Impossible, actually. The Worldwound was more than just a demon-blighted realm. It had manifested on Golarion shortly after the death of the man-god Aroden. It was said that his dying caused a planar shift—a very slight alteration in Golarion’s existence tilting it closer to the Abyss. The nation of Sarkoris had been engulfed and destroyed as demonic energies and creatures poured into the region. The former had meant the continual reshaping and distorting of everything, including any surviving inhabitants.
Since that time, a constant war had raged. Demonic forces sought to encroach on the rest of the world while human crusades arose seeking to eradicate them.
At best, the result was a tenuous stalemate. However, the lure of ancient treasure—and in the case of a Pathfinder, knowledge—meant there were always those willing to enter the Worldwound … and perhaps somehow make things worse in the process.
She tried not to think about that last part. She had reasons for being here. Good ones.
Not for the first time, Shiera’s horse slowed. The animal had more sense than her. It wanted to follow the ones she had sent off toward Kenabres.
The horse trailing behind them snorted warily. Laden with what supplies Shiera could quickly pack onto it from the rest, it made for a prime target for any predator. Shiera felt guilty about forcing the animal into such a role, but ever the hunt for Uhl-Adanar beckoned her.
Your ambition is admirable … in moderation. So Amadan Gwinn had told her when first she had posed the question of just who deserved the recognition for the expedition’s discoveries. It needs more seasoning before it can be allowed to flourish, though.
She wondered what he would make of her now. Perhaps when he had been much younger, Amadan Gwinn might have taken the same risks she had. Now, though, Shiera was certain that he would have been the first to recommend turning back. Daryus Gaunt would not have represented much of a defense to the senior Pathfinder. Amadan Gwinn would have had fifty soldiers armed to the teeth around him … which had been near the truth on his last expedition.
But right at this moment, Shiera Tristane would have been very happy with just the former crusader at her side.
She left herself scant thought concerning Raffan. She had agreed to him traveling with her because he had been the controller of his master’s purse strings. Now that Shiera was well into the Worldwound and had enough supplies for a lone person, Raffan was not important. When she returned—when she kept telling herself, not if—she would present her findings to the overdressed man. That would certainly assuage Raffan and his master.
Thunder rolled. Shiera peered up at the sky, but didn’t worry overmuch. The sky here was overcast, but not in the way she thought it had been prior to the demon’s storm. Of course, this being the Worldwound, she remained well aware that natural conditions did not exist. For all she knew, a storm was imminent. However, she dared not think in those terms, lest she never reach the lost temple-city.
Thus far, she had chosen her route based on the general area where she believed she would find Uhl-Adanar. Prior to departing Nerosyan, Shiera had poured over every reasonable map of the Worldwound that she could lay her hands on. Now, those maps remained a part of her memory, every detail there to be summoned when she needed it.
Twilight was nearly upon her, but she hoped to still squeeze out an hour of riding. If she was correct, then just around the low hill she was currently skirting she would find—
Shiera pulled hard on the reins as she stared at the landscape ahead. Instead of the rocky plain her memories of the maps insisted had to be there, a long, narrow valley stretched as far as the eye could see.
Either the maps are all wrong … or the Worldwound has changed itself … She glared at the valley as if that would transform it back into the missing plain—something that was not altogether out of the question.
Seeing the landscape’s mutability for the first time on such a scale proved daunting even to her. Suddenly all her cartographic knowledge was suspect. If such a huge landmark could exist despite what all the maps said, then even her carefully crafted route might be worthless.
Unwilling to admit to such a devastating blow, Shiera immediately set about locating another landmark—any landmark—that would give her some notion as to where she was.
She had nearly given up when she caught sight of a ridge far to the south shaped like a hawk’s beak. Pleased to find that at least one of her landmarks existed, she immediately began reassessing her current position. With some urging, Shiera convinced her horse to ride toward the ridge. If all went well, she believed the ridge would lead her to specific clues regarding—
A dark form raced between the mounts. The other horse shied, then pulled free. Try as she might, Shiera cold not focus on the scurrying creature in time to make out what it was. She only knew it had to be larger than a cat, almost as large as a moderately sized hound.
Shiera dismounted. She gave a short whistle that brought the second horse to a halt. With both nervous animals under her control again, she glanced left and right in search of whatever had been stalking the horses, but found nothing. Still, she could not shake off the feeling that the thing remained nearby.
Mounting again, she forced herself to keep the horses at a slower, more deliberate pace. The stronger control proved beneficial to the animals, who moved along more calmly.
As she rode, Shiera summoned up in her thoughts the landmarks that would follow after the ridge. If even one or two of them were still recognizable, then she would have no trouble keeping on her quest.
Despite her best efforts, she did not make as much distance as she hoped. Darkness descended, and with it the knowledge that not even a fool would continue through the Worldwound at night.
