Two tall, slender windows nestled deep within narrow stone crevices high above the stone room's floor allowed a meager amount of morning light to filter into the room. The majority of the chamber remained cloaked in profound shadow, its ambiance hardly shifting as the day progressed. However, none of this registered with the emaciated, grimy boy who occupied the room's center. He sat awkwardly with his deformed right leg thrust painfully out in front of him and his left leg tucked under himself, his head bowed over his upturned hands, his cloudy eyes having been deprived of light and life for years. He'd lost his sight as an infant when a priest of The Church of Peace, convinced of his possession by a Demon, had unleashed an alkaline spray on his eyes in an attempt to cleanse him of malevolent influence.
If he had once possessed a name, it had long since vanished from his memory. He regarded himself more as a rat than a human, and in his desolate existence, there was no one to utter a name even if he had one. The guards offered him only the barest of directives, and the one who held him captive had never deemed him worthy of a name. Among the rats, naming was as scarce as names themselves – they relied on scents and sensations, confined to the extent of their rodent world. To them, he was simply the rat with the twisted leg, devoid of fur, a vague human scent, and a fragment of trust.
The boy bent his head closer to the fat rat nestled in his upturned hands, it sat up and emitted a soft squeak towards the forlorn human face. Tenderly, he stroked the rat as though it were a cherished pet, muttering unintelligible words in response. The rat squeaked a few more times, soon joined by several others that scuttled around and upon the boy. He conversed with them in hushed whispers, as if holding a profound discourse with the rodents that inhabited his dismal world. Nodding in agreement, he made gestures and gave a final affectionate stroke to the rat in his hands before it leapt to the ground and disappeared into the shadows along with its companions. Within moments, solitude descended upon the boy once more.
He rose to his feet, moving laboriously towards the door of his stone cell, the only abode he had ever known. He rapped on the door and waited. After a brief interlude, the small window inset in the door creaked open, revealing a plump, perspiring, bearded visage that peered into the dimly lit room. The boy remained motionless and silent, allowing the guard to scrutinize him for a prolonged moment before the small window in the door was shut once more.
The boy stood silently and still, despite the deformity of his right leg. His foot was twisted at a strange angle, and his lower leg was swollen and lumpy. His knee was small and stiff, barely bending at all. He could only walk for short distances before the pain overwhelmed him. His leg oozed a clear, sticky fluid that coated his skin, but the rats that were his only friends licked it off regularly, keeping the cockroaches and ants at bay.
The sounds of the latch on the door being undone caused the boy's face to twitch, his eyes moving toward the sound even though they could see nothing. The door slowly swung inwards and the torch light from the hall flooded into the boy's cell. One guard stepped into the room and handed the boy a wooden crutch, then stepped to the side to let the boy slowly limp through the open doorway, the echos seeming to guide the sightless boy through the door and into the hall beyond.
The two guards then led the boy down the hall and up a shallow ramp, several yards from the cell where he'd been held. One guard opened a door near the end of the hall, a small door that required the gangly lad to duck his head and bend to enter the tiny room beyond. The guard took the crutch away as the boy turned in the small space and sat on the stone seat built into the wall at the back of the closet-like room. The guards then closed the door and latched it shut.
Several long minutes later, the sound of metal sliding against stone allerted the boy to the grate on the wall being opened and a voice came from the other side of the grated window. "What do you know?" It was always the same voice, always the same smell. Always the same person to which the boy relayed the rat's secrets. The voice of an older man, but still strong. Quiet in its authority. The boy knew better than to withhold any information or embellish any. His friends the rats told him their secrets and he told the man on the other side of the grate. An easy way to stay alive and all the boy had known for the past 4 turns.
"A new thing has appeared in the country near the eastern sea. A creature made of shiny stone, a thing that smells of God magic and nothing. Some human kids found it and took it to the big city with the God's protection, the one with the big castle on a hill overlooking the eastern sea." Rats didn't know names or words but communicated descriptions, feelings, and location as best they could. The boy had to interpret their secrets sometimes, combining their basic speech with the images they showed him in his head. "One boy who found it is important, smells strongly of magic, the other has no smell of magic at all. The no-magic boy was angry about the other going on a trip with a lot of other people from the city. Two ships with lots of soldiers and Wizards," the rats didn't know what a Wizard was, but the pictures and smells conveyed to the boy that this is what they were, strong magic smell and confident, "left on the sea near dawn two days ago."
"Left for where?" The voice was quiet but insistent.
The boy new better than to blame the rats for their lack of understanding any of the mortal tongues, but one had glimpsed a map on a big wall and a tall blonde man gesturing in front of it, the memory of his words was a garbled mumbling of sounds. The boy described what he could of the map, a white island shaped like a dragon's head, a long river and a cluster of mountains.
"Very good," said the voice. "Anything else?"
"Yes. Most of the rats in that same place, the country by the sea, have stopped reporting. They are still around and those that are loyal still or those that cross into the country still report to me, but many are now reporting to something or someone else. There have been fights between those who report to me and the others."
"Do what you must to maintain our knowledge of what goes on there. Increase your focus on getting reports from the country north of the great salt marshes, the country with the snake-people and the mountains of magic. Find those that left on the trip there and find out where they are going and what they are doing.
"Yes, your grace," a phrase he'd heard one of his guards use once to address the person with the voice. It always seemed to please the voice when he said it.
"Return, I will have food sent. You've done well."
The scraping sound of the window being closed, then moments later the faint sound of a door being opened and voices too far away or too quiet to understand. The door to his little closet opened and the guard shoved the crutch into his hands, roughly pulling him out and into the hallway.
On the other side of the wall, a tall, stately, older man stepped out of a small, well appointed room into a brightly lit hallway hung with exquisite tapestries. A group of guards dressed in highly polished armor formed up in the hall making a square of protection around the Pope of the Church of Peace. Several old men in fancy dress robes bowed toward the Pope and fell into place behind him as he began to walk down the hall to the stairs up out of the bowels of Mott's biggest church. The Pope gestured to one of his cardinals, "Send a message to our man in Baltinet. Have him put together an investigation team to head into The Reaches to locate and observe an expedition from Malminar that has traveled to the Glittergreen mines for unknown reasons. I want to know what they are doing and why and I want to know as soon as possible. Stress that they are not to be seen and those from Malminar must not know they are there, preferably no one should know they are there. I also want to know why our contact in Retinor has not already provided information on this expedition from Malminar to The Reaches. Get me answers right away and remove those who are not doing their jobs."
