at the half-formed thought, like fingers scratching at a hangnail of their own accord. As they made camp she caught a glimpse of the moon, waxing towards the half when only the day before it had been just past full, and that made everything fall into place. A quick glance with her Sight confirmed the guess.

“Kibrani,” she asked later, having contrived to create a moment of privacy, “why was it that you could hear Droangur’s call to the Stave-bearer?”

“I don’t really know,” she answered after a moment. “Maybe because I believed in the spirit of the wood, when no one else did?” Myrara’s carefully neutral expression made her pause. “You obviously think there’s something more.”

“The wood named Illith’Hen the Guardian of the Heir of Fate, but never spoke of the Heir itself.”

Kibrani’s eyes widened and the color drained from her face as Myrara’s meaning sank in. “You don’t think…” she began, her hands flying to her waist, seeking the moon and counting rapidly. Moaning softly, she sank to the ground and looked up at Myrara with a stricken face. “Ye gods and monsters, I am pregnant… and if you’re right about the rest, what now? Drogul’s been persistent enough in pursuing the Stave – if he learns that I’m carrying the Heir…”

“Start by telling Callain,” The other woman’s smile eased some of Kibrani’s panic. “Then tell the others. If I am right – and we don’t know that yet – remember that we’ve all been brought together for a reason. You’re not going through this alone.”

Waiting for Callain, Kibrani paced to keep herself from screaming. A child. "Heir of Fate," no less. This can NOT be happening to me, not now!"

"Kibrani?" Callain's voice broke her tumultuous train of thought and she ran to his arms. "Myrara said you wanted - " He broke off when he felt her trembling. "What is it?"

She needed to take a few deep breaths before she could answer. "We're going to have a baby," she finally said, meeting his eyes.

"You're sure?" He exhaled deeply at her nod.

"Are you pleased, or not?"

"I don't know. Fatherhood is not something I ever considered. A professional killer doesn't make many plans for the future, you know."

"There's more," she said cautiously. "Myrara thinks the child may be the Heir of Fate that Droangur spoke of."

"Really?" Callain's eyebrows rose but he smiled. "Then I may just have to have a little talk with Fate. No one goes making plans for my child without so much as a by-your-leave."

Kibrani laughed at that, then sighed. "I suppose we should go tell the others."

"Not yet, 'Rani. I want to keep this secret a little while longer." He gathered her into his arms again and she let herself enjoy their warm security, not knowing how long the moment might last.

[ August 10, 2003, 01:20: Message edited by: Rallymama ]

 

Myara clung to the tree with all her strength. It was real, it was solid, it was alive. She trembled uncontrollably, feeling the tremulous void where Kale'panir should be in her mind. His death had pained her, she felt it as surely as if she had been the one to die. He was gone from her mind and her heart, leaving a rift in her power and strength. Without him to shield her, her Visions were chaotic and near indecipherable. Likely they'd drive her insane with time. Myrara shuddered in fear.
"Ancestors help me," she whispered. "My path has faded into darkness and I have no guide to lead me."
She was lost in the darkness, adrift in a stromy sea, and had no hope. But.... she stroked the emerald topping her staff. In the dim moonlight it glowed with a rich green light. Fate's hand was upon her, she was just a pawn in the Powers' chess game. And sometimes.... sacrifices must be made.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sadi murmured in his sleep. The dream was strange, only darkness... and a shaft of light, shining down in the middle of it all. There was figure in the light, Sadi drifted closer. It was Myrara, dancing to a song that an unseen fiddler played. He watched, transfixed. Myrara spun around and around, her face full of wonder, her eyes full of fear.
" I can't stop, I can't stop, " they cried to him. Myrara stumbled, gasped, and clutched her throat. The music played on, and Myrara limped to keep up. Sadi stared in helpless fascination as she twirled, leapt, and dipped. An arrow shrieked out from the darkness and pierced Myrara's chest. Like an exotic silverbird she tumbled from the flight of dance, crumpling into a heap on the ground.
"NO!" Cried Sadi with his mind. And he realized.... "No! Sister..."

