by F. P. Spirit
A loud voice blurted out, “Quiet!”
Glo spun around and saw Aksel standing up on his chair. The little cleric eyed everyone with a look of consternation. The others went silent, shocked at the normally soft-spoken gnome. Aksel stepped down off his chair, took a deep breath, then turned to face the Baron. “Sorry, your lordship, but this is getting us nowhere.”
The corners of Gryswold’s mouth upturned slightly. “No, no, you are quite right, Cleric Aksel. Please, the floor is yours.”
Aksel’s eyes briefly swept around the table. They all sat down in turn, chagrinned looks on most of their faces. He then turned to face Elistra. “Would you care to elucidate on that statement?”
The gypsy sat forward in her seat. “Certainly. Let me be clear. I am not saying that the head of the cult is one of the great Thrall Masters, perhaps a lesser one, but my intuition tells me that a true Thrall Master is behind the resurgence of the cult, and my insights are seldom wrong.”
Aksel sat back in his chair, his hand going to his chin. Around the table, eyebrows were raised and glances exchanged, but no one else said a word this time. Glo was intrigued by the words Elistra had just used. Intuition and insight were key psionic phrases, especially if one was a clairvoyant. The more he watched the gypsy, the more he was convinced she was the genuine article. Well, I had been wondering who, or what, was behind the Serpent Cult. A Thrall Master was not the answer I had expected, though.
Aksel sat quietly, mulling over Elistra’s declaration. “Are you saying the Thrall Masters did not die?”
Elistra looked sharply at the little cleric. When she answered, her tone was very measured. “It is not so much whether one or all of them died. This master may or may not be the same individual they were a hundred years ago, but mark my words, there is a Thrall Master on the rise again. He, or she, is out there today, scheming and planning to recover their lost power.”
Aksel eyed Glo curiously. Glo gave a subtle nod in response, acknowledging his belief in this strange woman’s words. Aksel let out a heavy sigh then turned his attention back to Elistra. “If what you are saying is true, then this is indeed far worse than anything we had previously imagined.”
It was Elladan’s turn to speak. “Now hold on a minute. No offense, Elistra, but I’ve read just about every history book on the subject. I’ve even read Dreamweaver’s original works, the same bard who chronicled the end of the Thrall Wars. They were all pretty clear that the Thrall Masters were destroyed.”
All eyes turned to Elistra, but the enigmatic young woman appeared unphased by Elladan’s assertions. When she spoke, her tone was calm and even. “I’ve read most of those same books, good bard, including Dreamweaver’s works. Unfortunately, you cannot always believe what you read. Historians tend to write the past the way they wish things had been, not necessarily the way they actually were.” She paused as if to emphasize her point. “Think of it this way, would you really want to tell a populace that had almost been decimated that the monsters that did so had escaped? And furthermore, that they might come back to plague them again one day?”
Glo silently nodded. Elistra’s explanation made a lot of sense. He, too, had read those same histories. He had to admit, he always found it strange how neatly everything was tied up at the end of the Thrall Wars. Life had a tendency to be far messier than that. Before anyone else could respond, Glo added his two cents. “It makes sense if you think about it.”
From his expression, Elladan still did not seem convinced, but Aksel pursed his lips and nodded. “Go on.”
Glo’s eyes swept across table as he ticked off on his fingers. “First of all, how else would the Serpent Cult know to look for Larketh’s notes at Stone Hill? Second, it would take someone rather powerful to summon that Barghest demon we ran into at the cape. Third, only someone really confident in their own power would send assassins after Maltar. Fourth, members of the actual Wizards’ Council have disappeared, and they make Maltar look like a novice!”