"Yes, your Eminence." The cardinal motioned to an underling and stopped. The entourage split around him as they moved down the hallway, leaving the two men to whisper in the hall. The underling walked quickly away down a side hall and the cardinal hurried to catch up to the Pope and his attendants.
Suddenly his High Holiness Dalathalian, Pope of The Church of Peace stopped, the sunlight streaming through the tall windows along the south side of the long hallway dimmed for a moment and then burst into multiple colors, flashing in quick succession. The colorful display was gone as quickly as it had come. The priests and cardinals surrounding the Pope as one dropped to one knee, facing the Pope. The soldiers stood still and alert, spears and swords held at the ready, waiting for a command or any call to action.
"The Gods call me," pronounced the Pope. "I must attend them."
The entire entourage moved as one, back down the hall in the direction they had come. The Pope walked with purpose, his stride quick and strong and soon many of the older priests were left behind. Soon the group passed back underground, lamp light replaced the bright sunlight and then the smooth walls gave way to roughly carved stone.
The Pope stopped at a thick iron gate blocking the passage. The gate was old. Older than the church built above the tunnels and caverns in the bed rock here beneath the city. Three large, heavy locks kept the gate secured against passage. His High Holiness Dalathalian reached beneath the collar of his robes and produced three heavy iron keys on a long chain draped about his neck. He proceeded to unlock the top lock. The mechanism clicked smoothly open. The other two locks opened easily to the other two keys. The final few members of the entourage finally caught up as the last lock opened smoothly.
"I will return." The Pope stepped through the gate and closed it behind him, using the keys again to lock each lock in turn, from top to bottom. The guards arranged themselves before the door, looking back the way they came and the priests and attendants found places along the wall to seat themselves and await the Pope's return.
Dalathalian proceeded down the sloping, darkened passage and around the bend. None of the attendants or guards dared to watch him go. Questions about this part of the tunnels or about where the Pope went to commune with the Gods got a person disappeared for good.
The Pope walked through the darkness, long familiarity with the tunnel and its turns guiding him unerringly along its path. Light from the gate area faded quickly and complete darkness set in and yet still the Pope walked with purpose and confidence as if the path was lit by bright daylight. A few twists and turns later and iron bars blocked the way forward again. Dalathalian's hand touched the iron bars and a low bluish light began to grow from the bars where his hand touched. The light spread to all the bars, revealing a roughly round natural cavern beyond. The bars continued to glow blue as the Pope removed his hand and stepped through the glowing bars as if they were not there.
In the blue light from the bars Dalathalian looked around at the several forms sitting or lying on the floor, chained to the walls. Dalathalian stepped across the floor and around the stone table set in the middle of the cavern, moving with purpose to a bulky humanoid form sprawled on the floor. He bent down and touched the beastman who appeared to be sleeping. Standing, he moved back a foot or two and waited. One of the other forms nearby stirred and groaned. After a few moments the form of the bear-man on the floor stirred and sat up. The round ears near the top of his head twisted, trying to identify its surroundings. A low growl escaped his throat as he remembered where he was, and what had been done to him.
"Who are you and what have you done to me." The voice was low and rough, but he spoke calmly, confident he could deal with the threat before him. "Let me go now and I promise things will go better for you."
"Perhaps, but I prefer to see what will happen once you are fully recovered." Dalathalian watched carefully, aware and wary. The beastman was powerful, both physically and magically. It was why he'd been chosen. He was the most promising candidate that had come to him in a long time.
"I recognize your smell human, and your voice. You were the one in charge when they took my eyes." The bears voice was steady and hard, carrying a promise of vengeance. "You will pay for that." The bear-man sniffed several times, ears twisting about to identify any additional threats around him, the empty sockets where his eyes had been held odd shadows in the weird blue light of the still glowing bars.
Dalathalian watched as the bear-man stood and tested his chains. "Do you think these chains can hold me, human?" Dalathalian took another step back as the beastman walked carefully to the limit of the chains that bound him to the stone wall. The chains were thick and strong, and reinforced with magic but he knew they would not hold up to the full might of this litteral bear of a man. They weren't meant to any more. It was time for him to break free.
The bear-man paused and appeared to look down at the chains and cuffs on his wrists and ankles. He looked up and around as if he could see the other forms also chained to the wall at regular intervals around the chamber. Dalathalian could feel the strength of the magic returning to the man. He was indeed powerful. In a much practiced move, Dalathalian stepped back and around the big stone table, carved from a single stone outcropping from the floor of the cavern, putting it between himself and the beastman.
"I believe they will beastman." Dalathalian practically spit the word like a curse, putting as much hate into it as he could, baiting the man into breaking his chains and pursuing him. "You have been brought here to serve me and serve me you will. You are nothing compared to me and you will learn your place."
The low growl escaped the beastman's throat again and he leaned against the chains holding his arms. "You will pay for this human." The beastman took a quick step back and then surged forward with both arms, the chains holding them resisted for only a moment before they snapped with a bright spark of the magic reinforcement failing along with the iron of the links. Two quick kicks and the leg shackles snapped as easily as those holding his arms.
The bear-man dropped to a crouch, one hand on the floor and waited for a moment, expecting the human he could see via magic some ten or fifteen feet from him would retaliate or flee, but the magic aura he could detect remained motionless, waiting for something. The beastman looked about, reaching out with magic in a search to find the trap that must be laid for him. No such trap was apparent. What was the game here? The other auras he could see around the room were weak, those to whom they belonged apparently asleep or disabled in some way. He searched for another way out, a door or passage out of here, perhaps running away was a better option. The man across the room, the one who had been in charge of those who captured him and directed them to remove his eyes was strong in magic, that much was clear, but no stronger than he himself was. The only way out he could see was the magic blocked passage behind the Wizard across the room. The spell blocking that doorway was unfamiliar to him, but he was certain that if he could kill or disable the Wizard, he could find a way out. He'd deal with whatever was beyond when he got there.
"What are you waiting for, beastman? Are you rethinking your situation? Ready to give up and submit to serving me? I bested you easily when I captured you, what makes you think you could best me now?" The Pope's voice dripped with contempt and scorn.
