by Drew Hayes
“Gelthorn will follow you.” It was Alexis who broke the silence, her quiet out-of-character voice easily heard for a change. “She’ll even stay in the city, if needed. Just... don’t expect too much from her.”
“Timanuel has saved Wimberly’s life more than once,” Bert said. “And we’ve got a whole month until the Grand Quest. Maybe it’s not a bad idea to build up a little good karma, or goodwill of the gods, or whatever.”
“Well, Chalara can’t allow the rest of you to just go off and get killed. Much as she might not like to admit it, she sort of needs you idiots,” Cheri said. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in a quest that does good and gets us a nice payday?”
Tim shook his head. “Given the setting Russell has outlined, Timanuel would assume others will pick up the quests with good rewards. He’d feel the need to help someone who couldn’t afford to offer much. Someone in real need, with little hope.”
“There are certainly quests that ask more than they offer,” Russell said. “You saw some of them before picking the ether-silk one. You’ll just need to turn in your current one and speak to a clerk to find out what’s still available.”
“We will. Thanks, everyone. I know this cuts into our earning time, but I appreciate you being willing to go along with me,” Tim said.
“Paladins are useful to the party,” Cheri replied. “Dealing with all the goodness and duty is the price we pay for healing and ass-kicking. Besides, it might be fun to try altruism for a change. Let’s just not make it the only kind of work we do until the Grand Quest.”
“No, the mission after this will be about getting gold. Even paladins understand the need for that sometimes,” Tim said.
While they talked, Russell flipped through the module, seeing what was available for this timeframe. He skimmed the table, eyes lighting up when he found a temple asking for help, but on closer reading, he saw that that one had already been taken. Then again, he could always overrule that, but it wouldn’t be in the spirit of what Tim was trying to do. Better to give him a quest the book didn’t say someone else had undertaken, so he could truly help someone that no one else would.
Besides, Timanuel served Longinus. He probably wouldn’t care that much about people harassing a temple of Grumble.
Chapter 25
There was little discussion as they rode through the night, both because it wasn’t needed and because there were precious few words worth the risk. Though the roads this close to the Alcatham capital were patrolled by guards, the fact remained that the monsters and beasts of the land always grew more restless at night. Once the compass took them off the official roads and onto rough trails that snaked through sections of forest, silence became an even more important asset. No one knew what lurked among the trees, or when they’d catch up to their prey. All they focused on was being ready to spring at a moment’s notice—a task which became more arduous as time wore on and the lack of sleep began to weaken them.
Finally, when they were far closer to dawn than dusk on the second night, Elora held up a hand and motioned for them to stop. They’d just arrived in a small clearing, and farther down the trail they could see the forest breaking into open plains for at least a time. What there were no signs of, however, was the man they were supposedly chasing.
“Is something wrong?” Thistle whispered. He dearly hoped they hadn’t all just been betrayed by the rogue, but judging from the tension of his friends, it was a possibility each of them was ready for.
“We need to stop and make camp,” Elora told him. “I think we’re getting close. The compass needle hasn’t shifted at all in the last few hours, which means the target is either stationary or traveling in exactly the same direction with no alternations to his path. I’m sure you can guess which is more likely.”
“All the more reason to press on. Let’s strike while he’s unprepared,” Gabrielle said.
“Too dangerous,” Grumph told her. “They’ll have defenses, and we need rest.”
“What makes you think there will be defenses?” Timuscor asked.
“Because there probably will be.” Thistle began the task of dismounting from his horse—a chore that was never easy, especially for those who had to watch, but that he’d more or less gotten the hang of. “We’re well off the kingdom roads at this point, meaning that wherever our mystery man is going, it’s somewhere they don’t welcome visitors. Elora stopped us in this clearing because we still have some cover. Once the forest breaks, we have no idea who might be able to see us.”
“Or maybe this guy just got tired and made camp,” Gabrielle suggested.
“It’s possible,” Elora admitted. “But judging from his finery, he didn’t seem much like the type to sleep in the woods if he could avoid it. Even if he did stop to nap, we still don’t want to approach him, though. You don’t kill hydras by going for the heads; you follow the necks to the body and then stab them in the heart.”
“Fire also works,” Grumph added. Elora gave him an appraising look but didn’t actually say anything about why the half-orc wizard might know how to kill a hydra.
“As Elora pointed out, we don’t know what’s waiting for us, so we need to assume the worst and be ready for a fight,” Thistle said. “And after riding so long with so little sleep, none of us are at our best. If we have the chance to rest, we should take it. The clearer our minds, the better a chance we have at survival.”
Thistle began unpacking his bedroll from his horse, and that seemed to settle the matter. The others followed his lead, save for Eric, who made his way over to Elora.
“We’re going to scout ahead, right? See what’s actually waiting past the trees?”
“At least one of us is,” Elora replied. “Do you think you can handle tagging along?”
“I can’t say for sure. Learning from you has taught me how far I have to go. But I’m never going to get there if I don’t take these opportunities to try,” Eric said. “I’ll come, and if I fall behind, just leave me. The mission is more important.”