Glo paused to glance around the gathered group. Donnie, Alana, Lloyd, and Andrella all nodded in agreement. Aksel had his hand on his chin, deep in thought. Gryswold, Gracelyn, and Gelpas stared at him, but did not appear to disagree. Even Elladan seemed to be coming around, his brow furrowing as he considered the merit of Glo’s words. Only Seth sat there impassive, fingering his knife nonchalantly as if waiting for the others to make up their minds. “The recruitment of the orc bandits, the goblin army, the use of assassins, and the collection of powerful artifacts all point to the same thing—a potent, well-trained mind organizing and controlling all these pieces. Up till now, I was not sure to what end, but if it were a Thrall Master striving to regain power, then it would all fit.”
Finished with his argument, Glo sat back down. Elistra leaned over, placing a hand on his arm.
“Nicely done,” she whispered to him. He could smell her perfume—a cross between lavender and honeysuckle. He found it strangely soothing.
“So you have no idea which Thrall Master is it?” That was Elladan. He sat forward in his chair staring intently at Elistra. “The Golem Master, Larketh? The Undead Thrall Master? The Thrall Lord himself?”
Elistra locked eyes with the bard, her gaze as intense as his. “It would be too easy to assume it is Larketh, but that would be mere conjecture.”
“It doesn’t really matter which Thrall Master it is. Either way, we still need to stop them,” the Dame Alana declared.
“Dame Alana is right,” Aksel said. “Our immediate goal is to stop the Serpent Cult from gaining Larketh’s works.”
Gryswold spoke up from the head of the table. “Agreed. The plan remains the same. We send a strike force to the Darkwoods Monolith, and I am counting on you to lead that force.”
“That’s all well and fine,” Seth spoke up for the first time in a while. Everyone turned toward the halfling. “But if we are going to do this, then let’s keep it as quiet as possible. We don’t want Dunwynn sticking their noses in any of this. They’ll just get in our way.”
There were a few chuckles around the table but mostly nods of agreement.
“I hate to say it, but I have to agree with Master Seth,” Gryswold said.
All eyes fell on the Dame Alana. The lady knight sighed audibly. “Very well. We will keep this information just amongst us for now. There will come a time, however, when we might need Dunwynn’s strength.”
Elladan gave the lady knight a half-smile. “Maybe, but until that time, let’s play it close to the vest.”
Elistra spoke up again. “Just one more thing—would you mind if I go along with you on this journey?”
“I think it would be a good idea,” Aksel answered before anyone else could respond.
“She has my vote,” Lloyd expressed his approval. “And mine,” Alana agreed.
“She’s been useful so far,” Seth said with a nonchalant nod.
“Fine with me,” Elladan agreed with a half-smile.
“And what about you, Wizard Glolindir?” Elistra asked turning to face him again. “Do you want me to come along?”
Glo eyed her curiously. She stared at him with a straight face, but he could see the mirth in her eyes.
“Oh, most definitely,” he replied. “After all, we cerebral types need to stick together.”
She gazed at him for a moment then burst out laughing. It was a light, airy sound, almost musical in nature, and Glo found it quite charming.
Gryswold rose from his chair. “Now that that is settled, I think it’s time we call it a night. After all, tomorrow is a big day.”
As they rose to leave, Elistra turned to Glo and whispered, “Thank you for believing me.” She reached out and touched his arm again.
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “I could tell your insights were genuine.”
Her eyes were filled with curiosity. “Really? An
d just how do you know that?”
It was his turn to smile. “My mother is a rather accomplished psionicist. She taught me enough of the basics that I can recognize it in others. I would guess that you are a seer... and... a bit of a telepath.”
Elistra gazed at him with clear respect. “You really do know your psionics, then.”
Glo found himself intrigued by this woman. She had a keen mind and was rather attractive. Further, she seemed quite approachable.
“You know,” Elistra continued, her eyes dropping shyly away from his, “it’s not a subject I get to talk about very often.” She paused a moment, then looked back up at him. “Would you care to continue this discussion? Perhaps over a drink?”
She was obviously a strong woman, but at that moment she seemed quite fragile, almost lonely in fact. Glo found himself suddenly wanting to spend more time with her.