Memories of the attack resurfaced for the beastman. An old Wizard confronting him in the desert in the Territories of the Seven Tribes of Uhl. The group had ambushed him just past dusk, ten armed and armoured soldiers and the Wizard setting upon him just as he was about to make camp. He'd killed 5 of the soldiers, between magic and physical strength they'd been no real challenge to him except for the shear number of them. The Wizard had surprised him as his attention was on the remaining soldiers slamming a shield between him and the flow of magic, one of the soldiers he'd thought he'd killed had reached up from the ground and stabbed him with some sort of poisoned needle. He remembered the taste of blood and dust as he'd fallen to the ground and the world had begun to slide around him and go dark. He'd awakened, still groggy, in a dark room, pain in his face where his eyes had been ripped from him, the voice of the Wizard directing someone to chain him up.
Anger rose in his chest and his thoughts became about nothing other than ripping out the Wizard's throat and feeling the life blood pump from the wound, flowing over his claws. He sprang at the Wizard, throwing a blinding flash of power at him, attempting to cut off the flow of magic to his enemy, following with several small bolts of sharp force to distract and injure the man. His dash across the room was suddenly interrupted by a large, hard, solid object that knocked the wind from him for a moment. A large slab of stone in the middle of the room between him and the Wizard. He hadn't seen it via magic due to the low amount of lotret in the air here. The free magic was what allowed him to see without his eyes, not a skill he'd ever really worked on before, but one he knew how to use, thankfully.
The Wizard and Pope, His High Holiness Dalathalian watched as the beastman hit the table. He watched the magic directed at him by the beatman pass by him several feet to this left. A handy skill to be able to project his magical aura a few feet away from himself. A skill that had certainly saved his life many times in his long years. He kept watching, ready for the beastman's next move.As he expected, the beastman leaped onto the sacrificial table in the center of the room. Dalathalian unleashed the powerful magic downwash from above, crushing the beastman down on the table with a blast of air and force. The beastman was pinned there for a moment and two enchanted chains attached to the table flew up and over, wrapping around him and binding him to the table in an instant. Dalathalian sucked the air from around the beastman, creating a vacuum. The beastman’s growl ceased abruptly as the air was ripped from his lungs by the magic. His aura glowed brighter than ever as he struggled to breathe, but the chains tightened around his chest, breaking several ribs with their strength. A spell to cloud his mind weakened him even more, and then the spell to sever him from the flow of Rit’s magic hit him hard. The beastman’s struggle ended. His body went limp on the stone altar. Dalathalian stopped his spells, except for the one holding the beastman on the stone. The bright spot of still-beating magic in the beastman’s chest began to rise, his death releasing the magic to return to Rit. The Pope of the Church of Peace reached out with a twisted bit of spirit and wind magic and drew the bright mote of light toward himself. It pulsed and swirled, as if resisting to go where it belonged. The bright mote drifted slowly toward the Pope and then entered his chest, merging with the bright light already shining within. A look of pure ecstasy overtook Dalathalian’s face and his back arched as he went up on his toes, arms thrown back. The small blue crystal on top of the short wooden staff in his right hand glowed to life and bathed the Pope in eerie light..
Tybour let his mind wander as he walked beside Rishmond and Cantor. Teilmein's murderer had yet to be found, hell, they didn't even have any good leads. There we plenty of suspects but nothing pointing to anyone specific. No sign of the kreleit blade either. The murder was taking great pains to hide it and a blade of that kind could not be scried.
Was Teilmein killed because he'd found some information leading to the saboteurs of the Porpoise? Or was there more here? Tybour didn't know what Teilmein was going to tell him. He should have just told him the evening before his murder, then perhaps Teilmein would still be alive and they'd have caught the culprits responsible for sinking a ship and killing so many good people.
What was behind the sabotage and murder? Was it to disrupt the expedition? Delay it for some reason? That seemed likely but too simple. As much as Tybour would have like to have kept Torg, and the expedition's purpose, a secret, that had not been possible with the very public arrival of Torg and the almost celebratory launch of the expedition. Tybour couldn't help but feel there was more to this, further plotting that as yet remained hidden. He needed to get to the bottom of it, the person or persons who did this would be punished and the power behind the plot would be revealed and punished as well.
Abruptly, Rishmond's firm grip on his arm jolted Tybour back to the present, wrenching him from his introspection. Startled, he found himself inches away from the rear of a stationary wagon, the clamor of excitement from the caravan punctuating the air. Peering around, he spotted the cause of the commotion: a majestic herd of giraffes, their towering forms a surreal sight against the backdrop of the grassy plains.
"I didn't think anything like that was possible! They're so tall! What did you call them again Rishmond?" Cantor's voice was high pitched and breathless as she took in the sight that had stopped the entire caravan. Across the grassy flatlands that had replaced the coastal jungle they'd traversed the first three days of the march from Swarve to the mines in the Glittergreen Mountains was a heard of tall-necked giraffes. Cantor had been told about them, but she hadn't believed the stories to be true, maintaining that it was a poor joke perpetrated by Tybour and Rishmond to tease her and Illiar. The two of them had only just begun to believe because they'd asked VanLief Aericksen, and then only because he'd shown them his notes and drawings from his adventures in The Reaches a few years earlier.
About 80 yards to the east of the small convoy, across an expanse of short brownish grass and scrubby bushes of dusty green, in among a small copse of tall green leafed trees were a small number of impossibly tall creatures. Long legs with great knobby knees held their bodies high in the air. Long necks seemed to sway and bend in the almost non existent breeze of the early evening. They were tan in color with large brown irregular spots all over. The larger adult animals sported tall, fur tufted horns atop their horse like heads. Their extraordinarily long necks allowed them to rip green leaves from the tops of the trees as they fed.
"Giraffes," said Rishmond, distractedly, his attention on the extraordinary site. Truth be told, he had only half believed in their existence despite his insistence to Cantor and Illiar that they did indeed exist. He concentrated for a moment, invoking magic to dispel illusions. The sight across the expanse remained, proof the animals were real.
Tybour's attention was suddenly ripped away from the herd across the veld by the sounds of someone scrambling up the tarp-covered pile of crates on the wagon in front of him. He stepped back a couple of steps to see VanLief pulling himself up to the top of the stack of crates. His lanky limbs reminded Tybour of an ice spider scaling a frozen cliff. Despite his awkward look, VanLief made it quickly to the top and stood to get a better look at the giraffes. The excited look and exclamations directed toward the two women who followed him up on the crates would make one think he'd never seen such a sight before. Tybour shock his head and directed his attention to the herd of animals in the distance once again. This was not the first time he'd seen these amazing animals, in fact it was less than two turns ago that both he and VanLief had been here in The Reaches and encountered such a sight. They'd been here hunting a warlock that had been causing some mischief for shipments coming from the Glittergreen mines. Both of the female soldiers talking excitedly with VanLief had also been on that mission and it appeared that peculiar relationship had picked right back up where it had left off. "Good for VanLief," thought Tybour.