“ A little more altruistic than I prefer in my rogues, but not a bad attitude toward learning.” Elora adjusted her cloak and checked her weapons, a habit Eric had noticed she always did before every task. “Do you have your tools? Crossbow? Lock picks?”
“Everything you told me to bring.” Eric spread his own cloak to show the worn crossbow hanging on the opposite side as his short sword.
“We really need to get you daggers or something. Short swords are just so... inelegant,” Elora said.
“Anything is elegant if you wield it with enough grace,” Eric shot back.
“Then you have a lot more training to do. Go tell your friends what we’re up to. I’m going to scout the area to make sure nothing is lurking behind one of these trees, waiting for the right moment to strike.” With that, she took two steps into the woods and all but vanished from sight.
Eric stared into the darkness, wondering how long it would be until he could manage that kind of trick. Finally giving up on seeing her, he shook his head and turned back to tell the others the plan.
* * *
Although he knew it was necessary, Grumph couldn’t seem to fall asleep. He wasn’t worried about monsters sneaking up on them; Elora had declared the area clear, and besides, Gabrielle was currently on watch. Even if something came that was too strong for her to handle, she’d certainly make enough noise to rouse the rest of them. It wasn’t fear of Elora’s possible betrayal that kept him up either—at this point, he’d accepted that they had to trust her, and that would either pan out or it wouldn’t. Worry would prove unproductive.
No, what bothered Grumph were the results of his time scouring the capital’s library. He’d gone in searching for anything he could find about the Bridge, and while there were obviously no references to it by the nickname Aldron—the mad wizard they’d found with the first piece—had given it, Grumph did manage to locate a few stories about people finding powerful artifacts. Not all of them would be Bridge pieces, of
course, but some seemed to fit what he’d seen firsthand. Those who touched the artifacts gained power and abilities beyond themselves, just as Aldron had become a potent wizard, and Grumph had mastered a difficult spell by simply holding a piece of it. All that had merely been confirming what he already knew.
The troubling part, however, was that almost every story he found that seemed as though it might be about the Bridge also mentioned the holders’ going mad. Sometimes it was a quick process; other times it was more gradual. But in nearly every case, it seemed the artifact frayed the owner’s sanity in exchange for the power it granted. Grumph could believe it. The few moments he’d spent with a piece of the Bridge in his grip had threatened to tear his mind apart. There had been so much, so many things outside his realm of reason or understanding, all flooding into his brain. It was no wonder Aldron’s mental cart had gone completely off the trail by the time they found him. In fact, the only person who seemed unbothered by prolonged exposure to the Bridge was Eric, and despite all his research, Grumph had no idea what to make of that.
Really, he wasn’t sure what to do with any of it. The Bridge was dangerous; they’d known that from the beginning. If they tried to get another piece of it, they might die in the attempt, or accidentally destroy themselves with success. However, if they did nothing and someone else gained control, it could be Aldron and the demons all over again. Grumph needed to know more. He was a wizard, and that meant knowledge drove his every action. Yet in three days of searching, he’d turned up so little on the Bridge. And it wasn’t as though he was likely to find what he needed just lying in a book.
He needed information. More than Camnarael’s library could offer. As it stood, the only places he might be able to find out more were either the mages’ guild (assuming he could find anyone there trustworthy enough to discuss the Bridge with) or the legendary library of Lumal. And given how unlikely it was that he’d ever be able to set foot in that city again, Grumph needed to pin his hopes on finding a mage with tremendous knowledge and no desire for more power.
This essentially meant his task was impossible, an issue that would have bothered Grumph far more if not for the myriad of impossible things he’d already accomplished in his life.
* * *
Eric had climbed more than his fair share of trees growing up in Maplebark. He’d been a little too daring, in fact, and taken a tumble from a tall one at age seven that left him with a broken arm that still sometimes twitched in pain when he stretched it too far. At least, it used to. As Eric followed Elora through the branches, he realized that the pain he’d expected was absent. Figuring out why was a quick process, since it had been his left arm that was injured—the same arm that Eric had lopped off to save his friends, and that Grumble had seen fit to restore when he saved Eric’s life. Evidently, the new one didn’t come with the same wear and tear, as Eric was able to grip branches painlessly and pull himself higher.
Climbing was the easy part, at least relatively. The harder aspect was ascending without shaking the branches or making noise. Even a few minutes earlier, he’d have said such a thing was impossible, but Elora doing just that only a few feet above proved his doubts dead wrong. Watching her movements carefully, Eric did his best to replicate them. He was far from perfect, and every time he saw leaves rustle or heard a branch groan, he expected Elora to order him to climb down or hold still. Yet the order never came, so Eric continued to follow, getting a bit better with every branch he grabbed.
He grew so intent on controlling his movements that he didn’t notice Elora had stopped until he reached up for a new hold and nearly grabbed her ankle. Glancing up, he saw her staring down with a mocking grin before nodding forward. Eric traced her motion to a small break in the foliage, where he could see wide plain-surrounded forest. The lighting was dim, with only the stars and moon to see by, and he couldn’t make out anything beyond general shapes.