A gnarled, decaying tree overlooked the most likely spot for her to use as a campsite. She dismounted, took care of the horses, then tried to settle down. Although she had the makings of a campfire in the dry, scattered branches from the dead tree, Shiera decided against building one. A fire here would be like a beacon to whatever else lurked in the vicinity.
That did not mean she intended to simply sit there and take her chances. She pulled out the small crossbow and set one of the bolts into it. The other bolts she kept within easy reach. Then she sat against the tree, weapon cocked. As a Pathfinder, she had learned to put herself into a mental state between waking and actual sleep. It was not the best way of resting, but it would serve her here. If the maps retained enough accuracy, tomorrow she would find a safer place to sleep.
From another pouch, Shiera drew a few pieces of dried meat. While it wasn’t the most appetizing of meals, she had long ago grown used to the taste. What mattered was that it would keep her strong. She thanked the late Captain Galifar for providing her with enough to last quite some time—long enough, so she hoped, for her to get the lay of the land and start hunting.
This is insane! Amadan Gwinn’s voice in her head again. Shiera knew these were not words the veteran Pathfinder had uttered, but rather her own mind using his voice in yet another attempt to convince her to turn from this foolishness.
Yet no matter how many times the voice repeated the declaration, Shiera knew she would go on.
The horses huddled together and shifted as close to her as they could. Shiera was grateful for their nearness. Thus far, aside from the small matter of the mercenaries, the Worldwound had been very quiet, but she knew that could be the lull before the storm.
The horses suddenly snorted. Shiera tensed. There was a brief pattering of feet in the darkness.
Tiny gibbering voices rose around her, but especially from one direction.
She fired.
A harsh squeal erupted from the darkness. A flurry of movement followed, growing more distant with each second. The mad gibbering faded with the movement.
The crossbow reloaded, Shiera leapt up and took a few steps toward where the creature had been. Something glistened faintly on the ground. Blood, she decided, but of a yellow-green color and thicker than hers would
have been. She had hit squarely whatever had been lurking in the dark. Shiera doubted it would live out the night. Either the loss of blood would kill it … or the smell of blood would bring other predators seeking an easy meal.
Returning to the tree, Shiera settled down once more. While she had taken some satisfaction in finally being able to strike back at some enemy—even if but an unseen beast—she knew that the incident was just a hint of what might come.
* * *
Dawn—or rather a fiery gray facsimile of it—came at last. Shiera had heard a few other noises hinting that she and the horses were not alone, but nothing had repeated the overconfidence of the gibbering creature.
She wasted no time in moving on. Somewhere nearby she knew there had to be a water source. That and food were her only priorities other than moving on in search of the temple-city.
Once more Amadan Gwinn’s pompous voice reminded her of the odds of surviving the Worldwound, and once more she ignored it. More and more, Shiera truly believed that she was on the right trail, that Uhl-Adanar would soon be in her sights.
Her confident thoughts were interrupted by an anxious snort from her mount. Crossbow at the ready, Shiera looked for whatever threat the animal had sensed.
Instead, she spotted the splatter-covered fragments of what looked like bits of a giant wasp or some similar creature. The splatter was the same bloody goo she had seen last night. Whatever the creature had been, it had been had been the size of a small dog.
And whatever it had been still had her bolt buried in the remnants of its carcass.
The utter destruction of her wounded night visitor did not bother her so much as how near to the campsite it had been brought down. Whatever had slaughtered the beast had not been all that far from where Shiera had slept.
Double-checking the bolt in her crossbow, Shiera urged her mount on. Even when the ruined corpse was far behind her, she did not relax.
The narrow valley beckoned to her. Shiera paused as three different routes offered themselves. The one in the center looked the best, but that alone made her suspicious. Shiera eyed the one to her left, which seemed to wind into the rockier part of the valley in a very uninviting way. The third revealed no outright objections, yet did not give her enough to be certain that it did not go wandering off the wrong way later on.
Grimacing, Shiera decided to stick with the center. However, no sooner had she done so than she felt a coldness at her side.
Reaching down, she sought the source of the peculiar chill. To her surprise, it was the ancient coin that Raffan had given her in her chambers. Shiera had kept the coin on her in order to study it from time to time, but hadn’t paid it any mind under the circumstances of the past few days.
Now it not only radiated the strange coldness, but also glowed a faint blue. Shiera eyed the artifact, both marveling at what it did and wondering what it meant.
When nothing else happened, she impatiently gripped the cold coin and shook the reins. The horse started down the center path.
“Aaa!” The coin was now so cold it threatened to give her frostbite. Pulling tight on the reins, Shiera opened her palm and glared at the offending artifact.
Then, on a hunch, she eyed the other two paths. After a moment’s consideration, she steered her mount toward the path on the right.