 

It is now just a matter of Time… All of the pieces are coming together: the Heir, the Guardian, the Enemy. I will wait and go about my business and watch while each one plays its predestined part, then I will be released at last!

…and these others. There are always Companions, poor pawns, mere flotsam and jetsam caught in a tide that they cannot change. They too have their part, whether they know it or not. Were I not so tired I might feel sympathy for them, but not now. They may someday learn the value of their feeble efforts, how they have been destined to try and try throughout Time but never to succeed.

What is this?! A hand on the edge of Time, reaching in from beyond Forever? There has not been a Challenger since the dawn… What fool seeks to steal my puppets and disrupt my play? WHO DARES TOY WITH FATE?

The sky darkened and boiled with clouds as the storm of Fate’s fury broke over the world.

 

The goblins were toiling endlessly, in the burning sun of day and the chilling light of the moon. They work in an almost frenzy, hardly pausing to rest or eat. Their bodies were shrunken, starved, their bones showing through. Occasionally one would fall, and not rise again; the others stepped over his unfortunate body. The rats would dispose of it soon enough. But their orders must be carried out. Lord Drogul's fury would be harder to face than the strain of the work, and wouldn't offer the release of death the labor did. The work MUST be finished, at any cost.

(since no one has posted, and I can't double post, and I want to add something.... I'll just add it here.)

Myrara woke from her sleep with a start. There was something.... new. She flew up to her feet, looking around wildly. She could feel it inside her, a bond like what she had shared with Kale'panir. Across the camp Sadi stumbled to his feet, face white and drawn. He caught sight of Myrara and took a few halting steps toward her, one hand reaching, his eyes pleading she take it. 'He knows,' Myrara realized.
Sadi stopped a couple feet from her, a bleakness in his eyes as if he'd just seen Death. His hand dropped, and he watched Myrara's face.
"Brother," she whispered, and crumpled into tears as they stepped forward and embraced.

"So tell me again... you're related how?" asked Kibrani, disbelief plain on her face.
"Sadi is my older brother," Myrara said again, patiently.
"But you don't look at all alike... and you weren't, uh, aware you were related... so..." Myrara smiled thinly.
"When I was six summers old, my father took me and my brothers on a sort of journey. My brothers were going hunting, and my father had promised to catch me a song bird to keep. But i got lost, and in fact, nearly drowned in a river. A Kale'jhidohen rescued me, and realized my potential. I didn't remember what had happened, or who I was because of my narrow escape from the river. They said it was because my mind had been in Death, and had forgotten Life.
"Anyway, the Kale'jhidohen raised me, and I became Kale'jhidohen. They look the same as me because of the Sight. It twists us, the magic. When I started Seeing my past, I knew. It showed me everything." Myrara's eyes had gone unfocused as she recounted her tale, and now she looked up, into the faces of them all. "nothing is accident. I know why I was shown my past. I needed to know it because I would be here, thrown together with my brother."
"Still, it's a strange tune Fate's playing," remarked Callain. Sadi could almost swear he heard a fiddle playing in the distance, and shuddered.

[ August 17, 2003, 06:30: Message edited by: Valkyrie ]

 

Three was restless. He was the youngest and most impatient. The path of the sword had been his since he had barely crossed infancy.
He was disgusted with his fate. His twin swords needed sharpening. His armour was dull. The marching wore him. Not the actual deed itself, but the fact that they had to slow down for the rest. He had taken up the lead keeping a far distance from the others. The Unnaturals. It was his fate to kill them. They could not be left to live.

But Second would have none of that. The Unnaturals were now secondary. That much had been clear from the very begining. The staff must reach the Shrine safely. And this they might not achive on their own. The foes ranged against them and the powers reaching for the staff were too powerful. The Unnaturals were needed to safegaurd the staff till the time came when they could finally fulfill their task. But time worried Second.
The woman Kibrani was pregnent. She was a good knife. But now it would be less than six moons before she became a liability. And as he understood, she was to bring forth he whom they had been warned against. With the birth of the Weilder, the forces ranged around the staff would become much more restless. And their task that much more harder.

