"It's started! The terror… it's
coming for Kellonville. We must evacuate!"
The scaled beast's lifeless body had
barely reached the ground when Tarrow Sharn watched Ben Arons, the round
middle-aged man push his way through the doorway of the tavern. The man's
trembling voice rang out amid the silent crowd's terrified glances. "I
know of a place we can hide- it will keep us safe! We must go! Now!"
The crowd, silent and fearful during
the battle, was now beginning to rally together, voices yelling out
proclamations of imminent doom and lost hope. Mothers were grabbing their
children, men scrambling to secure belongings and gather weapons. Before long,
the village voice was unanimous: Destruction was coming to Kellonville, and Ben
Arons was their only hope.
Tarrow knew it was typical mob
mentality. One minute the people are accusing him of witchcraft, and the next
minute they were hailing him as their own savior in the face of a greater evil.
If someone didn't step in soon, this was going to escalate.
Tarrow took a quick moment to wipe
off his falchion, still gleaming with dragon's blood, on the inside lining of
his cloak. Sheathing his sword, he quickly squeezed his way into the crowd next
to Telstedler, the half-elf man that led the meeting, and put a red hand on his
shoulder. "I suggest you take control," whispered the trystborn.
"An excited crowd never makes wise decisions."
The man seemed taken aback by a
stranger offering him advice at such a time, but he must have deemed it sound,
because he stepped onto a nearby barrel, and cupped his hands around his mouth,
shouting to the townspeople.
"People of Kellonville, listen
to me!"
The noise died down, though did not
subside entirely.
"We will reconvene the town
meeting in ten minutes time. At that time we will decide our next course of
action. We will make no action as a community until then. I repeat, we will
make NO ACTION until then."
Telstedler stepped down from the
barrel, and the crowd began to disperse, still talking amongst themselves.
Tarrow found the woman he had
rescued from the beast's clutches kneeling at the edge of the square, eyes
closed, holding on dearly to a pendant around her neck. He crouched next to
her, extending his hand.
"Are you alright, madame?"
She opened her eyes, and met his.
She nodded, taking a deep breath. "Thank you," she began. "I owe
you my life. My name is Jael, priestess of Azimuth."
She took his hand and Tarrow helped
her to his feet, and felt a tap on his shoulder. Behind him stood Tarrow, Fru’al,
Grash, and Sanna, who were stowing their own weapons. "The beast is
dead," began Grash. "We have just confirmed the kill. Sanna completed
a quick circuit around the square, and there do not appear to be any reinforcements."
"Good work. I recommend
we-" Tarrow was interrupted by another tap. Telstedler stood, with Ben Arons
at his side, a stern look on his face.
"If I may have a moment of your
time, I'd like to speak with you and your companions."
He led them back inside the Rusted
Drake, and up the sturdy wooden stairs. A long hall extended from the top
landing, with several doors on each side. The half-elf opened the first door on
the right, behind which was a tidy, modestly-appointed office. An aged desk sat
with stacks of neat papers, a quill lay next to a closed bottle of ink, and a
hand-sized clay representation of the town's mill stood near the edge of the
desk. Against the far end of the wall was a worn cot, neatly made, with a chest
of drawers and a covered chamber pot beside it. One window looked out across
the town square and the river beyond. Telstedler walked around and sat on the
other side of the desk, and Ben Arons stood off to one side.
"I'd first like to thank you
for saving my town and its people," he began. "My name is Charles Telstedler,
and I am the owner of this tavern- and some call me the mayor of Kellonville.
I'm sorry you had to pass through our town on such an occasion, but again, I
earnestly thank you for risking your lives."
Ben shifted his balance, looking
uncomfortable by the meeting. Telstedler continued.
"This is Ben Arons, a local
handyman. As I'm sure you gathered, strange things have been happening as of
late. There have been unexplained fires, ruined crops- under circumstances
unlike anything we've ever seen. I'm sure most of the people in this town only
had the vaguest idea of what a dragon was, let alone ever had to fight one off.
If it weren't for you… well, I'd rather not think of what might have
happened."
Telstedler paused. Tarrow, standing
with the rest of the Horselords, studied his mannerisms. The man looked
uncomfortable. Perhaps he was waiting for something, but it seemed even he
didn't know what. After a moment, he continued.
"I guess my point is this:
Something is behind all of this. Ben, here, has a plan for how to proceed, but
to be perfectly blunt, I don't put any stock in dreams or prophecies."
