by Bill Ricardi
The feline rumbled, “The Cult of Harrington. It seems that the power of our least favorite dead duke is quite real. His clerics were able to summon serpents in his name. If the diary that we found is to be believed, and the words of Harrington’s former staff ring true, this cult is more widespread than any of us would have imagined.”
The old archmage mused, “Why is it always the insane cultists that want to bring about the end of the world? For once couldn’t it be someone reasonable but mistaken? We could sit down, have some coffee, talk it out over dinner.”
I prompted, “Max.”
The presumed Headmaster sighed, “Yes. Well. The logical thing to do is for Sorch to contact Koroth and warn him of the rebellion in his midst. Let the gods and demons sort it out, and we’ll clean up whatever mess is left.”
I blinked. “Ummm.”
The old wizard stared at me. “What? You have this direct link to Koroth, yes? This is the reason you have special rooms and are able to bed your feline friend every night. What’s the problem?”
“I kind of… made a deal that abolished all mental contact between Koroth and myself. And any of my friends. Forever.”
There was some yelling and the throwing of an eraser in my general direction. In my defense I said, “It seemed like a good idea at the time! Koroth said I was going to die and he needed my entire, unfiltered dream about the end of the world before that happened. I had leverage.”
Max spat, “And you used that leverage to catapult our best hope right out the tower window!” He started to pace behind his desk. “Koroth is in the best position to deal with his own insane general. It may backfire of course, but a few more crazy cultists is an acceptable risk when the best result is a quick cessation of hostilities followed by the elimination of the root cause of the recent chaos.”
Tara said, “Then we go to Koroth. There’s a temple back in Royal Moffit.”
The rest of us groaned, while Tara and Max looked confused.
Ames explained, “We raided that temple last year. We broke in and stopped a secret ceremony. They hate us.”
Max frowned. “Well you’ll just have to be nice to them.”
Toby practically roared, “NICE?!”
Max bellowed, quite impressive for a pair of human lungs, “NICE! It’s the fate of the damned world minotaur, keep it in your pants!” The acting Headmaster calmed himself. “The four of you are to get a message to Koroth, via his bishop in Royal Moffit. Sorch, you’re in charge. They may hate you, but they probably consider you powerful for reasons that escape any logic. Tell him about the betrayer in his house and ask what in the hells the Duke’s endgame might be. Report back to me with the results. Go!”
We walked back towards the teleportation circle that we had just come from. Toby was fuming, tears running down his cheeks. Tara was doing her best to be comforting. Ames, just shaking their head in disbelief. For once, I was the calm and level headed one.
The gate guards at the rear of the Temple of Omi-Suteth seemed quite confused when the same people who had just left, tromped right back out of their back garden. One of them attempted a little joke, only to get a wordless snarl from Toby as we passed. Ames led the way. There was no conversation as we cut through side streets and alleys in order to reach our familiar destination.
It looked like Koroth’s people had redecorated. The temple had suffered some minor damage during the conflict, and some more minor damage after the conflict from those who blamed Koroth’s mainstream clergy for not hammering down on their more extreme faction. They had taken the opportunity to rebrand themselves. The art and the signage were all more oriented towards the ‘Broker’ aspect of Koroth now. The primary focus seemed to be on advantageous bargaining and learning the mysteries of the bargains struck between the gods themselves. Gone was all mention of advantageous accords after times of war, greed as an end to itself, and certainly there was no acknowledgement of any role in the recent conflict that rocked Royal Moffit to its core.
Toby had managed to calm down somewhat, and Tara wiped the final tears from his fuzzy cheeks while we waited at the back of the temple. Soon enough, a black robed acolyte approached us. “Yes?” Everything we needed to know about the tone of our reception was answered in that one word. It would be icy.
I tried to be upbeat and to the point, “Hi! I’m Sorch Stonebender, and-”
The young cleric cut me off, “We know who you are, Harbinger of Sorrow. Why are you here?”
