D&D 06-Treachery's Wake

by T. H. Lain

  The beach yielded little information. Vadania expected this, given the play of the tides and the shifting nature of its fine sands. Waves would erase any evidence of passage within hours of their being left. The trail grew more promising, however, when she ascended the bluff.

  Near its top, she spotted unmistakable signs that a group had recently been camped there. Evidence of multiple fire pits and charred chunks of deer or elk were strewn across the ground. Vadania felt her anger rising at the lack of respect shown the animals' remains, even if they were just a meal. An equal lack of concern marked the trail of prints that ran from the site and into the scrub forest to the east. A blind gnome could have followed the trail. A sickly stench lingered on the breeze. She followed the trail for a little while, then turned back when it was apparent that whatever left it was at least a few days gone.

  As she flew back out over the beach, Vadania saw that her companions were returning from the ship. She watched them setting a camp near the foot of the bluff, looking like insects from her height. Smoke drifted lazily from a small fire ring while she watched their tiny forms move about the scene. As the druid descended, she could make out each of her friends in clearer and clearer detail.

  Krusk hunkered over the fire, tossing pieces of driftwood onto the sputtering flames. Lidda dug through her pack, probably looking for food. Mialee sat on the beach next to Malthooz's prone form, her hand upon the half-orc's brow. He looked dead. Were it not for the attention Mialee paid him, Vadania would have concluded he was.

  Her descent grew more rapid. She approached the party in a steep dive, flaring her tail feathers at the last second to slow her approach. She landed on the sand with a double hop. No one seemed very surprised by her appearance. The only one of them who hadn't witnessed her shapechanging was out cold. She let out a shrill shriek.

  A transformation started in the depths of her chest. Her heart pulsed more slowly and the talons at the tips of her clawed feet began to expand and flatten. Her body grew rapidly to its full height as the feathers composing the hawk's wings withdrew into the pores on her arms. The beak pulled back into her face and her eyes grew into the long, almond shape that marked those of her race.

  Within moments, an elf woman stood where the bird had been. Vadania reached down to reassure herself by touching the hilt of her scimitar. The weapon was strapped to her hip, as it should be. The antlers in her hair and the beads that covered her clothing were all as they had been an hour before.

  "Is he all right?" she asked, joining Mialee at Malthooz's side.

  The wooden symbol lay exposed on the half-orc's chest. She stared at the disk.

  "Krusk found it on him when he drug him up here," Mialee said. "It's a holy symbol, eh?"

  Vadania grabbed the disk, turning it over and nodding.

  "Looks like a symbol to Pelor," said the druid. "I thought I saw him with it earlier."

  "He took a blow to the head, but he'll be all right," Mialee said. "He's stirred a few times and groaned once or twice."

  Vadania placed a hand on Malthooz's forehead, reciting the words to a simple healing spell.

  "Someone was definitely here within the week," she said when the spell was done. "A large group I'd say, maybe a dozen and a half. I don't think they were from the ship. I don't think they were even human, in fact, though I'm not sure."

  Krusk grunted and cracked open a chunk of crab leg that he was roasting over the fire He tossed a piece of it to the women.

  "Tried to eat us," he explained, "so it only seemed fair to return the favor."

  "In the ship?" Vadania asked.

  "Between this and a couple of kobolds," the barbarian said between mouthfuls, "we were busy."

  "The kobolds must have been in there a while. I didn't find any tracks," Vadania said. "Either way, I doubt the staff is still here."

  Lidda joined them near the fire and said, "Krusk and I went back in for a thorough search after we got Malthooz out."

  "Nothing," Krusk said with disgust.

  "There's more, though," Lidda said. "That boat wasn't run aground by a storm. It was attacked. Someone put a boulder the size of a bugbear through the mast. The way I see it, if we follow the trail you found up into the hills, we'll find what we're after." A grin crept across her face. "I'd wager that old wizard is good for a few more coins if we go through the extra trouble."

  "If the guild doesn't take too big a cut," Krusk said. "I like this job less and less."