Most of the expedition members had moved to the side of the road closest to the spectacle of such exotic animals seen in person to get a better look. Several of the soldiers were quick to reiterate the caution to not leave the road. Tybour watched Rishmond, Illiar and Cantor join the crowd near the edge of the road. Because they joined the group late they were at the back of the pack and all three strained for a better look at the herd of giraffes. Tybour grinned and chuckled to himself as he watched Rishmond wrap his arms around both girls waists, clueless to their reactions as he drew them close against him and lifted all three into the air in order to see over the heads of those blocking their clear view. His magic was truly effortless and Tybour was struck again with amazement at his control and strength in magic. Rishmond was as clueless about the extent of his power as he was about the obvious feelings both girls had about him. That boy was in for the discovery of a lifetime sometime soon with those two young ladies.
As the expedition watched the gentle giraffes graze upon the trees of the small grove a giant cantaboa struck from the bushes near the giraffes. The huge snake sunk its fangs deep into the haunches of one of the adolescent giraffes, immediately curling about, its prodigiously strong body pulling the giraffe into its coils, wrapping the young animal in a death squeeze. The rest of the herd immediately bolted, long legs carrying the animals quickly out of the reach of the snake, but the snake had its prey and paid no attention to the rest of the herd. The giant snake was eleven to twelve feet long and thicker than Tybour's shoulders were wide. A gasp went up from the watching crowd.
The excitement of the crowd at seeing the giraffes faded quickly as many turned from the sight of the cantaboa crushing the life from the young giraffe. Tybour glanced at Rishmond, Cantor and Illiar. Both girls seemed subdued and quiet as Rishmond lowered the three of them to the ground.
The incident was a stark reminder that this was no pleasure trip, but was instead a dangerous trek across untamed wilderness that contained a multitude of dangers and that everyone should be on their guard.
The crowd began to drift back to their duties and places in the caravan, preparing to continue on to their next planned camp. Tybour waved at Rishmond and strode forward to the head of the caravan where the two mounted soldiers awaited him.
"Nothing blocking the road ahead, sir. There is a place about 3 miles ahead where a large termite mound has been built near the left side of the road, not far beyond that is a good place to make camp for the night." The soldier's name was Dugar, a veteran Tybour had commanded for years now. A solid soldier and a good man.
"Good. Thank you, Dugar." said Tybour. "Go on ahead and begin preparations for the camp then. Any water source nearby?"
"Yes, a small stream about 100 yards beyond the camp site, so we won't be near any watering hole, but close enough to get water for everyone."
"Alright. Be careful and don't take any chances you don't have to. We'll get the caravan moving again and be along as quick as we can travel."
The two soldiers saluted, turned their horses and rode off up the road. Tybour turned back toward the lead wagon and the milling group of people nearby. "Let's get moving people!" He projected his voice over the chatter of people and sound of feet shuffling on the hard packed dirt of the road. "Camp is about 3 miles ahead and we need to make it there before full dark! Let's get a move on!"
His cry was taken up by the caravan master and several others. Slowly people moved out of the way of the two wagons and formed lines beside them to resume the march along the road. Those walking alongside the wagons seemed to crowd closer to them than before, the recent events instilling a healthy respect for what could be hiding just off the road.
Tybour strode up the road ahead of the rest of the caravan. He glanced back at the soldiers forming the vanguard of the caravan, waving up one of the officers. "Let's form up the columns with the civilians on the inside and soldiers on the outside, but do it subtly so we don't alarm anyone. Hopefully that will help calm some nerves and alleviate some fears. It'll also help us be better prepared. Ask Haningway and Bantore to both join me up here."
"Sir!", the young captain snapped off a sharp salute and headed back toward the group of soldiers at the head of the caravan.
After many minutes alone with his thoughts Tybour was joined by Ueet. The old man walked by a few feet away, quiet as a mouse, making sure he was in Tybour's eyesight before clearing his throat to get his attention.
"We have a lead on the Teilmein issue. Seems one of the cooks is in illusory disguise and is not who she appears to be." Ueet spoke quietly and without looking in Tybour's direction. His eyes scanned the horizon continuously, one of the many thin, sharp daggers he kept about his person twirled in his hand as if it had a life of its own. "We're gonna have to be very careful how we take her down. That kreleit blade will make it dangerous for any Wizard, even one with minimum magic ability. Only a couple of us with zero magic. And a well landed strike would still be deadly. A blade is blade."
"I'm sure you have a plan already in place," said Tybour. "How sure are we that this our assassin? Do we think she's alone?"
"Pretty sure she's the one. We've been observing for a couple of days, if she's not alone, they don't meet. Smart, well trained, disciplined. That worries me more than the blade. We'll do what we can. I assume you'll still want to take her alive for questioning?"
"Yes. We won't have much time. We have to recover the blade, that is most important. I will leave the questioning to you. I assume you will want Semptor with you. You'll only have a few hours."
"Yes. We'll give it a couple of days. Bantore knows, Haningway does not."
"Keep it that way." Tybour looked directly at Ueet, pausing for a moment for Ueet to look back. Their eyes locked. "No one else."
"Of course."
Haningway and Bantore approached from behind, jogging to catch up to Tybour and Ueet.
"Gentlemen, tomorrow we'll shave some time off our trip. We've a long march ahead of us even with a portal jump or two, but even longer without. Should be safe enough for me to open a portal big enough for the entire caravan and will add 50 miles or so to our distance for the day. A couple more like that in the next two days and we'll be at the mines. The trip is dangerous enough without the events that have occured and more so with what we've experienced. I'm familiar enough with where we're going to be able to open and maintain a good sized portal. Anyone have any objections?" Tybour kept his tone upbeat and positive. The portal wasn't a problem in itself, but with assassins and saboteurs, things could go sideways quickly. "Let's all stay sharp and focused to make sure we don't have any problems."
The group of four men slowed their pace enough for the soldiers at the head of the caravan to catch up. The conversation turned to what Tybour expected to find when they got to the mines and where the caravan would set up once they got there. There was a definitive line around the mountains that they would not want most of the personnel to cross. Beyond that line was where most people began to hear voices and see things that would eventually drive them crazy. It took longer for some than others, but anyone not Altemen would be driven insane in the Glittergreen mountains eventually. Tybour and a select few Wizards and soldiers could withstand the effect for a number of days, but no more than week. Even Tybour would go crazy after a week, even with all the protections he could muster from magic.
