by Keith Ahrens
“We tossed a few rocks through and nothing seemed to happen; they just disappeared," Grayson says to their group.
“Well, we're gonna find out right quick with that horde of redcaps bearing down on us!” Desmond says, agitated.
“Okay, you first!” Grayson says with a small bow and a grin.
Colt makes an exasperated sound and grabs a torch from the wall. He marches to the gate and thrusts his hand and the torch through the Arch. The flames seem brighter, illuminating the stone cave on the other side. With a shrug and a wink, he steps through. Looking around, he steps away from the gate and turns back. With an excited grin, he waves everyone through. The light of the gate flickers for a moment but then steadies, a little dimmer than it was a second ago.
“I think we are running out of time; we must hurry!” exclaims Thorn.
With no more hesitation, Miles leaps through with Jesse still over his shoulder, followed by Des and Vince. Nian looks past Haynes, a question on his face. Haynes gives him a shove toward the gate as Jimmy jumps through.
“No time for questions! I'll tell you on the other side, now move!” he tells the large Gnoll and gives him another shove. Grayson jumps through next while Nian relents and follows.
Thorn balks right in front of the gate. “I don't know if I can do this… leave everything behind, my whole world, my life…”
“If you stay, they'll likely kill you or put you in prison, right?” Haynes asks. The sound of the redcaps tromping down the stone floor of the cave is starting to reach them.
“Well, yes… but—”
The Sarge ducks one shoulder low and scoops the tiny elf off her feet and onto his shoulder. She gasps in surprise as he marches toward the gate.
“You’re with us now. Nothing bad will happen to you as long as I'm alive.”
Without a second glance, he steps through the gate with the elf on his shoulder.
Her protests are lost in the distance. A moment later, the gate flickers and dies.
29
I can no longer see the moon in the sky. I know next to nothing about astronomy, but I think that means that it has set.
I missed the gate.
I continue walking on anyway. One direction is as good as another right now, and I'm curious as to what happened at the stockade wall. My brain seems stuck in neutral right now with no ability to latch onto a coherent thought.
I missed the gate.
Now, I'm trudging through the thick trees and trip-hazard undergrowth. My leg continues to buckle and collapse every couple of steps. The pain in my lower back and various other places is like an annoying background noise, constant and distracting.
I missed the gate.
Somehow, I'm now sitting, but I don't remember stopping. I find myself resting on a rotten, fallen log, my helmet off and discarded on the ground by my feet. A cool breeze blows through the small forest, drying the sweat in my hair and blowing away some of the smoke from the recent fire.
I missed the gate.
As the visibility increases, I see the damage done in our recent battle with the water dragon. The shallow gully is scorched, and the ancient grove of trees has been reduced to ash and charred trunks.
The gloves come off next and end up in a pile on top the helmet. After that, the breastplate and pauldrons join them. The relief of losing all that weight in metal is almost intoxicating. The wind reaches my skin through the threadbare and torn T-shirt I came here in. It feels good.
My stomach rumbles, and my throat is parched. At a rough estimate, I'm halfway between the lake and the stockade that once guarded the gate. I think about returning to the lake. The thought of a cool drink is enticing, but it’s tempered by the knowledge that another aquatic undead creature might try to bite my face off. And I do not want to face one of those things for the rest of my born days. I consider going back to the trail where we passed the lean-to full of MREs. I could use some food right about now.
But, of course, the stockpile of MREs is probably overrun with ogres, goblins, and elves. Not worth it for a shitty breakfast.
I press on my tattoo out of morbid curiosity. Less than half of my Hit Points remain, and a laundry list of injuries shows up that's too long to bother to list. My inventory is empty, no food, no water…
I look at the blue tattoo and think about a healing spell, but it doesn’t seem very important right now.
I missed the gate.
For the first time in a long while, I’m lost, directionless and alone.
I missed the gate.
