by P D Dennison
Ravak spied on them from a low position between rock and tree where he was hidden by the tall shadows cast by the trunks of Rowenwood and was unlikely to be seen. As they drew near, the boy ran off into the trees and Ravak lost sight of him. Worried the boy might spot him and that he might frighten the travellers, he wheeled around to see if he could spot the lad first. As he did, the boy came upon him so suddenly that Ravak barely had a moment to react. He ran right through Ravak as if he weren’t even there and took up position right where he’ d spying on the family only seconds before. He didn’t appear to even take notice of Ravak and giggled as he watched his sister search for him around the trees across the road. Ravak crawled backward slowly and attempted to whisper at the boy, but got no response. The child couldn’t see him or hear him at all. What a relief, he thought as he stood up. He waived both hands at the cart as it passed and neither mother nor father took any notice of him and continued on with their conversation as he passed by.
He turned back and set out down the road again at a full run. After about five minutes had passed, he could see some huts in the distance and behind them a massive stone wall. The trees began to thin slightly and he could see a clearing just ahead so he pressed on, hoping to gain his bearing as he approached the wall.
He abruptly came to a halt as he entered the clearing. A massive keep rose up out of the road ahead of him. It stood atop a mound of rock on a hillock and was brilliantly crafted of light grey granite with the road widening around either side to three times its previous size. Dwarves worked on constructing an outer wall of Dragon’s Maw Keep, stacking hand cut granite stones carefully into place encircling the central courtyard and buildings that had already been constructed. It offered an added layer of protection to the already imposing structures within. He strolled about to take a look at the scene. The gates resembled the open maw of a dragon and were quite impressive. There was a bustle of activity in the area. There were huts built right in the woods around the keep and there appeared to be a marketplace abuzz with the day’s business and activity. Smoke rose from the little huts and from the tops of the buildings within the walls.
A shrill cry rose up from within the walls that made Ravak’s blood run cold and paralyzed him with fear. A second later, a sight Ravak had never seen appeared before his eyes. A huge ancient wyrm of a red dragon rose up out of the opening at the top of the keep up into the sky with powerful thrusts of its massive bat like wings. A breeze came up from the gusts of air that shot downward from the creature’s enormous wings, stirring up dust and rustling the leaves in the canopy above. It was massive. Its wings blocked out the sun and cast a shadow down over the entirety of the clearing. It let out another roar and breathed fire straight up into the air above the canopy a thousand feet high. Ravak looked on in slack-jawed wonder. Many of the nearby crowd let out a cheer of encouragement and the creature spiralled upward into the sky, revealing to Ravak the tiny rider situated on its back as it climbed. Ravak stood in awe at the wonder before his eyes and watched the creature fly off over the treetops out of sight. He quickly came to his senses and realized he must be getting back to his companions to relay his findings. He turned and sprinted back to the area where he had entered the Tempus Distortion and grabbed hold of the tree to return back to his friends.
Chapter 10
The Black Dragon Inn & Trading Post
Rostioff reached Hilltop by nightfall on his third day of travel out of Stromsgate, a full day behind schedule after dealing with the tragedy of Summervale. He went into town and headed straight for the Black Dragon Inn. His apprentice Manya and her brother Turynn were the proprietors. He’d always been welcomed as a member of the family. All of the staff and many of the townsfolk in the neighbourhood knew Rostioff. They all seemed to like and respect him throughout the land as a member of the Council of Arch Magi for the Tower of High Sorcery.
He brought the cart up in front of the inn’s stable, hopped down from the seat, and stretched with a groan after the long ride. The children he’d saved back in Summervale had slept for the last hour or so and now began to rustle in the back of the cart. The boy hopped down from the back of the wagon.
“Can we have sumfin’ to eat here, sir?”
His sister hopped out only a moment later with the same inquisitive look on her face that her brother had whilst rubbing the sleep out of the corner of her eye.
“Just a moment, children. Let me tend to my horse and we’ll get you some supper, a nice hot bath, and a warm bed.” He placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder affectionately and the child smiled up at him.
“Need a stall for the night, eh, Rostioff?” the groom asked as he sauntered over to the cart, chewing up the last bite of his supper as he spoke.
“Yes, my good fellow, we do. I would also ask that you find a buyer for this cart and all within. These poor children are survivors of an attack on Summervale that left them orphaned and they’ll need the coin desperately.” He flipped the man a silver coin and unhitched Stoneshanks from the cart, handing him off to the groom. The Black Dragon was a fair-sized inn right in the heart of the city of Hilltop on the road that led north to the Mystpeak Mountains and the famed trade route into Winter Wolf territory. It was a two-storey affair complete with full stable where one’s horse could be shod, watered, fed, and housed for a fee.
The main building was a T-shaped design. The front face was long and took up an entire city block when the stable was included. There were long high windows on the main floor that were lit with both fire and lantern from within and the sound of music could be heard from the street. All along the front face stretched a terrace that had patrons seated at tables enjoying the sights and sounds of the passing city and exchanging good cheer. The happy melody excited the children as they approached the entrance. The second floor was partially lit as some of the rooms were in use, the rest vacant and dark. The other wing around back would be where Rostioff would hope to find a room, as it was furthest away from the noise and bustle of the common room on the main floor, street side.