May be at Shill?th ...

 

Illith’Hen struggled to incorporate the Stave’s new powers into his soul. Earth had been an easy fit, considering his natural elvish bond to the land and his long friendship with Glamrod, but Fire was proving problematic. The line between beneficence and destruction was a thin one with Fire, and Illith’Hen worked to set the barriers he needed to prevent it from bursting into a conflagration. While this went on, the Stave was silent about where it wanted to go next.

Sadi urged them towards Aeroth. He wanted to update the king about Drogul’s army, and get whatever news there was in return. Vaguely recalling some rustic folklore that had risen around an ancient prophecy, he also wanted to consult his library about the Stave, the Guardian, and the Heir of Fate. They needed to know more about what they had been caught in, and in such cases folklore usually held more truth than did history. And there was Myrara… as much as Sadi wanted to just sit with her and talk, to recapture the little sister he had lost so long ago, he knew that she needed to find her way through her Sight and learn how to use her past as a guide for her future. He could only hope that the baby in Kibrani’s belly would give her enough time. Maybe there was something in the library to help Myrara, as well.

Almost a week had passed before he finally emerged from the library and met the others for dinner at their inn. As an advisor to the king he was able to secure a semi-private alcove. He brought several sheets of parchment closely written with notes; he didn’t mention them while they ate, but the small talk finally ran out and he had to raise the subject.

“There wasn’t much to be found. A hint here, and oblique reference there… it seems that most of the peoples to keep this story followed the oral tradition and never wrote it down. Perhaps someday my duties will allow me to – but I digress,” he said hastily, noticing Kibrani stifle a yawn. “As you were told, the Stave is a branch of the Tree of Fate. Legend says that it comes into the world only when it is time to find the Guardian. At each of the four Great Woods, it is imbued with the power of the elements so the Guardian has all the power of nature at his call to protect the Heir.”

“Fate’s not strong enough to protect her own Heir?” Glamrod grumbled. “Seems to me that Fate should be able to do the job on Her own.”

“What does an immortal being need an Heir for, anyway?” Illith’Hen asked.

“Fate’s not exactly immortal,” Sadi answered slowly. “The idea of Fate is eternal and self-perpetuating, but the first being to pull the strings was taken from the ranks of mankind. Since Fate exists partially outside of Time, the lifespan is almost uncountable – but it is finite, and every so often She wants to, uh, retire, I guess, so She chooses an Heir. It’s the Guardian’s job to make sure the child is born and safely delivered to Fate’s care.”

Kibrani folded her hands protectively over the small bulge in her belly. “Is there any way to break the chain, once Fate has made her choice?” she asked. She looked as though she were about to be sick, and Sadi couldn’t bring himself to tell her what he had read about what Fate had done to the women who tried to defy her and keep their children. She made sure that it didn’t happen often.

“There may be one chance,” he said. “Sometimes an Enemy arises, one who wishes to take Fate’s throne by force. I’ve no doubt any longer that that’s Drogul’s plan. You may be able to escape their notice as that battle is fought.” Kibrani could read in his eyes just how improbable that was, and she had to look away.

“Does the Enemy ever win?” Glamrod asked.

“Sometimes. I think such victories have preceded times of great strife in the world throughout history. Then the Stave finds its way to a Champion, who restores order and renews the cycle.”

“So, no matter what we do, we’re still Fate’s puppets?” Callain’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he frowned, and he reached for Kibrani’s hand. “Can’t say I like the sound of that at all.”

The sound of a fiddle playing a mournful air fell into the silence around the table.

[ August 20, 2003, 13:52: Message edited by: Rallymama ]

 

Sadi was a fool.

As soon as Second and Third heard him trying to get the group back to Aeroth, they perked. At Aeroth as soon as they were dismissed Third went in search of the other triad which served in the palace battalion. Second retired to contemplate their course of action.
He had to plan for each one of them.
Callain & Kibrani, Illith'Hen & Glamrod, Myrara & Sadi.