Ames murmured to me, “Catchy name.”
I cleared my throat, “Yes, well, sorry about that. If you would be so kind as to take us back to see the Bishop?”
The acolyte looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. “I’ll do no such thing! Are you insane? After everything you did to damage and malign the reputation of our church?”
Ames was interested in a different tactic. “Just you here right now?”
The black robe priest peered at the were-cat. “Excuse me?”
“It’s just you? Nobody else around?”
Everyone had a quick glance around. Given the time of day the temple was, indeed, empty.
I said, more firmly, “We’re going to see the Bishop now.”
Toby and Tara already had the young human off of his feet and had started to carry him back towards the apse when we heard a voice. “You can put young Stephen down now. Stephen, be a lad and go see to the notes for tonight’s sermon, please.”
The cleric and paladin dropped the black robed priest, who quickly scampered off. An older man strode out from behind the partition that separated the altar from the halls beyond. His hair was black, but fading, and his beard was salt and pepper. He wore the traditional deep purple robes that I had seen once before, prior to Ames staining them red. “I’m Bishop Michael Frye. Sit, we’ll talk. Briefly.”
The four of us sat in the front row of the lines of pews. The wood groaned but survived the weight of both minotaurs. I said, “Thank you for seeing us. We need to get a message to Koroth.”
The purple robed man looked genuinely puzzled. “Do you know, if someone had asked me what my day would be like, the chances of me predicting something like this would be fairly low. I wouldn’t have responded with: ‘Oh, the usual things. The Harbinger of Sorrow is coming in later, and he’s going to ask me to commune directly with Koroth.’ That would have been close to the last thing on the agenda.”
I insisted, “He’s going to want to hear this. It’s about the Cult of Harrington.”
The blank stare that we got said volumes.
The four of us launched into a lengthy explanation of how Duke Harrington was actually betraying Koroth. Ames showed him the diary, which the man took his time reading, happy to leave us waiting impatiently.
Finally the bishop asked, “What makes you think that Koroth doesn’t already know about all this?”
I said, without thinking, “Because the last time we spoke neither of us were aware of it.”
My friends started looking elsewhere, massaging their temples, doing everything they needed to do in order to stop themselves from groaning out loud or slapping me.
Koroth’s bishop said, “He spoke. Directly to you?”
I hand waved that fact off as less than relevant, “Yeah he was haunting my dreams for a while, it’s a very long story. Trust me, he doesn’t know. This will be valuable information to him!”
Tara cut in, smoothly, “How often do you get to speak to Koroth? I mean, directly to Koroth? How often does he take your supplication and respond in his own voice?”
The older man admitted, “It has been quite some time.”
I jumped on that, “He’s going to want to have a conversation. You have the evidence he needs to unmask a traitor in his house. He’s going to want our help stopping the plotting of his new general. All he needs to do is trace the disruptions in the ley lines and tell us what Harrington’s doing with the negative energy.”
Koroth’s bishop considered, tight lipped for a few mome
nts. Then he turned and walked over to the altar. “Stay where you are. Don’t make a sound. This will take some time.”
The ritual was fairly mundane, consisting mostly of a murmured prayer upon the altar of Koroth, and waiting. After twenty minutes of this, something seemed to seize the bishop. For several more minutes he didn’t move, frozen unnaturally. Then the purple robed man slumped against the stone, gasping for air. It took him a few moments to recover from the direct commune with his deity.
On wobbly legs, Bishop Frye made his way back over to us. He said, “Koroth has received the information. He has a message for you.” The bishop pointed one finger directly at my chest.
I nodded. “Yes?”
The bishop said, “Koroth said that the energy carried by the ley lines ended at the Voodoo Engine.”
My heart suddenly froze.
“He said: Sorch, go home.”