  Malthooz groaned and stirred. Soon he sat up, rubbing his head.

  "Where...?"

  Krusk handed him a piece of crabmeat. "We were attacked and you were knocked out," he said.

  There was a definite edge to his words, but Vadania ignored the barbarian's tone.

  "How do you feel?" she asked.

  "My head is splitting," Malthooz replied. He moved his arms in wide circles, flexing his hands open and closed. "I think I'm all right, though."

  Vadania pointed at the symbol around his neck and asked, "Where did you get that?"

  Malthooz stuffed the symbol back under his shirt.

  "I think," he began, then shook his head. "It's not clear...more like a dream."

  A thick fog settled in as the sun fell. They ate more of the crab, savoring the fresh meat. It was a welcome change from their diet of dried rations, and would help them to conserve their dwindling supplies. That was something they had to consider, with a longer journey ahead than they'd anticipated.

  Malthooz awoke as a ray of sunlight burned through the fog and landed on his closed eyes. The brightness shining through his eyelids chased the sleep from his mind. Vadania tended a small fire. She'd taken the last watch. An earthy smell wafted from a kettle suspended over the blaze, hanging from a makeshift tripod of driftwood. She watched Malthooz rise and poured him a mug of brown tea.

  "It's not much to chew on," she said, handing it to him, "but it will chase the chill from your bones."

  He took a drink. It was bitter, but not unpleasant.

  "I remember now what happened yesterday," he said.

  The druid set her mug down.

  "You were visited," she said. It was not a question. She spoke as though she already knew what had happened to him. "I noticed the symbol back at the inn. I wasn't sure you knew what it was at the time. I am now."

  He told her about the time he'd spent with the cleric and about the things he'd been taught, how he'd been told that he was chosen by Pelor and that it wasn't really up to him one way or another. Vadania listened to his story, nodding occasionally but otherwise keeping quiet. When he was finished, they sat in silence for a few minutes.

  Vadania finally spoke. "Your only choice now is whether you heed the calling or not." She smiled. "It could be worse."

  "Could it?" Malthooz asked, looking into the empty mug in his hands.

  The others soon rose. Camp was broken after a quick meal of leftover crabmeat. Malthooz was surprised by how much Krusk's demeanor had changed since the previous evening.

  "He almost appears to be looking forward to the journey," Lidda remarked as she slung her crossbow across her shoulder.

  "Yeah, but don't ask him about his change of heart. You might upset him again," Malthooz replied jokingly, though he kept his voice down.

  "I don't know," the rogue responded, watching Krusk kick sand over the glowing embers from the fire. "I think he and the druid had some words last night." She grinned. "Whatever she said, she finally got something through to the oaf. Nonetheless, we probably shouldn't push it."

  The climb up to the top of the bluff took hours, but wasn't overly difficult. The scene at the top was as the druid described. Blackened deer carcasses and piles of frayed bones littered the area. It didn't look so much like a camp as the place where a pack of wild dogs had sheltered. Tattered bits of clothing were mixed in with the other trash.

  "Poor bastard," Krusk said, tossing aside the torn sleeve of a sailor's jacket. Embroidery of gold and silver thread made a pattern of bars on the s
houlder. "I doubt that death came swiftly for this unfortunate soul."

  "I don't think we're doing ourselves any favors hanging around here," Lidda said. "We should move on. I'd like to be as far from here as possible by nightfall."

  "Yes, the neglect and disrespect pains my soul even more seeing it up close," Vadania said.

  Krusk set his boot down inside a large set of footprints. The depression dwarfed the half-orc's foot by inches. Numerous sets of smaller prints ran alongside them. All pointed east, back into the forest.

  "Not many people venture into the Deepwood this far north," Vadania said, "even among the daring."

  Her words sent a shiver through Malthooz.

  The druid led them along the trail. Mialee followed close behind her. Malthooz and Krusk walked behind the wizard and Lidda covered the rear, her crossbow drawn.

  "Don't you ever tire of keeping your guard like that, Lidda?" Mialee asked.

  "I let my guard down once. I will never make that mistake again," the rogue replied.