Callain was a skilled assassin and a former vampire. Stealty, crafty and deadly originally, did he still have some of his vampiric powers?
Kibrani was a thief too and skilled with the daggers, but did being the Weilders mother give her some unknown powers?
Illith'Hen might be skilled with the bow but was weak and confused with the new powers of the staff. Then again the staff was not to be trifled with.
Glamrod was just a dumb unskilled fighter. He might be strong but was no match for their speed.
Sadi's powers were no surprise for them. The other triad would know well enough how to deal with him. Then again his connection to Myrara was worrying.
And finally Myrara. She totally depended on her magical powers which were considerable indeed. And would her sight penetrate his thoughts?

Their knowledge of the magics were extensive enough to to render them immune to most magics but this current situation was nothing like they had ever faced before.

Second sent the next Second to spy on the group and give advanced information of their plans. If the group did not set out soon then they would have to raid the inn, something he would rather not do. Too many witnesses. Then again the Staff was all important.

 

When Kibrani fainted in the marketplace, Callain felt real fear for the first time in many years. The elderly shopkeeper chuckled at his reaction as his wife helped Kibrani to a chair and fetched her some water.

“This is your first child, isn’t it, m’boy? Get used to it, pregnant women do these things. Just make sure she eats enough, and your wife will be right as rain.”

Callain was thinking hard as he completed their purchases, and he’d made up his mind as he led Kibrani out of the crowded market and to a shady spot under a spreading chestnut tree in the square. She started to protest but her words died when he began wrapping a length of red ribbon around their wrists, binding her left hand to his right.

“The shopkeeper called you my wife, Kibrani, and I want that to be so,” he explained. “Fate brought us together, and if She thinks my part is done and I’m going to fade away now that you’re pregnant, She’s got a surprise coming.” Her smile was all the answer he wanted, and the words of the ancient ritual came easily to his lips:

“Above us the stars
Below us the stones
As Time doth pass remember...
Like a star above should our love be constant
Like a stone below should our love be strong
Remember to weather the threatening storms
They pass ever quickly and wash away wrong
Make love ever often as we both so desire
The world may grow cold but can freeze not our Fire
Be us close although separate
Tho’ ever together
Each possessing the other thru Will not thru Law
Strengthen each other the length of our union
The God and the Goddess are with us Always.”

“It is my wish to become one with thee, Callain,” Kibrani whispered.

“It is my wish to become one with thee, Kibrani,” he replied. They spoke the final blessing together:

“Then as Above so Below
As the God and Goddess are One
And the Old Ones witness this rite
We are now proclaimed Husband and Wife!”

Third watched them embrace from the other side of the square. He was sure that the celebration that would happen at the inn tonight would provide excellent cover for Second’s plan.

What he didn’t know was that other plans had also been set into motion.

 

Myrara felt her energy draining away, and every time she tried to regain it, she got back less and less. It was never at full power, and she felt drawn out, taunt. Her head ached with the void left by Kale'panir's death, and spun with the chaos of her Sight. The others didn't know. She was alone in this struggle, which frightened her. However, Myrara did not want to reveal her weakness to the others. She wanted to trust them, but her instincts said no. She always listened to her intincts, for they had never steered her wrong. Discovering Sadi had given her something to anchor to, but the tie was weak, and didn't help much.

Myrara shivered despite the warm sun on her skin. The Sight was dangerous, uncontrolled, but no one in the group could understand it, let alone control it. Myrara couldn't, not without help. There was nobody, save perhaps Iliith'Hen who would be able to help. Myrara swallowed hard, against the lump of terror in her throat, and went to find the nearest apothecary for herbs for her headache.
**************************************************
Rracaw circled, bright eyes on the nesting pair of two-leggers as they walked through the city. They were the most important. The others... he needed to watch them, but not as closely as these two. The shorter one... the one built slight, like a falcon to her mate's hawk... She was the most important.

Rracaw wheeled, catching a current of air to the left. There was the other female, the one who showed spinning on the inside. His master told him to watch her too, watch the spinning. If it sped up, he needed to know.