The little girl began to skip and dance to the music, swinging her brother’s hand, which was tightly clasped in her own as they grew closer to the entrance. She seemed very excited at the prospect of live music and Rostioff found it simply adorable. He pushed open the right side of the large double doors and swung it broad to let the children take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the Black Dragon Inn for the first time. Their eyes went wide as they looked inside. A long bar ran across the back of the room with a portly man standing there wiping out clay mugs and stacking them neatly in an elaborate pyramid shape next to some tapped kegs of ale. Then the scent of freshly grilled meats and homey stews filled their nostrils, along with the welcoming aromas of fresh bread and pipe tobacco.
Behind the bar and off to one side were swinging half gates that led back to the kitchen and all manner of noises could be heard coming from within, even all the way from the front door of the inn. Each time those kitchen doors swung open, a thin veil of light blue translucent smoke wafted out and followed the air over to the now open front door of the inn, carrying with it all of the wonderful scents that assailed their senses as they entered.
There were two large hearths in the room, one to either end with a sea of tables in the middle. Booths segregated the room into several little sections. Lanterns set into large, round wrought iron chandeliers hung from rope and pulley systems in the roof tied off on the backs of the booths around the dining room. The tavern area had seating for some ninety souls in the common area and tonight it looked to be about half full.
The band played near the hearth at the end of the room to the left of the door near the fire. They had amassed some fans that were dancing and clapping to the sounds of a lute, a flute, and a hand drum while the musicians danced around wildly as they played to engage the crowd in their merry making. They were dressed in foppish apparel from the southern elven lands. They were not elven themselves, though one of them looked to be at least half el
f. An atmosphere of lightheartedness and gayety filled the air. There were men, women, and families in the room enjoying the night and the entertainment.
“Well, go on!” Rostioff gently coaxed the youngsters inside.
They both grinned broadly with eyes wide and trotted into the room with Rostioff close behind. He guided them over to the bar. The bartender’s name was Bigsby Flathand and he spotted Rostioff when he was but halfway across the floor, waving to him excitedly.
“Ello' there, guvna’ Rostioff, sir! How might you be this fine eve? I see you’ve got some goblins in tow. Shall we dispatch them in the kitchen for you, sir? Perhaps some nice, hot goblin stew?” he exclaimed with a big smile as he looked down at the children.
Both played shy and were not entirely sure if the man were joking or if he in fact aimed to cook them up for supper.
“Good evening, Bigsby. I am well, thank you. I found these children orphaned in the town of Summervale not two nights past now. It turns out the town fell victim to an attack by goblins just the night before I arrived there and they razed it to the ground. The pups here were orphaned. Had I not healed the boy, he might not have made it through the day,” said Rostioff.
The little girl’s eyes widened at hearing this and she grabbed onto her brother’s arm and looked in his eyes, tears welling with concern and relief all at once.
“We require one of your fine common rooms with at least three beds. Also a tub filled with piping hot water for the children, plenty of towels, and some of that nice soap Manya carries in her shop out back. I would like a nice hot meal sent up and we do not wish to be disturbed for the remainder of the evening. These children require some much needed rest,” proclaimed the wizard.
He plunked down three gold coins on the counter and smiled broadly at Bigsby. The fat jolly little fellow laughed loudly and shook his head.
“Your coin’s no good here, guvna’. Master Turynn would have my fat hide turned into a lumpy rug if I took your money. Go on up with this little fellow. He’ll get you a room and I’ll take care of the rest.” He motioned for one of the inn-hands to come over and help Rostioff and the children up to their room.
“I thank you, Bigsby. Your heart is sized to suit you as it always has been. One more thing. Could you send out for a messenger? I wish to pen a letter this evening and I will need it carried express back to the Tower of High Sorcery so it arrives there as soon as possible. I must report back to Arch Mage Danthalas of what has happened in Summervale.”
“Yes, guvna’, no worries, no worries. Bigsby will take care of your every need. Now head on up and find these two little hedgehogs a hot tub!” He laughed heartily and gently coaxed the children toward the staircase off to one side of the bar and Rostioff followed.
The inn-hand led them to a room off in the back wing of the inn above Manya’s Magick & Curios shop. Rostioff found the room to be peaceful and quiet, away from the noise and commotion of the tavern on the floor below. Rostioff swung back the drapes and opened up the two large windows in the room to let in some of the fresh night air. He quickly assigned the children beds and then promptly told them not to touch them until they had bathed and eaten. They were both absolutely filthy from the fire and smoke. That was only compounded by the dust they’d been coated in on their cart ride into Hilltop.
Rostioff found the room to be more than satisfactory. It had plenty of light from a central chandelier and the boy that guided them lit them a cracking fire, plunked down a large stack of towels on each of the beds, and then promptly held his hand out for a tip. Rostioff offered him a couple of coppers and he smiled a large toothless grin.
“Thanks, guvna’! I’ll be back wif’ your suppa' in the blink of an eye! The ladies will be in wif’ your bath water and to launder your clothes straight away!” He turned and darted out the door running off down the hall.