  She lifted her leather armor, exposing a jagged scar on her abdomen.

  Malthooz was learning that the rogue was not half so serious as she seemed most of the time. She had a quick wit and was not afraid to use it. Still, it was a bit unnerving the way she could change so quickly, not unlike Krusk. One minute she was joking and the next she was poised to kill. He realized how valuable that was in a profession where a moment's hesitation meant death or imprisonment. Having spent only a matter of days with the woman, he considered her one of the few people to whom he would trust his life. But the same went for any of the others. Malthooz was beginning to understand how the life of adventure had drawn Krusk and how the bonds of camaraderie held them together. They might bicker during quiet times, but they would watch each others' backs when it counted.

  A chill wind swept south across the region as the day wore on and they followed the trail across the barren land. It was an inhospitable place, bordered by high mountain ranges to the north. To the south, open plains were just visible beyond the reaches of Deepwood. If the tracks kept straight on, they would enter the forest a half-day's journey ahead.

  Scrub yielded slowly to the woodlands. Stunted trees dotted the scenery and low, woody bushes became more frequent. It was not a pleasant place to be, and the isolation of the landscape was made even more oppressive by the evidence of their quarry's passage. Shrubs were trampled flat. Saplings had been uprooted. The ground was mired with muddy snow. It was little consolation that the muck made the trail easy to follow. Even the few yellow flowers they saw poking up between mounds of slush did little to dispel the severe feel of the place.

  The pursuers stopped at midday to rest and eat. Krusk badgered Vadania to look for something tastier than trail rations, but she wouldn't do it, arguing that she would not further upset the balance of nature in the face of so much wanton destruction.

  Malthooz took his club from his belt to practice the moves that the women had taught him. He saw Krusk grab his axe and move toward him. Malthooz dropped his arm to his side.

  "I talked to the druid," Krusk said, raising his axe. "I know about the symbol and your vision."

  Malthooz was stunned, unable to read the barbarian's emotions. Krusk nodded to his club and Malthooz raised it in front of himself, spreading his legs to match Krusk's stance.

  "The elves know how to fight," the barbarian said, "but they don't know how we fight."

  He swung his axe around on a small tree. The blade sliced cleanly through the three-inch trunk, toppling it to the ground.

  Krusk ignored the glare Vadania shot him and continued, "You must use your strength to your advantage. Put the whole strike back " He rested the head of his axe on the ground and added, "I am not going back to the village."

  "I know that," Malthooz said, nodding.

  "Just so we're clear."

  Krusk walked back to where the others were seated. Malthooz followed him over.

  "It was really more an audience than a vision, I think. I saw this," Malthooz said, reaching into the neck of his tunic and drawing forth the wooden symbol. "I felt something coursing through me that I've never felt the likes of before. It comes back, though much reduced in strength, when I touch this."

  "A cleric?" Mialee asked, moving closer and taking the symbol from his hands. "It's certainly not like most of the symbols I've seen. They are generally made of silver or better."

  "That may be, but whether that's a requirement of the god or of a cleric's vanity is an open question," Vadania said. "It is not unlike a fetish to the nature gods. Still, I agree that it is unusual for Pelor to grant favor to a half-orc."

  "Bah," Krusk sputtered. "I think you're letting that blow go to your head. Gods! What good have they done for your village? All of the praying and ceremony of the zealots never stopped the worgs from carrying off livestock or children. Stick to the club. The wolves understand what a bash on the snout means."

  Malthooz took the symbol back from the wizard and dropped it down the front of his tunic.

  "Say what you will, Krusk. I don't expect you to understand."

  Lidda appeared in the dense trees ahead. She was moving in a crouch, a finger over her mouth, signaling the others to keep quiet. Her cloak blended perfectly with the tree trunks as she moved silently toward them. Malthooz reached for his club to steady his shaking hand. He watched the others react to the rogue's return, tightening their own grips on the weapons they held ready. Krusk drummed his fingers in sequence along the handle of his axe. The sound only added to Malthooz's anxiousness.