I don’t fully remember my friends forcing me to stand and quickly leading me back to Circle of Transport. I only partly remember Ames taking me back to our room at the Arcane University and telling me to rest and prepare. Parsnip was there when I woke, and urged me to do my intellect enhancements and get together an assortment of combat spells. The half elf watched over me as I mechanically followed her advice.
But my mind kept coming back to one inevitable conclusion. Something about this was personal. The stack of Voodoo Engine diagrams atop my possessions within the old elven stronghold should have been a hint. The involvement of my people, my tribe, it was engineered. I didn’t believe in circumstance, not to this degree. Something that I said or did, something I confessed under torture, SOMETHING had opened the door for Harrington’s plot.
“It doesn’t matter, you know.”
His words mocked me from beyond the grave. The Duke, now demonic general, calmly spoke of the inevitability of his greatness. At the time he was talking about his dedication to Koroth’s plans. Now though, Harrington had found a way to seize his own measure of power. And part of his revenge was targeted squarely at me, and at my people.
“Sorch. Sorch!”
Parsnip was shaking me. “You look like you’re done. Come on, you’re wanted in the Headmaster’s classroom.”
I said, “Wait.”
Patricia paused with a hand on my shoulder. “What is it?”
I took a deep breath and then said, “I want you to know that I respect everything you’ve gone through, but most of all I respect everything that you’ve done for me and for Ames. If there’s ever anything that you need, anything that you want to talk about, we’re here for you. And not just here-here. Wherever either of us are, you are welcome.”
The half elf smiled a little bit. “Wow. Where did that come from?”
I confessed, “A friend of a friend reminded me how important it is to be there for people.”
Parsnip tugged me to my feet. “Good. Because now it’s important to be there for Headmaster Max, in his classroom. Come on.”
I followed without protest.
Parsnip gave me a quick peck on the cheek after escorting me to Max’s classroom in the West Wing. She said, “You’re a class act, Sorch Stonebender.” Then the half elf headed off to class, tardy note in hand. When I entered, Ames and Max were having an animated discussion.
The feline growled, “He’s fine. He went back to our room to rest and prepare. Tara and Toby are off doing their meditation or what have you, this is no different.”
Max snorted, “My people said that he looked like he had been hit with a warhammer. Dazed and uncommunicative were their exact words. He’s in no condition to lead.”
Ames made a horizontal swiping gesture with their paw. “He’s fine. End of story. After he gets some rest and bolsters up with those spells of his, he’ll be ready to dive right in.”
“I’m not fine.”
I made the statement with surprising calmness, and it caused both human and were-cat to realize that I had entered the room. I made my way down to the front row of desks and sat on top of one, rather than take a chair. Orcish legs swung freely as my gaze shifted between my mentor and my lover.
I continued, “I’m not fine because it would be ludicrous to be fine after receiving the news that my home village is the conduit for some great evil. I’m not fine because it would be stupid of me to think that this isn’t somehow connected to me, personally. Neither of you are going to convince me otherwise, so don’t bother trying. I’m somehow the inspiration or focus of this latest development. I accept that. It’s not fine, but it’s fact.”
They were both kind enough to wait as I drew a deep breath. “What I do know is that nobody on the face of Panos, outside of some orcs currently residing in a swamp, knows my people better than I do. I know the terrain, I know the threats, and I know every orc tribe south of Ice House. There is nobody more qualified than me to lead this expedition. And if you try to take it away from me, you’ll have a fight on your hands.”
I paused to let that sink in. After a final glance between Ames and Max, I said, “So you’re going to have to be fine with me not being completely fine.”
Both of them nodded silently.
I asked, “What’s next?”
Max frowned. “We wait for the bull and cow. I can tell you that I don’t have an exact compensation figure for this, the elven council is a bit busy as you might imagine. It will be more than fair. And somehow I doubt you care all that much. I have an apprentice running to gather material components for you, assuming your spellbook hasn’t changed significantly from the last time I saw it.”
I murmured, “Thank you Headmaster.”