"But it's true,"
interrupted Ben. "I swear, Charles, I had dreams that predicted all of
this. The fire. The frozen crops. And now, this dragon attack. Lyria told me
what was going to happen, and she told me that everyone will be safe if they
follow me!"
Telstedler looked tired, and
frustrated with Ben's words. "Please, Ben, tell us what your dream told
you to do."
Ben nodded and stood up straight, as
if feeling like he was finally getting the proper recognition for his position.
"Lyria took me once to a cabin in the woods to the north, where she lived.
It was small, but she told me in my dream that I was to lead the townspeople
there. If I led them there, they would all be safe."
Telstedler rubbed his temples, once
again looking weary. He turned to Tarrow, his brow furrowed. "I have a
request to make of the five of you. If I don't tell the people that we're going
to evacuate the town, I'm likely to be facing an angry lynch mob. I'll
understand if you want nothing to do with us and be on your way, but… would the
five of you be willing to go on ahead of us, and make sure that we aren't
simply walking blindly into some sort of a trap?"
The Horselords looked amongst
themselves. Sanna, Grash, Fru’al, and Artemis looked to Tarrow, following his
lead. Seeing the knights' hesitance, Telstedler began again. "I only ask
this of you because of your prowess in saving us from that dragon. We get few
outsiders here in Kellonville, and what few we do get are almost always
adventurers, looking for fame and fortune. If you are willing to do this for
us, I am sure I would be able to open the town coffers to reward-"
Tarrow cut him off.
"Mr. Telstedler, sir, if I
may," he held up a hand, stepping forward. "As much as we would love
to accept a reward for aiding your town, I am afraid we will do no such thing.
My men and I are not mercenaries, whose services can be bought or sold, nor are
we looking for fame or fortune. We are simply a group of travelers who happened
to be in the right place at the right time."
Telstedler's and Arons' faces fell
as Tarrow spoke. But he continued.
"We will do you this service,
but not for coin. We will do you this service because it is in the best
interest of your town, and of your people. And, most importantly, because it is
the right thing to do."
Within minutes, the Horselords were
on their way, riding atop five of the town's best horses. They were frail,
slow, and difficult to control compared to the steeds to which they were
accustomed, but considering the circumstances there was little to be done. Ben Arons
had given them directions on where to go, and they were asked to go and search
for anything that might indicate that this was a trap. Telstedler said that he
would try and delay the townsfolk from leaving town for as long as possible,
but it was unlikely that he would be able to hold them for long.
They rode their horses along the
road to the north, following it for as long as it stayed beside the Kellon
river. With the river to the west, Tarrow looked across the waters to the
expanse of forest, and beyond the mountains that threatened to pierce the sky.
They had been traveling through forest and passing mountains and preparing for
ambush and battle for so long, it had become difficult to see their
surroundings as anything but obstacles and difficult terrain. For the first
time in perhaps two years, he was able to set aside thoughts of tactical
positioning and combat advantage.
It was, perhaps, not the best time
to do so, given that their very destination could be a trap. But riding this
unresponsive horse, watching the waves of the river and hearing birds swooping
by with the wind in his face, reminded Tarrow of his childhood in Gilead. He
remembered his mother, young and beautiful, tending to her orchards, and his
father, strong and respectable, teaching him to ride a horse across the
countryside.
"Hey, Tarrow."
And, just like that, he was brought
back to the present.
"I was wondering… why did you
tell Telstedler that we didn't want anything in return for all of this? Why
didn't you tell him that we were looking for a place to live?"
Ah, young Artemis. He still had so
much to learn.
"Several reasons, lad," he
began, bringing his horse alongside Artemis'. It was difficult to keep these
horses from weaving slightly as they trotted, but he was able to manage.
"First, we don't want to seem too eager. Just because this town needs our
help doesn't mean that they're not in league with Galex, or even simply
unsympathetic towards our cause. Second, I spoke the truth. We are doing this
because it is in the town's best interest, which, in turn, is in our best
interest. If the town were to get destroyed, it would do little to help us find
a new headquarters."
Artemis nodded, and said nothing in
return.
"Plus," added Tarrow with
a grin, "I never said we didn't want a reward. I just said no coin. We can
work out the specifics of that once we're regarded as heroes."
After about an hour of riding, the
road began to veer off towards the east. Taking their horses off the road,
continuing north brought them to a steep incline, with the river rushing down
on one side and the landscape plateauing off on the other. As they reached the
top of the bluff, they continued along the river, and found very soon that it
became densely-forested swampland. Certainly a strange combination of terrain.