The other three. The three other males. They were over to the side, and up a little. The tall, thin one, the one that was like a swift, was very important too, almost as important as the nesting ones. Rracaw liked to watch him. He shone, like one of the dark-sky lights. And he glided, as much in flight as you could be when you didn't have wings. The two left weren't so important.

But Master said to watch them all...
****************
Iliith'Hen was concerned. He'd escaped the group long enough to think and he finally realized what it was that shook him so. The city made him uneasy, as if he was being watched. Well, he amended in his thoughts, by something other than a bird. He looked up again, at the circling eagle. It was always there when he looked up, and he could see (with his sharp, elven eyes) that it watched him, and the group. He was also concerned because the Stave was quiet in his hand, and hadn't stirred in a while. He didn't know what that meant.
And on top of all of that, he could sense an imbalance in Myrara. She hadn't said anything, but he could feel her worry. What are we going to do? he wondered tiredly, I can't stay in this city much longer, but then, we have nowhere else to go. And the Stave won't lead me... Iliith'Hen sighed, and started heading back to where the rest of the group was.

[ September 02, 2003, 04:20: Message edited by: Valkyrie ]

 

I’m baaaa-aaack! …and it’s time to jump-start this puppy, I see!

ps to Valkyrie - "the nesting ones" - I like that! R.

Having several hours to fill before the others would return to the inn, Kibrani and Callain decided to spend it the same way that most newlyweds would. Opportunities to indulge their physical passion were few while traveling – the obvious cause of Kibrani’s pregnancy notwithstanding, and contrary to Glamrod’s continual stream of crass innuendo – and even when they could make love the configuration of the camp and respect for their companions demanded a certain level of discretion and restraint. They’d gotten to truly know each other, instead, developing an intimacy that went deeper than the simple pleasures of the flesh and made those pleasures far sweeter than they otherwise might have been. Still, a clean bed behind four walls and a door that could shut out the world was not something to be neglected. Kibrani was an ardent lover despite the discomforts of early pregnancy, and Callain was aroused by her heightened sensitivities and the new lushness of her body. They reluctantly decided to meet their friends when sunset brought a chill to the sweat-damp sheets. Callain carefully re-bound their hands with the red ribbon.

It seemed that the entire common room of the inn wanted to join their celebration. Two of the serving-wenches even insisted on dragging Kibrani away, to “outfit you as befits a bride.” A warning prickled at the back of her mind but, amid the others’ laughter, she let the girls lead her to a small room across the alley from the inn’s kitchen. It was hot and dim and filled with an acrid smoke that made her head spin as they replaced her shirt and breeches with a traditional bride’s dress and wove flowers through her hair. The embroidered bodice was too snug for comfort and the full skirt tangled around her ankles when she tried to walk. Several more girls were waiting outside when they led her out, raising the warning in her mind again. It jabbed at her sharply when they turned away from the inn.

“Wait,” she protested, trying to drag her feet against their pushing hands. “My friends are back there… where are you taking me?”

“To the temple, of course,” one of the girls answered. “Surely you know that all brides are consecrated before they marry?” But Kibrani had spent enough time in the city to know that when they turned at the end of the alley they were headed away from the temple district, into one of the poorer residential districts. She thought she saw eyes down a narrow side street, too large to be street urchins but too close to the ground to be adults, and the scratching of the warning in her mind cleared away the lingering effects of the smoke.

“Stop, please… really, this isn’t necessary… I want to go back…” But the crowd of girls continued to hustle her along the street, until her anger snapped. “ENOUGH!” she shouted. “Leave me alone!”

To her surprise, their hands fell away from her and they stepped back. She reached for her knife as she edged towards the wall, cursing vehemently when she realized that it had been taken along with her clothes. The girls watched her as she backed away, returning to the main street, but they didn’t move. Wishing that she had some kind of weapon, she rubbed her hands down her skirt to dry her sweaty palms and discovered a weight in a pocket she hadn’t noticed. It turned out to be a twin to her own knife, perfectly suited to her hand, sharp and well-balanced. “Don’t follow me,” she ordered, holding it before her. Suddenly she gathered her skirt in her other hand and ran as fast as the restrictive dress would allow. She reached the main door to the inn without hearing pursuit.