“I would love to,” he said with all sincerity. He extended his arm, and she gleefully looped hers through it. As the two of them walked toward the door arm in arm, Glo heard Gryswold clear his throat.
“Oh, and just one last thing.”
Everyone turned around to look at the Baron. “Lloyd, about tomorrow—kick his butt, son.”
Lloyd and Andrella exited the throne room together, the young lady giggling uncontrollably. Lloyd pulled her aside. “What’s so funny?”
Andrella, between fits of silent laughter, managed to get out the words, “I... can’t... believe... he said... that...”
“Oh, yeah,” Lloyd responded, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “That did kind of catch me by surprise.”
Andrella held her chest, trying to regain her composure. Lloyd smiled down at the delightful young lady, but his mind was wandering elsewhere. He knew quite well of Larketh, the Golem Thrall Master. The dwarf was single-handedly responsible for the overrunning of Penwick some hundred years ago. Still, something bothered him. Andrella finally calmed down and gazed up into his eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing really. It’s just... what’s a thrall?”
A thin smile crossed her lips. “You mean, you don’t know?” she said, her tone mocking.
“Do you?” he shot back, feeling foolish for having asked the question in the first place.
Her hands went to her hips. “Of course I do. It’s... it’s...”
“It’s someone who’s been enslaved,” a familiar voice said from behind them. Lloyd whirled around to see Elladan standing in the middle of the hall, a half-smile on his lips.
“I was just going to say that!” Andrella declared.
“Sure you were,” Lloyd teased the obstinate young lady.
Elladan’s half-smile spread into a full grin as he strode their way. “The Thrall Masters were dangerous because they had absolute control over hundreds of creatures—powerful creatures that couldn’t normally be controlled...”
“Like golems!” Andrella interjected.
“Like golems.” Elladan nodded.
“See,” she said elbowing Lloyd in the ribs, “I do know what I am talking about.”
Lloyd grabbed his side. “I... never... doubted you for a minute.” He turned to Elladan. “So how did they control those creatures?”
Elladan’s expression grew puzzled. “No one really knows. I’ve read everything I could get my hands on about the Thrall Masters, but nowhere does it say how they controlled their slaves.”
“Maybe you should ask Elistra,” Andrella said in an innocent voice.
Elladan gave a short laugh. “She does seem to know quite a lot, doesn’t she?” His expression turned thoughtful for a moment, then his half-smile returned. His eyes moved from Andrella to Lloyd. “It is a true mystery, but one for another day. It’s getting kind of late, and Shalla is waiting for me. I’ll let you two be.” He gave Lloyd a quick wink, then spun around and strode away.
“Thanks, Elladan!” Lloyd called after the bard.
“Well then,” Andrella said, her voice dropping very low and throaty, “are you ready to call it a night yet?”
Lloyd turned to see the heated look in the young lady’s eyes, and it made him flush.
His voice dropped to a whisper. “No, not really.” He leaned forward and kissed her passionately on the lips.
Lloyd vs. Fafnar
The two of them collided in the center of the arena, blade to blade, fire and ice
The late morning sky was a deep, tranquil blue, completely cloudless in all directions. The golden rays of the sun nicely warmed the courtyard of Ravenford Keep below. It should have been blissful after the events of these last few days, but unfortunately for Lloyd Stealle, he could not enjoy the gorgeous weather. His future, and the future of all his companions, rested squarely on his shoulders this day.
The young warrior stood in the entryway of a white tarpaulin tent, one of a pair that had been set up for the tournament’s combatants. In front of him, a sixty-by-sixty-foot area had been cordoned off into a makeshift arena. On either side, stands had been erected. Those stands were currently packed, filled with townsfolk, visitors, and even performers from last night’s show. It had spread around like wildfire that Lloyd was to fight the arrogant Sir Fafnar, and it appeared that the entire town had turned out for the battle.