"Sir," Haningway spoke. "Looks like we've arrived at our next camp site."
Tybour looked up to see the two horse-mounted scouts ahead on the road. Just as they'd said, just off to the left of the road, about a hundred yards ahead, was a twelve foot tall termite mound. Not an unusual sight here on the savanna in The Reaches. Across the road and a few yards further up a huge slab of bedrock thrust its way out of the ground, its shallow angle creating a wide, shallow hollow, not large enough to put the entire caravans' tents under, but enough to provide some protection from danger approaching from at least two sides. The flat, tilted area atop the slab would make for a fine look out, providing a good view of the road and the surrounding grasslands. A good place to make camp for the night.
Tybour slowed his pace and began to angle toward the right hand side of the road, the caravan followed, aiming for the obvious camp site. Ahead the two riders rested their horses in the middle of the road, hand signals from Dugar indicated that they'd completed their inspection of the camp site and found it to be safe.
Ueet continued ahead, angling to the left side of the road, his sharp eyes on the termite mound. He turned his head slightly toward Tybour as their paths diverged. "Something not quite right about that termite hill. Not sure what it is, but we should check it out to be sure. I think we should keep everyone away from it until we can check it out."
Tybour paused for a minute, focusing his attention on the tall mound of dirt and wood for a moment. "Ok. It looks fine to me, but it can't hurt to be cautious. Go ahead."
Haningway signaled to the two mounted riders ahead that they should assist Ueet in investigating the termite mound. Both Dugar and the young soldier with him responded with the hand signal for assent and they began to move toward the mound from the middle of the road.
Tybour switched his attention to the caravan as he came to a stop on the road and motioned the vanguard to continue forward. The two wagons rumbled on past with the lines of marchers on each side already beginning to break up into groups to prepare the campsite for the night.
Bantore brushed against Tybour slightly as he moved past, Tybour turned to watch him follow after Ueet moving toward the mound. The big foxman had picked up a couple of javelins at some point after the cantaboa attack on the giraffes. Not a bad idea at all. Bantore didn't command much magic, but his fighting skills were exemplary and his skill with spear and javelin were practically legend.
Tybour turned and began to walk toward the shallow overhang that would be their home for the night. The first wagon was just pulling off the road and onto the rocky ground beneath the overhang. He looked around for Rishmond, finding him walking with Lieutenant Norft and first mate Evenar Uleeta not far from the proposed camp site, they appeared to be in an animated conversation. Cantor and Illiar walked together a few paces behind, their heads bent together in their own private conversation. Tybour quickened his pace to catch up to Rishmond.
A shout and noise of a commotion drew Tybour's attention back toward the other side of the road. He watched as a long gray tentacle wrapped its tentacular club around horse and rider, snatching them up from the road and pulling them toward what had been a termite mound at the side of the road. Now the mound had sprouted multiple tentacles, many waving about and reaching for people still on the road. Horse and rider both were drawn toward one of the gaping, toothy maws suddenly open on the sides of the gray-brown tower. The cries of horse and rider were suddenly silenced as one of the mouths clamped down on them, the tentacle ripped away, leaving half of both Dugar and his horse still inside the now bloody mouth. Blood sprayed from the back half of the horse still gripped in the waving tentacle.
Soldiers along the left side of the road scrambled to get out of reach of the multiple waving, searching tentacles of the monster. Several soldiers were knocked to the ground by a sweeping tentacle. Shouts and screams mixed as civilians became aware of the scene across the road. Tybour sprung into action, sprinting toward the creature and his soldiers across the road. He began to shout orders to the soldiers, telling them to move the civilians away from the creature and put themselves between it and them. He watched as a number of soldier were thrown through the air by a sweep of one powerful tentacle. He heard the orders being shouted by Haningway and other officers of the Phoenix Company. In moments the chaos began to give way to comparative order as training took over and soldiers reacted. A line of soldiers formed along the middle of the road, between the monster and the rest of the caravan. Swords were drawn and shields raised. A number of archers freed their bows and strung them, drew arrows from quivers and prepared to fire. Haningway's roared, "Fire!" and a half-dozen arrows flew toward their target, all of them striking the monster's body. They did not penetrate very far into the hide and the monster showed no reaction.
A subtle glow appeared along the line of soldiers formed up as a barrier between the monster and the expedition personnel, a magic wall of protection rose in front of the soldiers. More soldiers formed up behind the front line, shields held aloft and pikes leveled toward the monster. This was far from the first fight the Phoenix Company had been in with a Demon-spawn monster, and practice and experience made their actions quick and decisive.
A third line of soldiers quickly formed behind the pikemen, Wizards of greater than average strength, they began to cast spells designed to end the monster quickly. Seven thick, white bolts of energy shot toward the monster, all aimed at a small area of the monster about a quarter way up the body. The force bolts should have torn the monster in two with their combined strength, but instead the magic washed over the monster like waved against the stones of a rocky shore.
The huge monster suddenly lifted itself on a number of thick tentacles under its base and it began to move forward onto the road in an odd rolling manner upon its base of tentacles. Several soldiers, too slow or too injured to move out of the way, were squashed under the mass of the creature. Multiple of its tentacles slammed against the magic wall held by the front line of Phoenix Company soldiers. The transparent, sparkling wall seemed to bend beneath the onslaught, sparks and cracks of light shot through the wall. Two of the soldiers holding it buckled at the knees, their concentration broken and their strength drained. Young soldiers rushed in from behind the third line and dragged the collapsed soldiers back from the front line. Two other soldiers rushed forward to take their place, even as three more rushed in from the crowd across the road to add their strength to the shield wall.
Tybour reached the fourth line of soldiers consisting of officers directing the battle. "Demon spawn!" he shouted. Nothing that he was certain the other soldiers didn't already know. "Resistant to direct magic attacks." His voice was quieter now, meant to be for the officer's directing the fight. "Put more men on the wall." The monster was big and if it pushed against the wall enough, more soldiers would fall to fatigue.
"Sir," the major in charge of the archer platoon spoke. "Regular arrows aren't gonna be effective, shall we switch to flame and see if this thing is fireproof?"
"Yes, and get the dragoons up here. Javelins should be more effective."
"Yes, sir," she said and began barking orders toward a few junior officers nearby.