  Sleep had been difficult for the half-orc the previous night as the companions camped on the open plain. He spent most of it tossing and turning as nightmares of the troll chasing him ran endlessly through his head. Every sound that echoed from the nearby forest startled him wide awake. When he wasn't peering anxiously into the darkness, he was shivering under his coarse, wool blanket.

  The light of day found him still weary and sore. No one wanted to light a fire for fear of attracting unwanted attention, though the damp, frigid air left Malthooz wishing for one.

  They followed the footprints deeper into the forest for most of the morning. By noon there was still no sign of their quarry beyond the tracks they left behind. Tall pines and firs, standing over the group like sentinels, blocked most of the light of midday and brought a dismal feeling over the journey. At least the cover kept them out of the icy wind, though Malthooz would have welcomed its sound over the eerie silence that hung over the place.

  "Gnolls ahead. A pair of them," Lidda said in an urgent whisper, holding up two fingers to emphasize the point. "About a quarter mile. They look half drunk."

  Krusk's tapping stopped suddenly.

  "Dog faces," he said with a sneer, "should be easy."

  He started moving.

  "I'm not so sure," Vadania said, grabbing his arm. "We don't know how many there are, or how organized they are."

  "She's right," Mialee said. "What about the big footprints? Let's not get carried away until we know what we're up against."

  "I'd guess that the rest of the group is somewhere ahead," Lidda said. "They must have a camp. I don't think they'd post guards if they were going anywhere."

  "That's a fair guess, but I don't want to stake my life on it," Vadania said. "I'd be much more comfortable if we did more snooping. I shouldn't have too much trouble getting by them."

  They all turned as Krusk buried the head of his axe in a tree trunk.

  "Make your plans," he growled, "but be quick with it."

  Vadania scowled at the barbarian. "There's precious little living in these parts as it is," she said.

  Malthooz missed Vadania's transformation the previous day and he watched with fascination as her body changed. He tried to keep his eyes on the woman as it happened, but the process was difficult to track. The details were easy enough, the fur emerging from her skin and her fingernails becoming claws. It was the gross metamorphosis of form that made the half-orc
queasy. He was not sure that he could describe what he was seeing. Vadania's body collapsed on itself as her muscles shrank and contracted. Her skin folded over and condensed. Fur sprouted from the tips and insides of her pointed ears.

  Within moments, the elf woman Malthooz knew was nowhere to be seen. A squirrel twittered on the ground where she had been. The animal leaped onto a nearby tree trunk, making a quick circuit. She appeared on a branch high above, chirping and chattering at her companions on the ground. With a swish of her bushy tail, the druid jumped to another branch and darted into the woods.

  The half-orc was thankful for the delay that the druid's scouting mission brought, even though he realized it was only temporary. A fight seemed inevitable at this point, and Malthooz was not overly eager to see it happen. He suspected that Krusk felt differently, guessing from the way he paced around, muttering curses into the air. It had always been that way with Krusk for as long as Malthooz knew him. Krusk had never been one for subtlety. He was the one who rushed headlong into whatever lay ahead, whether he knew what it was or not. Most often he didn't. Malthooz was glad for the presence of the druid and the other women. He'd hesitate to say that they made Krusk into a more sensible or gentle creature, but they did have a certain balancing affect on his reckless urges.

  Something about Krusk's attitude was strangely infectious, though. Malthooz had never developed much physical prowess, but Krusk was different. Ever since he'd arrived at the village of outcasts, seeking a safe place to lay low, he'd been the best at anything involving strength, and Malthooz admired the attention it brought him.

  Maybe he'd spent too much time with the barbarian, Malthooz thought, watching as a combined glare from Lidda and Mialee made Krusk set his axe down and take a seat. Malthooz could not deny that he felt a small but growing part of himself that hoped for a fight. He would have thought that the encounter with the troll would have been sufficient to frighten him off. The nightmares were certainly terrifying enough. Strangely, it was having the opposite effect, and he wasn't sure why. As scared as he was, he felt like he had to face the fear head on. The only way he was going to do that was through battle.