Rather than take their horses into
the swamp, the Horselords tied them up at the edge of the marsh, and continued
on foot. Following Ben's directions, they trudged through the swamp for another
hour. The air became thick and foggy, and the sounds of gas bubbling and all
manner or creatures rousing could be heard coming from all around. Every so
often, off in the distance, there would be a brief flash of light, like the
glow of a lantern. On more than one occasion, Artemis expressed interest in
following it, only to be pulled back on course by Fru’al.
Before long, they came to a large
mound of dry earth in the middle of the marsh, and atop it sat a tiny, sagging
cottage beside a massive gnarled willow that looked almost like an aged hag
weeping. The hut looked molding, and waterlogged, and void of any meaningful
human presence for years. But, it was their destination.
"Alright. We're going to be in
close quarters, so Artemis, you and I will go in first, and Sanna and Grash,
secure the entrance behind us. Fru’al, can you supply a light source?"
Fru’al nodded and held out his hand,
in which appeared a tiny ball of flame. With a slight push, the ball floated in
front of Artemis, who approached the door, sword in hand. Using his shield arm,
he pushed the door open, and immediately stepped inside into a defensive
stance, followed closely by Tarrow.
The tiny hut was surprisingly
spacious inside, and was still furnished, but showed no signs of recent
habitation. An old tattered rug of the floor sat in front of a fireplace filled
to capacity with dirt, ashes, and other refuse. A small table and chair, both
looking too moldy and rotted-out to bear weight, stood against one wall. A
chest of drawers, the drawers having fallen apart years ago, kept watch over
the main room like a sagging, sleeping sentry. A thick layer of dust covered
everything.
Artemis' stance began to relax, and Tarrow
sheathed his falchion. Behind him, Fru’al, Sanna, and Grash followed inside,
after ensuring that they were not being followed. Fru’al's floating torchlight
danced around the room, casting eerie shadows everywhere they looked.
"Well… let's start looking for
clues," said the trystborn.
They spread out around the small
structure, picking up pieces of refuse and examining them for anything out of
the ordinary. Something wasn't right about all of this. There was hardly enough
room here to house the five Horselords, let alone an entire village. And how is
it that this structure was still standing, considering its clearly long span of
disuse in such a fetid environment?
"Wait," said Fru’al,
gesturing the others away. "Stand back."
He held his staff close, and chanted
some arcane words under his breath. His eyes closed, and when he opened them,
they glowed momentarily in the dim flickering light. He looked everywhere- the
floor, the walls, the ceiling- in a deep trance, his lips moving silently as his
eyes scanned his field of vision. After about a minute, he closed his eyes,
then opened them again.
"It's a ruse. All of it."
The others looked startled, and
suspicious of their surroundings.
"Everything is an
illusion," Fru’al continued. "The dust, the debris, the furniture,
everything. As hard as it may be to believe, I think we are standing in an
empty room in the middle of a swamp. The building itself may even be an
illusion- it's difficult to be certain."
"But…" began Artemis,
"How can it be an illusion? I can touch it with my own hands."
Fru’al picked up a broken piece of
one of the drawers from the ground, examining it as he spoke. "Some
illusions are simply visual, and have no material effect. If that were the
case, my hand would pass through this piece of wood. However, more powerful
illusions are able to incorporate more of the senses. In this case, our sense
of touch is being fooled as well. Depending on the complexity of this magic, I
might not even be sure you and I are seeing or feeling the same thing."
Artemis appeared confused, and
opened his mouth to ask another question, but Tarrow interrupted him. "The
townspeople are likely on their way here already. When they get here, what do
you think is supposed to happen?"
Sanna spoke up. "They're being
led into a trap. My guess is that somewhere, here, is some sort of a holding
cell, capable of keeping them until their malefactor has all he needs."
The Horselords all glanced at each
other, and then looked down. Tarrow bent down suddenly and snatched up the
tattered rug on the floor, behind which was simply a bare, moldy wooden floor. Fru’al
reached to his belt, pulling out his waterskin. Uncorking the stopper, he bent
down, and poured it onto the floor. The water splashed around on the moldy
floorboards, and then began trickle across the room as gravity guided it. When
it reached the center of the room, it split into two separate streams,
perpendicular to one another, following some sort of invisible seam in the
floor.
A few moments later, the water
formed a large square on the floor, remaining for a moment or two until the
liquid seeped between the cracks. Grash knelt down, feeling along the invisible
square, until he found what he was looking for. Grabbing onto the invisible
handhold, he pulled the trap door open, revealing a dark expanse below.
"It looks like we've found our
trap."
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