The monster continued to roll forward in its odd gait on multiple tentacles until its body was almost flush against the magic wall. Up close the creature was grotesque. The multiple gaping mouths were filled with long, sharp, uneven teeth. Multiple rough tongues covered in sharp, inward-facing spikes lolled within each mouth. The stench of the beast became almost overwhelming as it pushed against the wall. Tentacles began to reach over the top of the wall and the officer in charge of the wall called for it to be raised higher. Tentacles slipped back down the other side of the wall as the top edge climbed higher toward the sky.
Tybour examined the monster quickly. Twelve feet tall, at least twelve tentacles with flattened, roughly oval clubs at the ends. Suckers lined the tentacles and sharp, toothlike spikes were centered in each sucker. Thick dark lines of what appeared to be the bare skin of the creature formed an upside down Y shape. The body was covered in what looked like thick, short, brown-gray hair.
A heavy slam against the magic wall drew Tybour's attention up toward the top of the wall. The tentacle that had picked up Dugar and his horse still held the back half of the horse and what was left of Dugar. The sight suddenly angered Tybour. He drew heavily on the magic of Rit, he might not be able to directly affect the Demon spawn with magic, but he could do something about Dugar and the horse. Fire magic suddenly engulfed the corpses, white -hot flames consuming the remains in a matter of minutes.
The question about fire-arrows was also answered in short order as the flames appeared to do little to no damage to the tentacle still wrapped around the burning remains.
Two more soldiers on the front line suddenly collapsed under the onslaught by the huge monster. Pikemen stood their ground, ready to rush in and engage the demon-spawn if the wall should fail. The Wizard line continued to use small magic shields to keep the tentacles on the other side of the wall.
From somewhere off to the left of the creature a javelin streaked in and pierced the side of the creature, just above one of the mouths and just to one side of the single dark line of bare skin that bisected the top half of the monster. The javelin sank more than half of its length beneath the skin and the creature recoiled from the point of impact, multiple mouths screaming at several different pitches simultaneously, spittle flying from the openings. Dark ooze spurted from the wound when one of the tentacles grabbed the projectile and yanked it from the body. The tentacle flung the javelin away from itself. The javelin spun through the air to land a hundred yards away from the monster
Tybour looked to where the javelin had originated. Bantore stood there on the other side of the wall, readying another javelin to hurl at the creature.
A number of the front line, as well as a few pikemen stumbled as the constant push against the wall stopped. The entire wall moved forward toward the monster by several feet. A small portion of the wall suddenly ceased to exists when those concentrating on keeping it in place stopped doing so. In a flash, two long tentacles whipped through the opening, sweeping several soldiers aside, crushing one and throwing two more several yards.
Tybour and two of the Wizard rank rushed to fill the gap, pushing the tentacles back and forming a section of wall joined in a curve with the two parts of the original wall. The tentacles that had pushed through that momentary opening seemed to have a mind of their own while other tentacles wiped at the javelin wound from which poured a steady stream of dark ooze, more like mud than blood.
The creature seemed undecided as to what to do next. Perhaps being hurt by much smaller creatures was causing it to rethink its attack. Some of its tentacles continue to push against the wall and continued to search for ways over or around it while other tentacles appeared to be trying to drag the bulk of the creature aways from the wall and the confrontation.
Bantore launched another javelin toward the monster, but two tentacles swept the missle aside before it could connect with the creatures body. For something that appeared to lack any recognisable eyes, the creature was highly aware of its surroundings.
The monster cried out again, its voice a discordant cacophony that pierced one's ears. A javelin had pierced its left side, thrown by Lieutenant Norft. The dragoon squad arrayed itself around and behind the Lieutenant and began to ready javelins.
Tybour decided to take advantage of the momentary change in the demon-spawn's attack, he reached out with a powerful amount of magic flow and seized a large, thick tree in a small copse a few yards behind the monster. He uprooted the tree and lifted it into the air. Wielding it like a club he caused the tree to rush forward toward the monster, bringing it down against it with all the force he could muster. The tree slammed into the same side of the monster that the javelin had pierced but moments before.
The creature folded against the tree and was driven several feet to one side. The monster's mouths once again let go a wailing cry at multiple octaves at once. Tentacles attempted to wrest the tree from Tybour's magical grasp but Tybour hung on with all his magical might. Everyone watched as the epic struggle continued for several long seconds before the creature began to writhe and convulse. The dark lines of hairless skin seemed to grow thicker and changed color, becoming rapidly lighter. Suddenly it became clear that the monster was ripping apart along the lines, splitting into three separate smaller parts.
In a matter of moments, where one huge monster had stood, now three stood. At first it appeared the creature might have been dealt a killing blow, but the tentacles began to move and the three parts began assaulting the wall with renewed vigor. The part with the javelin still embedded in the wound appeared the worse for wear and its attack was not at the same ferocity as the other two. As Tybour watched, what had been the top of the Demon-spawned monster suddenly split again, a flat, winged shape separated from the top of the monster, like a hat blowing off a head in a strong wind. The flying creature was smooth with rounded wings that looked more for gliding than flapping, a long thin tail trailed behind it, a flat oval at the end like the clubs at the end of the tentacles of the rest of the creature.
The flying part of the monster rose ever higher as if carried on a desert thermal.
"Shoot that thing! Don't let it get to the caravan!" Several voices yelled the same or similar order all at once. Seconds later a volley of flaming arrows streaked into the air, several striking the creature, none of them appearing to have much effect as it continued to rise, faster and higher until it was sound out of range. Several different bolts of magical energy struck skyward, having even less effect on the flying monster as they did on the combined creature earlier. The creature continued to rise into the air, turning west as it rose, quickly disappearing into the distance and the setting sun.
Tybour turned his attention to the creatures still on the ground. He once again swung the tree like a club, striking downward toward the injured one and catching it off guard. The tree slammed into the monster and black ooze sprayed outward, the waving tentacles suddenly dropped to the ground and stopped moving. One monster down, two to go apparently, thought Tybour.
Other Wizards of the Phoenix Company followed Tybour's lead and four large trees began to assault the two remaining monsters. Tybour looked around to see who was wielding trees against the monsters. Rishmond stood a few feet from him, face a grimace of anger and concentration. Tybour admired the control and strength Rishmond exhibited. This was not a skill taught to Rishmond, not as far as Tybour knew, which means he'd watched Tybour do this once and learned to wield this magic with no practice or instruction. Just picked it up by watching. The kid was powerful and talented. He'd be First Mage before long at this rate.