THIRAX and OLIVIA
Thirax leads the way along the darkened base of the wall. They've taken advantage of the attack focused at the stockade to get to the forest. The damaged wooden wall gives way to a rough rock cliff that the cave was dug from. Thirty or so yards of crouched running for Olivia, Thirax reverting to all fours, brings them to the thick foliage.
They duck down into the shadows and turn around. They hold still and look back out over the clearing. The light of Thorn's candle doesn't reach this far, and the pair begin to feel a terrible sense of fear and dread once again. They huddle closer to each other for a sense of safety.
No more gunfire echoes from the field, and the redcaps begin their charge. Olivia lets out a breath of relief when none of them turn toward the trees. It seems the two of them got away unnoticed.
The hulking Fey scream their war chants and battle cries as they smash against what’s left of the stockade wall. They swarm the area and fight each other to be first through the opening. The four armored knights and their mounts follow at a more sedate pace, surrounding the blackened coach. The banshee continues to wail her mournful dirge from within the rumbling coach.
Olivia reaches up to the much bigger Gnoll and claps her hand on his shoulder armor, pulling on him firmly. He nods and lopes off into the woods, silent as a hunting wolf. The smaller, blonde human slides into the shadows of his wake, easily keeping up and not disturbing a single branch. They slip away and begin their search.
They move quickly, yet quietly, and cover a good bit of distance. The banshee's wail is barely heard anymore and no longer felt at all. Thirax stops to scent the air but shakes his head in the negative at Olivia's look. The Gnoll points to a distant fire burning in the forest.
“Yeah, that looks like something our boy would be involved in," Olivia says, her face still grim. "Let’s go.”
They make their way through the uncut brush, staying careful to limit the noise of their passing. Several minutes pass in silence before Thirax glances up and speaks. “You know you've missed your chance to go home?”
“Yup.”
“Why are you not more upset? You humans seem to be more… dramatic than this, more emotional.”
“We've got a job to do right now. I'm planning on a breakdown and a good cry later. It just seems that being lost in a dark forest filled with hostile creatures that want to kill us while searching for a lost friend is a bad place to have an 'emotional' event. Right?”
Snort–“Agreed.” Thirax scents the air again and changes the subject. “The smell of burning wood is pungent, but I am picking up some dead reptile odor underneath.”
They approach a large circular area of scorched and smoldering trees.
“It looks like the fire has burned itself mostly out; let’s get a little closer,” directs Olivia, her cop mask back in place. She views this as a crime scene, or a large part of one.
She begins walking a concentric circle pattern around the edge of the blackened area. Careful of the embers, she climbs over massive tree trunks and studies the ground. The cop finds a wide swath of ground that has been churned up. The direction of the fallen trees gives her a good idea of what happened. She sees a clear trail leading back toward the clearing and the stockade, and she sends Thirax back to scout for tracks.
Sliding down a steep incline, she gets to her feet at the bottom and continues to look around. She brushes the burned leaves and soot from her armor and stoops low. Moving a cha
rred log, she finds a fist-sized scale, burnt around the edges, consistent with a large water dragon.
Thirax returns and meets up with her as she crests the other side of the gully.
“I found three sets of tracks and scents leading to the site of the firestorm. An elf, a dead lizard with a bad leg, and our lost pack member. All three continue past this area. A clear sign that he is still alive. Or at least, he was when he left here.”
“Well, that’s encouraging…. I'm guessing that one of the undead water dragons followed him out this way, but I don't know where the elf comes in.”
“The elf stinks of alcohol and magics.”
Olivia raises an eyebrow. “Good to know. I think they headed that way toward the lake. Bad decision. Why lead the dragon back to its home ground?”
“The desperate flight of prey. I doubt that he planned it. One human would be no match for one of those beasts,” replies the Gnoll.
“It can't be much further. On the plus side, the sun will soon be up. That’ll help our search.” She sets the pace, following the wide trail the dragon had torn through the grove.
A few minutes of indecision while sitting on the log turns into a light doze. That’s fine, it’s not like I have somewhere important to be at any specific time. My tired body has stiffened up in the brief time I've rested, muscles cramping pretty much everywhere.