Directly across from him stood a royal box with Gryswold and Gracelynn seated in the center. Immediately to their right sat the three knights from Penwick: Sir Brennon, Sir Duncan, and the recently revived Sir Calric. One chair over from Lady Gracelynn sat Lord Kelvick. The seat to either side of him lay empty. The chair to his left had been reserved for Sir Fafnar, but the haughty noble currently waited in the tent next to Lloyd’s. Lloyd, however, was far more interested in the empty chair between Gracelynn and the Duke. That seat was reserved for Lady Andrella. After last night, Lloyd was sure she would be there to cheer him on. Yet he still had not seen her this morning.
“She’ll be here,” Elladan’s voice sounded from behind him.
Lloyd spun around to face the bard. Elladan and Glo stood there watching him. The rest of the companions had been there earlier, but had left to grab seats in the quickly filling stands. The two elves had opted to stay with him until it was time for his match. They both stood there watching him with shrewd smiles. Lloyd grinned sheepishly back at the duo. They knew him far too well.
“I agree with Elladan,” Glo said. “Andrella wouldn’t miss this.”
Lloyd was about to reply when he heard the sounds of steel on steel. The match prior to his had begun. One of the castle guards, Carlton, was facing off against a large warrior named Brum. The warrior wielded a huge two-handed sword, and Carlton was having a hard time getting near him. Lloyd did not think the battle would last very long. The large warrior, being rather good-natured, was not trying very hard. Once he did, it would be over quickly. Abruptly he heard the tent flaps rustle behind him.
“Am I too late?” an all-too-familiar voice said.
Lloyd spun around just in time to see Andrella come flying through the entrance. She was breathing rather heavily, her face nearly as red as the dress she was wearing. It was a brightly-colored red gown, the identical shade of his home city’s colors.
“No, the other match is still going on,” Elladan answered. “I think it will be over soon, though.”
“Well, I got here as fast as I could. That darned dressmaker took forever finishing this gown!” Andrella rushed across the tent, finally stopping directly in front of him.
Lloyd stood there openmouthed, unable to take his eyes off her. “You... look... breathtaking.”
“Thank you, noble sir.” Her face lit up with a bright smile and she executed an elegant curtsy.
“Ahem...” Elladan cleared his throat. “We’ll just be going now.” “Good luck,” Glo added, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Thanks
, guys,” Lloyd said, not taking his eyes off the beautiful young lady in front of him. He heard the tent flaps rustle once more, and then he was alone with her.
As soon as the tent flap fell, she reached up, threw her arms around his neck, and drew him down toward her. She kissed him ardently, dispelling any residual doubts he had been feeling. His head swam as he tasted her lips on his, smelled the fragrant odor of her hair, and felt the warmth of her soft body pressed against his. Time seemed to stop as they stood locked in each other’s arms. After what seemed like forever, Lloyd reluctantly pulled himself away. Andrella arched back, her face flushed as she looked up into his. She paused a moment to catch her breath, then her expression changed to one of concern.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, not really. It’s just—I need to focus if I am to win today.”
“Oh, and I distract you too much. Is that what you’re saying?” She pushed against him, pretending to be angry.
A wide grin spread across Lloyd’s face. “A distraction I would love any other time.”
Andrella blushed, giggling like a schoolgirl. “My dear, Lloyd Stealle... flattery will get you everywhere.”
It was his turn to blush.
All of a sudden, she pulled away from him. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She reached around her neck and removed the bright red scarf that had been wrapped around it. “Here.” She moved to his side and tied the scarf around his upper left arm.
Lloyd examined the scarf—the letters AA were embroidered on the fabric. It had to stand for Andrella Avernos, the young lady’s initials!
Andrella stood back with her hands on her hips, looking over her handiwork with an expression of satisfaction. “There, you are now my chosen protector. Go out there and make me proud.”
Lloyd could tell she was trying to make light of the situation. What she had done was truly touching. First, she was wearing his colors, and now she had tied her scarf on him. He bowed low and replied in a voice that was intended to mimic Fafnar’s, “Thank you, milady. I will do my best to earn your faith in me.”