Illiar and Cantor stood to either side of Rishmond, swords they'd procured from somewhere held at the ready to defend him if needed. Torg stood a couple of feet in front of Rishmond, feet set apart, eyes locked on the monsters and the flailing tentacles. Lotret seemed to flow from everywhere to a swirling disk just in front of the crystal golem, seeming to form a sort of shield in the air. Tybour had never seen lotret used in this manner. The crystal golem seemed to be drawing lotret from the surrounding air, concentrating it in front of him, more than Tybour had ever seen done before. Concentrating lotret was not unusual, but drawing this much of it was, and creating a spinning disk of the free-magic was not something he'd ever seen before. Something he would have to question Torg about later. It was enough for now to know that Rishmond had the protection of Illiar, Cantor and the little golem.
The trees continued to assault the two remaining creatures, their tentacles fended off attack after attack, ripping the trees from the magical grip of whomever wielded it, throwing the trees against the wall and at the dragoons lead by Norft on one side and Bantore on the other. Javelin after javelin was launched at the monsters, most finding a home in the flesh of the creatures, each eliciting a screaming response from the horrid, ganshing mouths. Several soldiers went down under thrown trees or a wild tentacle strike as the two monsters headed away from each other and toward the only other living things they might be able to get to, the dragoons at either end of the magic wall.
The bludgeoning would eventually kill the demon-spawn, but Tybour was done with soldiers being hurt or killed. He ripped up a smaller tree from the copse beyond the monsters and used magic to strip it of its branches and roots, sharpening it into a larger-than-life spear. He hurled the spear at one of the creatures, from behind and above, accelerating the projectile as much as he could until it pierced the creature with such force that it went almost entirely through it. Black icor spurted into the air and the creature collapsed to the ground, its tentacles falling to the dirt to twitch and flop weakly for a few moments before ceasing to move altogether.
Tybour felt the beginnings of fatigue from his magic use, his eyes blurred for a moment before he caught his breath. He was preparing to repeat his use of a tree as a makeshift spear when he watched another tree, prepared as his had been, pierce the still fighting creature from directly above it, the impromptu spear driving down through the creature and pinning it to the ground. The monster struggled feebly for a few seconds, tentacles lashing about in its death throes, before it too went quiet and still.
The creature, or creatures, appeared to be dead, the trees that had been wielded by magic to kill them dropped to the ground and soldiers began to break ranks to form two lines near either end of the magic wall. Tybour left the checking and clean up to the officers of the Company and strode over to Rishmond.
"Good job, Rishmond. Not to be too pointed, but you picked that up quickly." He smiled at the pun and Rishmond smiled back. Illiar shook her head at the terrible humor. "Not the first time we've come across demon-spawn who are resistant to direct magic, but hitting something with something hard almost always works. Lesson for today." Tybour winked at the trio of young people.
"Go help get the camp set up. Phoenix Company will get this mess cleaned up and make sure there are no other surprises waiting for us." Tybour turned to head back to the soldiers who were beginning the careful task of ensuring the monsters were no longer any threat.
Tybour watched as Torg made a small gesture and released his gathered lotret back into the air, the bluish sparks flying up and away from the spinning disk, dispersing back into the atmosphere. The magical lights inside the golem slowed returned to their golden hue from the bright yellow-white they had been during the fight.
"Tybour," Rishmond said. "Was this truely a random encounter? Or was this creature set as a trap for us?" He didn't ask out of fear, instead wanting to know so he could prepare. The incidents that had already befallen the expedition made the concern viable.
Tybour stopped and hesitated for a moment. He decided to answer honestly and fully. "No way to know for certain. Definitely not like we can ask them what they were doing." He cracked a wry smile. "I suppose it isn't impossible that some Demon beyond the Blessing heard about what we are doing and where we are going. They wouldn't want the Gods returning, not while they were imprisoned in the Demon Lands. Even so, it is far more likely that this was just a random demon-spawn living here in The Reaches. Doesn't mean we shouldn't keep our eyes and ears open and our wits about us though."
Tybour turned once again back to the soldiers and magic wall still up between them and the apparently dead demon-spawn monsters. "Haningway will be along after dinner for your history lesson. Monsters or no, your educations must continue!" He hoped his voice sounded far less tired than he felt. He'd used a lot of powerful magic today.
Illiar laughed, a short loud sound because she wouldn't have to attend any lessons this evening. Cantor and Rishmond glanced at each other and began to grouse about how unfair it was that lessons should continue this evening. Tybour listened with amusement as he continued to walk away, calling over his shoulder, "Illiar, would you help Haningway out with the lessons? I want him to cover some beastmen history as well and I think you could keep him honest." He smiled to himself as he listened to her stutter her response and heard Rishmond and Cantor laugh and begin to tease Illiar now. Yeah, no reason not to stir that pot. A whole bunch of interesting was gonna come of those three together more.
Haningway and Ueet stood with a small group of officers watching the two groups of soldiers round the ends of the magic wall still in place. Each group had extra long pikes they were using to poke and prod at the mounds of dead monster on the ground. The wall would stay in place until they were certain the creatures were dead and no longer a threat. The soldiers on the other side of the wall all had thick white cloths tied about their heads, covering their mouths and noses. "The blood and offal is poison. A couple of soldiers collapsed from it already, so we're gonna need to clean it up and keep up wind from it," reported Haningway. "Burning it would be best, but what we have attempted to burn so far has resisted and what smoke or steam was generated was toxic. Not something we should risk with the rest of the expedition nearby. Interestingly enough, washing the gunk off with water seems to neutralize it and reduce everything but the hair to a harmless substance, but it would take an awful lot of water to clean all of this up." Haningway paused for a few beats and Tybour turned to face him directly, one eyebrow raised, awaiting the other shoe to drop. "Semmolee has asked that we take one of the monsters with us, or that we stay for a few days so she can study them as they are and then she wants to take as much with us as possible for her lab."
"Of course she does." Tybour couldn't decide whether to be amused or frustrated. He decided on neither. "Let's go talk to her and see what she thinks about these creatures. She's probably got some thoughts and she is likely to know the most about them. Maybe having and answer or two wouldn't be so very bad, eh?" He smiled at Haningway who just shook his head.
"She's in the medical tent," Haningway pointed to the far left of the gathered Phoenix Company soldiers. "She was one of those overcome by the blood and guts of these things. Norft is in the med tent as well. Broken leg, few broken ribs, broken arm. He says he's fine."