“See it?” Elora whispered.
Eric shook his head rather than risk speaking. He’d made more than enough noise during his ascent.
“Right, I always forget human eyes don’t adjust to the dark very well.” She rustled around for a moment, somehow managing to not even twitch her branch while burrowing through her pockets. At last she produced a small black spyglass and held it out to Eric. “I mostly use this for seeing far off, but it’s got an enchantment or two that should help.”
Moving slowly and deliberately, trying not to imagine what Elora would do if he dropped what had to be an expensive tool to the ground, Eric raised the spyglass and looked out at the plain once more. This time, it was like seeing the world in bright daylight—everything was crisp and clear. It occurred to Eric that he might have to get an item like this for himself, otherwise they’d be at a disadvantage every time he had to do night scouting. Then he saw the movement, and his mind snapped to the issue at hand.
If not for the guard, Eric might very well have mistaken the structure for an abandoned ruin. In fact, he was almost positive that’s what it had been for quite some while. The building was squat and overgrown by vines, although gray stone still peeked out from the wall of green here and there. Once it might have been a guard station, or perhaps even the house of a hermit. It stood alone, seemingly derelict unless one noticed the signs of careful repair or the man in dark clothes crouched in the shadows of the doorway, carefully watching his surroundings. If not for the enchanted spyglass, he’d be nearly invisible, even if Eric were close enough to make out the house itself with his human eyes. There were bound to be more guards to cover the other side. Despite the late hour, the man under Eric’s watch seemed alert and ready, his head on a constant swivel as he refused to let anything past his attention.
Up until that moment, some part of Eric had wondered if perhaps Elora wasn’t being overly paranoid, demanding he climb a tree that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere without making any noise. Staring at the guard who was unquestionably keeping careful watch over the forest, Eric realized that if they hadn’t been so careful, they’d likely already be exposed. Worse, the guard might be able to rouse others and attack before Eric could alert his friends. Paranoia, it seemed, might be a rogue’s best friend.
“What is that place?” Eric kept his voice so quiet he worried Elora might not be able to hear him. Those concerns quickly faded though, as she descended to his level and whispered back.
“My guess is that it’s exactly what we’re looking for.”
“I mean, is it a base, a waystation, a portal, what? It looks like a rundown house, but that guard seems much too ready for that to be the case,” Eric said.
“I’ve got no idea,” Elora replied. “If it were me, I’d use that house as an easily-guarded entrance and then build tunnels underneath. Give you more space to work with, and only one way in and out. That’s me, though; they might not be that smart. Stop worrying about what might be there and focus on what you can see. All we know for sure is that there’s a building, our mystery man is probably inside, and we have to cross around two hundred feet of open space before we can reach it—an approach that will almost certainly be seen and braced for by the time we arrive.”
“Right... not a great situation. For us. For them, it’s pretty optimal. What do we do?” Eric asked.
“First, we stop whispering in a tree like a pair of gossipy squirrels. Then we go back and rest with the others,” Elora told him. “Once everyone’s more alert, we discuss our options and come up with a plan.”
“Our target might move,” Eric pointed out.
“And that would be fine. Remember, we’re looking for the hydra’s heart. If this is just a place he stopped off to grab a nap, then all the better we don’t waste our time on it. Instead, we follow him to his next stop, and the next, until he either quits moving or we think he’s tricking us.” There was something in her voice, the way she talked about the possibility of deceit, that tipped Eric off. It was a slow process, but he was beginning to read Elora bit by bit.
“You don’t
think that will happen.”
“No, I don’t. This place is out of the way, far from travelers, and well-defended. Even if our guy eventually moves on, something important is here. The smart gold says it’s either the person in charge or someone who can point us to them. Which sucks, because I have no idea how we’re going to manage an approach without drawing attention.”
“Wait, you don’t have any plan at all?” It was only pure discipline that kept Eric’s voice low. Wanting to talk with the others was one thing, but he’d assumed she at least had some sort of inclination of what they would do.
“Obviously not. I know how I’d get in, but that wouldn’t do much good with the rest of you in tow.” Elora jabbed a thumb into her chest, pressing on her leather armor. “Remember, I’m a rogue. I don’t usually deal with other types unless I’m attacking them. And even if I did, we’re not exactly trained in group-battle strategy.”
“I guess that’s true.” It was strange: as arrogant and egotistical as Elora could be at times, she had no trouble admitting when she came up short in an area. As they climbed down, still being careful not to alert the guard, Eric dwelled on that fact. He didn’t think of himself as the type to let ego get in the way, but there was no denying that he’d had occasions where he took on tasks well beyond his ability rather than allow someone more capable do it. Hell, his entire career as a guard was a testament to that. Elora didn’t have that option, though. She worked alone, and if she tried to do something she couldn’t, it might very well get her killed.
Though she hadn’t intentionally tried to teach it, by the time they were at the bottom of the tree, Eric had concluded that this might be his most important lesson as a rogue. Knowing his limits was as vital as knowing his talents, as was owning up to them when the situation demanded it. If Eric wanted to be a better rogue, he’d have to determine his failings.