Shaking myself awake, I rub my face and eyes, trying to get my brain back in gear. There are a few things I may have to come to terms with sooner, rather than later.
Okay, priorities: One, food and water; two, find safe shelter; three, live through the next month; four, fight my way solo through the rebuilt and reinforced stockade and waltz on home for a happy ending. Er, that didn't sound quite right, but I think you know what I mean.
Now I just have to muster up the energy to get up and get it done. Or I can at least gather enough energy to investigate the sound of leaves rustling and twigs snapping somewhere behind me. Wait, what?
I shake my head to snap out of this weird stupor I find myself in. Turning and kneeling behind the log, I peer over it and try to get an eye on whatever is making the noise. I suddenly regret taking half my armor off, so I plop the helmet onto my head. Slipping on the right-hand gauntlet lets me pull the copper rod out with confidence, knowing that it won't electrocute me. I get my right arm onto the log to steady my hand for a clean shot. Now I just need a target.
Whatever it was must have noticed my movement and gone to ground. I hold my breath and listen, but all I hear are some early morning birds. The sun is rising but currently remains low in the sky, casting long, deep shadows across the forest that leave plenty of places to hide. I'm sitting in a dark shadow myself, so I choose to stay hunkered down and not move. Let them come to me, if that’s what's going to happen. I'm tired of running.
Suddenly, a raucous barking howl comes from behind me. Surprise and fatigue slow my reflexes just enough to prevent me from turning and triggering the lightning rod before I get hit.
Yet, get hit I do. The rod flies from my hands, and I'm lifted off my feet, caught in a rib-crushing bear-hug. The growl in my ear turns to rough laughter, and I recognize the voice.
“Caleb! Bone-Healer, Arrow-Taker! Tamer of Undead Dragons! We've found you, and you're alive! I search for your corpse, but instead, I find you hale and hearty!”
“Thirax! You're crushing my ribs!… Whew… Thank you!” I hug him back out of sheer happiness of seeing a friend again. My eyes fill with manly tears. Damn straight, manly tears.
“You boys want a minute alone?”
I push back from the hairy beast and turn around to another familiar voice. “Olivia?! You too? What happened? Where is—” I'm cut off as the skinny blonde throws herself at me, a huge grin on her face.
We hug, hard. Her armor digs into my chest, and her gauntlets press into my back. I don't care; it's damn good to see these two. During all this, a surreal sense hits me, and I notice how nice she smells. A potent mix of hot skin, oiled metal, and lavender, maybe? Whatever it is, it’s nice.
She breaks the embrace and steps back, looking me up and down. “You look like a bag of beaten shit. Rough night?” She gives me a crooked smile and lightly bats her eyes. “Let’s see, multiple burns, contusions, and minor lacerations, oh, and a leg injury? Tsk, Thorn was right, you do need these.”
She holds out her right hand, palm up, and nestled there are two green and white stones. Compact and portable healing magic. My eyes widen with even more surprise and gratitude. Just what I need—Thank you, Thorn, wherever you are.
Friends at my side and some hope restored. Things just got a whole lot better.
They give me a few minutes of peace while I burn up one of the stones, getting myself back to functional. A quick check of the old sheet shows me that most of the damage is healed, including the spinal injury. Hit Points are almost back to full, but not quite, so I use my own minor healing magic to finish it off.