For once Max took the honorific in stride. “And there will be food and transport waiting for you on the other side.”
Ames tilted their head. “Other side of what?”
The old mage held up a finger. “Just in time.” he called over our heads. We turned to see Toby and Tara hurry into the room. The human waited until they had come down to the front row, and then continued. “The other side of the teleportation that you’re about to undertake. We’re asking you to meet up with your elven friends in Arbitros. As I understand it, they have a method of rapid transport that will allow you to assess the area surrounding your village, Sorch. They can provide an escort as well, for the first part of your journey at least.”
I cleared my throat and nodded. “So there will be supplies and transport. What about everything else that’s happening? The other conduits from the Plane of Negative Energy, the Cult of Harrington in the southwest, whatever the hells we’re doing to coordinate with Koroth’s people?”
Max threw up his hands. “That’s why I’m staying here! I, and some rather unfortunate grad students, will be the communications hub for the entire operation. There’s a mercenary company in Glasson that has agreed to help us out of enlightened self interest, and they’ll be moving in to aid the groups with the remaining conduits. Apparently you’ve made friends at the Temple of Xim as well? They have agreed to help back up the groups with their divine power and an automaton or two. But everyone is stretched thin. The conduits, the war, and now we’re getting reports of flooding from communities on The Shore. If you and the elves need help, find a hidey hole, hunker down, and don’t die. We’ll send help as soon as we can. Questions?”
Surprisingly, there were none.
The new Headmaster took a deep breath. “Good. You can teleport whenever you’re ready. Don’t die.”
Inspired by this pep talk, the four of us gathered our things and headed back out to the reception hall.
I stopped by the University bank before we left. 863 gold. That was what was waiting for Shaman. 863 gold was more than the value of everything that the entire tribe produced in a year. I withdrew it as 8 platinum sovereigns and 63 gold pieces. The sovereigns were thick, heavy coins, but still far lighter than the 100 gold pieces that they would represent. It was time to give Shaman a nice gift.
The teleportation was, as always, just a flicker of reality. Nobody was waiting
upon the bough covered walkway leading up to the elven Circle of Transport. Indeed, it looked like everyone was in quite a hurry to get things done right here in Arbitros. “What’s going on?” I wondered aloud.
“A prelude to war.”
The voice was a familiar one. Councillor Jarotath was the lone elf standing still, or so it seemed. He beckoned us to come down and join him. When we did so, the handsome elf led us to a platform that I hadn’t noticed before. It was located behind the main trunk supporting the teleportation area. A sturdy cage made of wood was suspended by ropes and pulleys. “Apologies for the primitive descent, but time is of the essence.”
Toby seemed to know what to do, at least. When we stepped in the cage, he grabbed one of the thick ropes, while Jarotath grabbed another. Then a little bell rang from a nearby branch. “That’s our counterweight.” the elf explained, and started to pull on the rope. Toby kept time. As we descended, a bit too quickly for my tastes, a second cage full of elves was rising nearby. Ames pointed with a claw. “Counterweight. Hey, are they even helping?” The feline shouted over to the cage that was just drawing level with us, “Pull you scrawny dilettantes!”
Councillor Jarotath started laughing as a couple of the startled elves in the other cage got to work and pulled their own ropes. “Thank you Ames, for being yourself.” murmured the elf lord. We reached the bottom safely and hopped out so that the next group could make use of this device, called an ‘elevator’ as I later discovered.
The woodlands were as beautiful as the last time we had walked through them, but the air was hotter. In fact everything had feverish overtones; normally pale elven faces were flushed with effort, forges were glowing red as their fires were stoked.
As we travelled, our elf escort explained, “Several of our traps and alarms along the borderlands have been tripped. When our people went to check them out, there was no blood. No bodies. They reset and re-warded the snares and pitfalls, only to find them tripped again a few hours later. It’s happening at such a massive scale that a prelude to invasion is the most likely cause.”