"Right. I should have guessed." Tybour strode off in the direction of the small tent, Haningway close on his heels. Semmolee was smart and invaluable when it came to identifying, tracking, coming up with methods to fight demon-spawn, but she was also reckless and had a fine disregard for her own safety. An injured Norft was not good news, but if it was just some broken bones, he'd be fine in a day or two and knowing him, he's insist on walking out of the tent and finishing the clean up before he got any medical attention.
Tybour stopped a few yards short of the small white tent, "Haningway, we don't have the time or the resources to deal with disposing of this monster.. these monsters? Is it one or many? Doesn't matter..." Haningway raised one eyebrow and tilted his head a bit to the right. "We're gonna bury it and then we'll flood the burial site from the stream's underground source. That should take care of it well enough. We won't be taking any of it with us, so Semmolee is about to be put out."
"Go ahead and get the remains buried and get as much cleaned up as you can. Make sure none of the civilians wander near the remains, we don't want anyone getting sick or worse."
"Yes, sir. We'll take care of it."
"How many did we lose, Haningway?" Tybour stood still, head slightly down, waiting for the bad news.
"Eight Pikemen, two archers, three Infantrymen, Sergeant Dugar of course. Evenara Uleeta and Haster Unto are also among the dead. One horse lost as well." Haningway spoke matter of factly, conveying a count only. Tybour blinked a few times before raising his head. "Injured?"
"Ten injured besides Norft and Semmolee. None so badly they won't be able to travel tomorrow."
"Thank you, Haningway." Tybour pushed the doubt and regret to the back of his mind. "No civilians hurt then, this is good. Let's make all preparations for tomorrow. Same plan, but let's get some extras on watch. We don't want to be caught unaware tonight."
"Sir." Haningway turned away to carry out his duty.
Tybour ducked into the medical tent. Semmolee sat on the edge of a cot at the front of the tent looking haggard and drawn. She looked up groggily at his entrance. "No. We won't be staying to study the monsters, nor will we be taking any of it with us. We have a specific and very important mission here and we will not be jeopardizing it in the interest of monster research. And before you say anything, yes, I know how important that is, and what it could mean for us, but, finding and returning the Gods to our world is a bit more important, wouldn't you say?"
Semmolee closed her mouth, open to protest the leaving of such valuable research behind. Her face scowled for a moment before she answered. "Yes, sir, but couldn't we take just a little with us? Even a small bit could give us some information. We've never seen a monster quite..."
"No. Mission first. If we're lucky, maybe we'll run into another one on the way back home." Tybour cut her a little slack, he appreciated her dedication and enthusiasm, and her expertise. "Now, recover and be ready to move out in the morning. I will be counting on you to keep an eye out for any more demon-spawn we may run across. We got complacent and sloppy. We should have never gotten this close to a monster without knowing what it was. I expect you to make sure it doesn't happen again on this trip."
"Yes, sir!" Semmolee responded with more strength this time. Purpose and expectation seemed to hasten her recovery a bit.
"Go get some rest and follow the healer's instructions. That's an order. I will find you and we can discuss the monster tomorrow." Tybour continued into the tent. Cots lined both sides of the central aisle. Soldiers occupied most of the cots, many asleep due to ministrations by the healers. And unconscious person was often easier to work on than one awake and moving. He found Norft near the middle of the tent on a cot far too small for his size. The lion-man tried to sit up as he spied Tybour approaching. The healer sitting next to him protested and placed an ineffectual hand on the big man's chest. "Norft, lay down and let the healer work. That's an order," Tybour said, holding a hand out, palm forward. "We've lots to do tomorrow and a long way to travel still ahead. I need you healed and able."
Some sort of growled assent came from the general direction of Norft's head, more of a rumble than any spoken word.
"He'll be good enough to move in a couple of hours, First Mage, if he would stop trying to get up and leave," said the young healer working on one of Norft's arms. "He keeps insisting that he can just heal on his own." The young man shook his head and smiled oddly.
"Norft, I order you to undergo healing and you will treat this medic's instructions as if they were orders from me. Is that understood?" Tybour looked down at the man on the cot. Norft's eyes opened and he shot Tybour a sour look then muttered, "Yes, sir." in a surly voice.
Tybour moved beyond his friend's bed and toward the back of the tent, where the dead rested on their own cots, under white canvas covers. He moved between the cots, looking at each face in turn. He knew each and every soldier, all of them were his responsibility. Each one of them had pledged their lives to Malminar and himself. He would carry their faces with him for the rest of his life. He knew that each one had known what they'd signed on for, and that death was a very real possibility. He'd carry no guilt about their deaths, but he would carry their memory.
He found the body of Haster Unto, crushed beneath the bulk of the monster at the very beginning of the fight. Tybour didn't know if he had any family and he hadn't know the Alteman well. He'd seemed a good man. He hoped his death had been quick and relatively painless.
The body of Evenara Uleeta, first mate of the sunken Porpoise was laid out not far from Haster Unto, her head at an odd angle, her death from a broken back and neck caused by a flailing tentacle. She should not have been anywhere near the fight. Why was she not safe with the rest of the civilians?
Tybour left the medical tent in search of Haningway.
He found Haningway, Ueet and Lieutenant Norft supervising the disposal of the remains of the monsters. A large pit had been opened magically and the wall that was still up from the battle was being used to push the remains into the pit. The greasy blood stains left in the dirt of the road was being sprayed with water by a detail of soldiers to ensure no one touched it or breathed in fumes from it. The clean up was going well and quicker than Tybour expected despite a gathering crowd of civilians come to gawk.
Tybour left the clean up and the explanations to Haningway and Bantore. The magic he'd wielded today had taken its toll, he was tired and hungry and needed to rest to prepare for tomorrow. The portal he'd be opening, and holding open, tomorrow was going to take a lot of his energy.
He found Rishmond, Illiar, and Cantor completing the setup of their tents and the small fire area they'd use for cooking and warmth tonight, although it would be unlikely they would need the extra warmth tonight, the weather was warm and the night was shaping up to be the same. The group had setup Tybour's tent as well in the small cluster of tents. Bantore's was also in the group, Tybour noted it was between Rishmond's tent and Cantor's tent, with Illiar's on the other side of Cantor's. He wondered who's idea that was and smiled to himself.
Torg stood stoic and still across the clearing, not far from Rishmond. Tybour thought for a moment that the impassive crystal face smiled and winked at him, but that was highly unlikely.