I confirm my stats one more time:
Cell# K4644
Prisoner# 5925
Multi Class Fighter/Healer
Name: Caleb Bastion
Race: Human
Class: Fighter/Healer
Level: 12 /1
Attacks/Round: 3
Hit Points, Max: 140
Hit Points, Current: 140
Special Conditions: None
Strength: 16 (+3)
Constitution: 14 (+2)
Dexterity: 12 (+1)
Intelligence: 16 (+3)
Wisdom: 16 (+3)
Charisma: 12 (+1)
Saving Throws For:
Fortitude: +10 Reflexes: +4 Willpower: +7
Armor Class: (Base) 10+1
Bonus Armor Proficiencies: All Light (+1 Dex), Medium (+1 Dex), and Heavy (+1 Dex)
Armor Class Total: 26
Armor Equipped: Helmet +1 A/C, Breastplate of Warding +8 (total), Greaves +2 (both legs), Pauldrons/Gauntlets +2 (both arms/shoulders), +2 Round Shield (Heavy, Wooden),
Ranged Weapon Proficiencies: Firearms, Specialized
Weapon Group: (None Equipped) Firearms, Specialized
Melee Weapon Proficiencies: +12/+8/+3 (3) attacks/round, +3/+3/+3 Damage (Str)
Unarmed Combat: +15/+11/+6 (Level + Str.) /+3/+3/+3(Str.)
Weapon Group: Maces/Hammers, Specialized, Focused
Mace, Iron: +16/+12/+7 Attack, 1d8+5/1d8+5/1d8+5 Damage
Weapon Group: Shield, Specialized, Focused
Shield, Heavy: +16/+12/+7 Attack: 1d6+5/1d6+5/1d6+5 Damage
Misc. Weapon Proficiencies:
Spear: +15/+11/+6 Attack: 1d8+3/1d8+3/1d8+3 Damage
Dagger +1: +16/+13//+7 Attack: 1d4+4/1d4+4/1d4+4 Damage
Magical Items:
Healing Stones (1 Full, 1 Depleted)
Rod of Lightning: 1d6-10d6+10, range 50 feet. (Unknown Charges)
Skills: Animal Handling 6, Profession (Medicine) 12, Driving 5, Swim 1, Sense Motive 6, Intimidate 5, Survival 7, Alertness 5, Toughness 5
Equipment Carried: Duty Belt, Trauma pack (Morphine, Epinephrine, Hemostat x2, Scalpel), penlight, Two-Way Radio.
Base Movement: 30 feet
Property of Lord Dullahan of Terram Caeruleum
I check the new blue tattoo again. It’s a lot shorter and somewhat less impressive than I remembered it would be, but I was a lot more excited the first time I looked:
Cell# K4644
Prisoner# 5925
Magic Abilities And Spells
Spells Known: Minor Healing 1d8 +1
Spells Available: None
Maximum Number of Spells: 1 Per Day
Number of Spells Available: None
Property of Lord Dullahan of Terram Caeruleum
I feel like I could use that same spell again if I really had to despite the tattoo being grey, but something tells me that would be a really bad idea. I remember what everyone said about using too much magic and how it could kill the caster if they pushed themselves too hard. How ironic would that b
e to kill myself using a healing spell?
We spend the next few minutes seated on the logs, trading stories about what happened during the last few hours.
“So, they will secure their side of the gate and wait for us?” I ask.
“That’s the plan. All we have to do is survive the next thirty days out here in the wilderness, with nothing we can eat, but everything that can eat us. Easy!” Olivia ends with fake optimism.
“Wait, I have an idea about that, but we have to move quickly before he wakes up or gets dragged into the lake,” I say, a plan forming in my head. “We might be able to grab that local I found and use his knowledge of the area.”
“Was this the elf that took flight with you?” Thirax asks, ears pointed forward.
“Yeah, he helped me kill one of the water dragons after we tried to kill each other several times. I left him unconscious on the road, maybe a half-mile that way,” I say as I point in the general direction toward the lake.
“Then we'd better go get him,” Olivia starts off. I hurry to put on my armor and gather my weapons again. I guess I'll have to wait on any more healing, but for right now, I am feeling a great deal better than before. I pocket the last healing stone.
Thirax easily follows my trail back to the lakeshore. The rising sun makes travel through the rough terrain a hell of a lot easier than it was just a few hours ago. We make it there in under half an hour; I can smell the water and the rotting dragon before we see them.
We stop and crouch once again at the edge of the forest to assess the road. Good news, bad news situation. Good news, the dragon is still dead and where I left it; the bad news, the elf is gone.