She tried to ignore the incident and enjoy the party, squeezing Callain’s hand as he tied the lovers’ knot for the third time, but her laughter was forced and her gaze kept darting around the room for signs of the wenches, until Callain had had enough. “Do I have to be jealous that my wife of a mere six hours keeps looking at everyone other than me?”

Kibrani sighed and explained what had happened, showing them the knife. Glamrod pushed away from the table with a snort and stomped out the back door of the inn, returning a moment later with her clothes. The knife sheath was empty.

“They obeyed you, without question?” Sadi asked. “And you felt as though you were being warned of trouble?” When Kibrani nodded at both questions, he shook his head slowly. “Seems to me that the Heir has more ways to protect itself than we knew.”

[ September 02, 2003, 21:32: Message edited by: Rallymama ]

 

Rallymama: thank goodness youre back! I was worried this would die! It's been nearly a week after I posted my bit, and then I came back on to edit more in the other day. I thought everyone'd gone.

I'm going to let a few more posts collect up before I write again. If there are no new posts in a few days, I'll write then.

 

OOC – Since Lazy Bonzo hasn’t been around, I’ll try to do his style justice in this first part, but I doubt I can pull it off with the proper dry English aplomb. R.

”Fool! Pathetic excuse for a goblin! Twice you’ve tried to capture one measly human female – a small, weak female! – and twice she’s eluded you. If you fail me a third time – no, never mind. From now on you will only watch her, and report to me. I will bring her in, myself. She’s too important to be left in your clumsy hands.”

If it were possible for green goblin-blood to make grey goblin-skin turn red, Snarskall would have blushed at the memory of that conversation with Lord Drogul. But since embarrassment wasn’t part of the usual goblin emotional make-up, he settled for muttering angrily as he stomped down the alley, randomly kicking at piles of human trash. He didn’t mind that a few of those piles turned out to be his men. Regret and apology weren’t high on the list of goblin feelings, either.

“Get up, you lazy sods! Keep a watch on that inn. When those filthy humans move, so do we.” None of the other goblins thought it wise to remind Snarskall that there already was a watch on every exit from the inn. “Be ready.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that night, even Kibrani – alley-cat that she was – wanted to leave Aeroth as soon as possible. She understood why the others closed ranks around her, and even reluctantly agreed that it was necessary, but the constant companionship was smothering her. If she wasn’t as familiar with the dangers of the open road as with those of the city, at least there were fewer places for enemies to hide. The lack of freedom might not bother her so much out of town, where there wasn’t as much to be missed.

However, the staff was still silent in Illith’Hen’s mind. His command of fire still wasn’t the best – was it waiting for that to be resolved, before adding the next element into the mix? Did it matter which came next? He shook his head angrily. He was tired of being a slave to this thing. They had to get back onto the road; they couldn’t wait any longer. The coming birth of the Heir marked a very real deadline, and there was no time to waste.

But where to go? Which should be next, Water or Air? And which of the Great Woods would be their destination when the choice was made? What was the best path between those Woods and Ykl, where the Tree of Fate waited? Perhaps that was the way to choose – the shortest path?

Illith’Hen shook his head again, a lick of anger clearing out the confusion. He felt the eagle above him again and didn’t bother to look up. Air – they had an eagle to watch them so they’d follow the path of Air. With that decision, an image came to him: Shill’th was their destination.

p.s. – Now you don't have to edit your stuff in, Valkyrie. I won’t be around over the weekend. See y'all on Monday!

 

Second was furious. They had missed the party at the inn. It had been a perfect opportunity to get them all together. But when Third had returned from his post saying that Kibrani was missing, he had paniced. The weilder was more important than the stave. They had searched the city before realising Kibrani was back in the inn.

But the search had not been in vain. They had found that they were no longer alone in their pursuit of the stave. For a short time the eagle had been searching the skies too.And there was the distinct trace of goblins all around the city.