“Let’s find a spot at the table there and get ready to receive our supper.” Rostioff motioned over to the quaint little table that sat beside the fireplace. The children went over and hopped up into their chairs. The warm inviting fire made Rostioff all the more sleepy. No sooner had he sat down than the servant ladies came in and began filling the tub up with pots of fresh hot water and stripping the children of their clothes, all talking in a busy bustle as they worked.
The boy returned moments later with a cart filled with foods. There were freshly roasted meats, potatoes, steaming vegetables, a pitcher of water for the children, and a fine bottle of mead for Rostioff. He unstopped the bottle and filled a cup to the top, after which he took a long steady drink. The children were content to splash in the tub while the ladies seemed content to bathe them, laughing and talking the whole time. Before he knew it, the kids were clean and dried and dressed in oversized sleeping gowns, their clothes all bundled up for the laundry and the ladies were headed for him next. He raised his hands to halt them.
“Ladies! Is there a more private chamber I might take my bath in? The children are right here,” asked Rostioff.
“Of course, guvna’, follow us.” The lady that spoke pulled him up out of his chair, dragging him to the door and down the hallway a couple of rooms where they led him to a private bathing chamber, an empty room, quiet and peaceful. Rostioff slid into the soothing hot bath to soak and think without the interruption of the children for at least a few minutes.
“Thank you, ladies.” He tipped them each a copper coin.
“Would it be too much to ask for you to watch over the pups while I take a soak?”
“No trouble at all, guvna’.” One of the ladies began to help him undress and bundled up all of his clothes as he hopped into the piping hot tub with his mug of mead close at hand.
The last lady left the room and pulled the door shut behind her. He was left sitting in the relaxing silence of the hot steamy bathroom. He sipped at his mead and thought about the last seven-night that had passed and what yet lay ahead of him if he were to actually find Turynn and Manya. Somehow they had to locate the ancient keep in time to prevent Graxxen from fulfilling his plans. He took a long sip and downed what was left in the cup and lay back to ponder the way of things. Before he knew it, his eyes were closed and he began to dream.
Rostioff found himself no longer in a hot bath at the Black Dragon Inn but inside a hut, like the ones the Barbarians of the north lived in. Dim light emanating from the central fire pit danced around the room in a dizzying array of shadows and flickers of light. It made Rostioff feel as though his head were spinning. He could see totems made from animal heads hanging around the room and shelves filled with jars containing oddities the likes of which even a wizard found strange. The air smelled of flowers and an old man sat on the floor of the hut across from him, chanting into the fire while holding a totem in one hand and piece of a Rowenwood branch in the other. The fire hissed and crackled as it burned through its fuel. The old conjurer was caught up in some sort of ritual. The branch glowed a pale purplish colour and once fully illuminated with magickal energy, the witchdoctor tossed it into the fire where it let out a sizzle. Purple flame laced with black streamers of unnatural looking smoke shot up through the vent in the center of the roof. The witchdoctor then grabbed the carcass of a small fox and lifted it high, passing it through the black smoke and exclaimed something to the goddess Skulga in a very thick, almost indiscernible northern accent. He then slit the throat of the animal, allowing the blood to flow freely down over his arms and onto his face and throat. The witchdoctor drank of its blood and cut out the eyes and various organs from the little creature after which he threw them into a pan that was heating on some hot coals. They sizzled and crackled and popped in the hot pan, unveiling the unpleasant scent of seared organ meat. He stood over the pan, wafting the smoke into his nostrils with his hands, looking at the entrails as they wriggled and danced. He breathed the black sooty smoke into the fire.
The rotten, burning stench filled Rostioff’s nostrils and he began to wretch. He stood up and stepped back a ways, covering his nose with hi
s sleeve. The witchdoctor stood up also and began to chant while holding the carcass of the fox up, waving it in the air toward Rostioff. The very walls of the hut began to come to life with the dancing purple and black fire and smoke. They quivered and wobbled in the strange aura of the dreamy magick.
Rostioff looked around the hut. There was no one, only himself, and the witchdoctor. Yet the old man drew closer as if he intended the fox and the chant for Rostioff specifically. He moved closer, violently spraying the warm blood all over the hut. A splash caught Rostioff in the face and the shock of the warm wet blood stirred him awake from the strange and frightening dream.
Rostioff awakened in a fluster of tepid water to find himself back in his tub at the Black Dragon Inn. One of the housemaids replaced his clothes, laundered and folded.
The Black Dragon took great pride in its little laundry and its unrivalled level of customer service. Turynn had invented a means to dry clothes quickly using large flat rocks heated from beneath with low fires.
Rostioff looked around confused and half asleep. The tub water had grown cold on him. His lip quivered and he shivered from head to toes. “How long have I been in here, ma’am?”
“Beggin' your pardon, guvna’, but you’ve been sleepin’ in that tub for nearly two bloomin’ hours now. Best you get out before you turn into a prune and catch a fever!” She grabbed a large towel and walked over with it, opening it for him to step out of the tepid water. He quickly dried and dressed and went back to the room to find the young servant lad cleaning the dishes away from the table and the children being tucked in bed by another housemaid.