Finally they caught one of the goblins and took him back to their base. The goblin talked, a lot. And he gave them his orders. The goblins were to keep an eye on the group till they set out again. This was not good. The goblins were too spread out for them to take them all out quickly enough without arousing suspision.

There is only one thing to do. Get the group out of the city and wait for the goblins to follow them. When the goblins attacked, they would have a nice surprise roaring over their heads. But the eagle. What was to be done about it? He was not sure an arrow could fly fast enough to reach a favourite of the Dark Hand. Maybe ha needent solve that problem.

Sadi was a bit taken aback when stopped by Second. He had been on his way to the palace libraries. Second asked to accompny Sadi some way.

"Sir, are you still interested in that group of travellers?"
"Why do you ask soldier?" It was funny. They had travelled together for so long yet did not know the man's name.
"I believe these people have brought their troubles to Aeroth with them."
"What do you mean?"
"Goblins, Sir. Goblins in Aeroth. We found some in the streets and alleys near the inn where this group is staying. I fear there are others around the city waiting for these people to move. We might be able to keep them safe for some time, but not for long. The travellers better be on their way out. For Aeroth's sake."

 

OOC: School has started again, and even before my free time was drawn short, but having seen Rally's 'tribute' (if that is the word) and her comment about me not being around I decided to prove that I'm still alive. Admittedly I feel that what I've just written seems to be lacking something I will post it anyway. LB


The goblin scout peering keenly into the shadows only saw his attacker after his head had rolled into the gutter. His watch had been diligent, and in completely the wrong direction. His head took a further journey to the Inn, the very same that had been the target of his gaze. The severed head made it’s way through the streets hanging from his killer’s hand by his grimy hair. The doors of the Inn opened ahead of it and all of a sudden the world was spinning.

A hush descended upon the Inn as the hooded figure strode forward, only those closest saw the head he carried. Striding through the press of people the figure looked on at the dancers from the edge of the cleared circle. As Kibrani and Callain twirled past, the hand with the head dangling from it came up.

The spinning would have given the goblin a dizzy feeling in his stomach, had it not been separated from the tumbling head. As the spinning slowed and finally stopped the dead eyes stared into Kibrani’s. She suppressed a scream, but an involuntary yelp still left her lips.

“You must leave Aeroth.” said the hood, and then, unnecessarily, added “Goblins are within the city.”

From groin height came the gruff voice of Glamrod, “And who are you to tell us what to do and where to go? We are simple travellers–“

“Now we both know that isn’t true” said Sadi, pushing back his hood. “You must leave, Aeroth can not give asylum, nor protection, to you. A horde of goblins hidden within our walls is not something we can overlook. My former bodyguards, the two that remain, shall travel with you, but that is all that we can do for you.”

While the others in the Inn dispersed, having realised that the celebrations were over, the rest of the party gathered around, with the exception of Myrara. Just before Sadi had entered she had been struck by a sudden and painful headache.

Having made her way upstairs before Sadi had entered she was unaware of the commotion downstairs. Her headache worsened. It seemed that her head was being split open, from the inside. Tossing and turning as she sought sleep on her bed she tried to fight the pain. Clutching at her head she writhed and rolled off of the bed onto the floor. The music downstairs had stopped by now, but details such as these were brushed aside by the intensifying pain. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound emerged. The mixture of her exertions and the pain that caused them eventually brought a sort of sleep.

 

What is this? What bug flits between me and my Heir? So yet another interloper tries to interfere with Fate! This cannot be allowed! My Heir must come to me, as ordained! I need another tool…that one will do nicely…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Please, Sadi. Help me find a way to keep my baby. Please.”

Kibrani’s plea rang in Sadi’s ears as he stalked back to the palace. She had caught his arm before he could leave the inn, and the naked desperation on her face shocked him. The nonchalant mask she usually wore was gone; she was plainly terrified by the prospect of the child being taken from her. He had shaken her hand away, but now her eyes burned before him as he tried to work through the piles of correspondence on his desk. His first duty lay to Aeroth and the King, and had gone neglected for too long.

But wouldn’t Aeroth be safe once the party was away, taking the goblins with them? And wasn’t the best way to protect his city to discover Drogul’s purpose and thwart him before it could be realized? There was no better way to do that than to remain with the group, and if he was going to be with them there was no reason that he shouldn’t try to help Kibrani…

Rubbing his eyes with a sigh, Sadi pushed back from his desk and picked up a candle. He was sure of only two things: that he faced a sleepless night in the library, and that tomorrow’s day of travel would be a long one.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“So here we are again. Feels like we’re back where we started.”

Callain raised an eyebrow at Glamrod’s comment. He thought of everything that had happened since he had met this strange pair – a bout with vampirism, torture by goblins, companions met and lost, now pending fatherhood – and wondered if the stone that filled dwarven hearts extended to their heads as well. Was it strength or stupidity that insulated Glamrod from the changes everyone else was experiencing? Maybe it was something in the basic nature of soldiers, as Second and Third didn’t seem to feel anything, either.

Callain was almost ready to let himself be happy. He had to find a way to leave his past behind, once this business with the Staff and the Heir of Fate was over, so that he and Kibrani could go somewhere and just live. It didn’t seem like much to ask, but he’d been Fate’s agent – dealing out death whenever someone paid his price – long enough to know better than to take the simple act of living for granted. Now the price was on his head instead of in his purse, and no matter how willing she might be, the last thing he wanted to do was drag Kibrani down that dark path.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Myrara trudged along dully for most of the day, lost in a mental haze that mirrored the overcast day. She perked up suddenly in the late afternoon as she stepped across a puddle of sunlight on the path, a shaft from the setting sun that broke through the clouds. The spinning in her head hadn’t stopped, but it had changed. Suddenly the center was no longer a hole that drained her energy away, it was an anchor as bright as though the ray of light had taken root in her heart. The spinning wasn’t random any more, it was a figure dance as elaborate as any ever woven about a Maypole. If she could follow it, she just might be able to find her way to solid ground.

That’s right, my dear, take my hand and let me lead you. I’ll help you now, and when the time comes you’ll be the one to earn my favor… Come…

 

Upon arrival among the goblins, Ragnar’s first action had been to locate Snarskall and berate him. Unlike there common master, Drogul, Ragnar did not shout at Snarskall. He didn’t even appear to be angry, he didn’t need to. The demonic blood that flowed in his, otherwise human, veins lent him certain aids. Snarskall had been frozen upon seeing Ragnar. However not by shock or fear but by a crushing force on all sides of his minute body.

Ragnar did not need to use words to communicate, a hybrid form of telepathy, albeit painful to the recipient, not that that mattered to him, was at his disposal. Another gift from his diluted demon blood. His communication with Snarskall had been one-sided, however he had paused after every statement for it to sink in – Ragnar believed everyone inferior to him, everyone save Drogul. Drogul he considered an equal.

"Worm!

Your filth was found and taken.

Surprised? Surprised that I know of this? Surprised that Drogul knows of this?

Drogul is most upset. Most upset indeed. Your constant failures may be a hallmark of your race, but you were put in charge because, in a moment of weakness, Drogul thought you were capable of carrying out his orders. Quite clearly he was wrong. Wouldn’t you agree, filth?

As of this moment you are nothing. Nothing. I would take your life, if it were actually worth the minuscule effort that I would need to do so. You are not even worth that much, just another one of your whole stinking, foul plague. Race is too much of a pleasantry for you and your kind. Species isn’t even in your vocabulary.

I, Ragnar, first herald of Drogul, am now in charge of this measly horde of foul smelling failures. Now go and join the rest of your filth, goblin. "

Snarskall skulked off plotting revenge, he only made two paces before a searing pain swept through his mind, leaving the message “Don’t even think about it, filth.” The broken goblin scurried off clutching at his skull.

Although he was deliberately suppressing the thought, he would have revenge upon Ragnar. Men had taken the goblin lands before, ordered them before, enslaved them before. But before Snarskall had not been there, and this time would be different. The goblin race would be great again, thought Snarskall. The pain that raced once more through his mind nearly set his skull on fire.

 

Let me just interject here.

This is one damn long chapter.