The coin grew colder.
She immediately forced her horse to the remaining trail. As she expected, the chill faded.
Shiera pondered her discovery. Some ancient force in the coin reacted either to the paths or to some other artifact along the correct trail. Either way, her heart pounded with excitement at this new clue. Finding Uhl-Adanar and the tomb of the supposed god Tzadn seemed not only imminent, but truly her destiny.
With growing eagerness, she rode into the valley. In contrast, the horses remained reluctant, but Shiera overrode their concerns. She was aware they smelled the foulness of the Worldwound. However, other than turning around and riding from the region, she could do nothing to assuage their fears. The Worldwound was, after all, the Worldwound.
The path was not an easy one. Much of it was steep, with loose rock all along the way. That made for much slower going and also caused Shiera to wonder if she had been misled concerning just which way to take.
As the hours passed and her progress continued to be far less than she hoped, Shiera tried to decide where best to pause. The area was quiet, which on the surface seemed a good thing, but she could not help feeling she was missing something.
She suddenly looked over her shoulder. For just a moment, Shiera had felt as if she were being watched, yet there was no hint of anyone or anything.
The trail leveled out. She spotted a trickle of water and guided the horses toward it—
This time, the sense that she was being observed was so strong that she had to swivel in her saddle to make certain she looked in every direction. Even after that, the feeling persisted, to the point that Shiera finally looked skyward.
Something darted out of sight.
Shiera brought up the crossbow. It had only been a brief glimpse, but the wings hadn’t been like those of a bird, but rather leathery like a bat’s.
After more than a minute of futilely watching, Shiera lowered her weapon. With more caution, she brought the horses to the water and, after checking the stream for anything suspicious, let them drink.
The brush nearby rustled. Shiera spun and shot.
The bolt hit the brush, but apparently nothing else. However, a second later, a small fringed lizard scurried from the area.
Grimacing, Shiera went and retrieved the bolt. She returned to the horses, mounted, and started back on the trail.
From the brush arose more rustling, this time with a violence and intensity no tiny lizard could have created.
Shiera did not hesitate. She brought the crossbow around and fired.
As the bolt hit the brush, an angry chittering arose. A winged form burst from the branches.
A horrific winged form with a body akin to some macabre melding of a locust and a wasp the size of a small dog rose to eye level. The creature had no discernible eyes, no other features at all save a wide humanoid mouth full of teeth. A mouth that, if anything, managed to open twice as wide when the monstrosity began the unsettling chittering she had heard earlier.
And from the brush all around her rose more … each of them seemingly larger and hungrier-looking than the previous.
Vescavors. Shiera had read about these when researching the Worldwound’s myriad dangers. Not true demons, but vermin that prowled the steaming crevices and jungles of the Abyss. While she might normally be proud of such a quick identification, in this case the knowledge brought Shiera little comfort, as did the fact that somewhere in the vicinity might be their queen, an even deadlier threat.
She reloaded quickly and fired again. This time, she caught one dead center. Yellow-green goo flying everywhere, the chittering monster plummeted.
With a manic increase in their chittering, several of the others turned to the free meal. Shiera breathed a sigh of relief, then cursed as out of other parts of the surrounding brush burst more of the vermin. Unlike the others, these focused solely on Shiera and her animals.
Shiera urged her horse on … and three more of the hideous creatures jumped out in front of her. Her horse reared, causing Shiera to lose her grip on the pack animal.
Bereft of Shiera’s control, the second horse panicked and ran off. Immediately, most of the swarm scattered after it. While that aided Shiera some, there were still more than enough of the horrific vermin to be a danger.
Using the gap opened by the other horse’s flight, Shiera pushed her mount. The horse galloped down the uneven trail, stumbling here and there and at times threatening to toss Shiera off. The vescavors soared after, proving that they were capable of astounding speed and grace.
She managed another shot, which missed but at least sent one of the lead creatures darting away for a moment. That bought Shiera precious seconds, bu
t little more.
The horse stumbled again. Suddenly, the desperate animal began sliding down the valley. Shiera gripped the reins tighter and tried to guide the horse to safer ground, but the beast was no longer paying her commands any mind.
The trail finally leveled out some. The horse succeeded in regaining some balance. That in turn enabled it to pick up its own pace. The gap started to grow.
Some of the swarm fell away. However, half a dozen determined fiends continued after, their blood-red eyes eager.
The trail converged ahead. Shiera had to make a swift decision. The horse already leaned to the left, so she chose that direction.
Barely had she committed them than the chill touched her side again.
“No, damn it!” Despite the discovery that she had chosen wrong, Shiera could do nothing but keep riding. She hoped that somewhere along the way, she would be able to adjust.
The trail dropped steeply.
This time, the frightened horse could not keep itself righted. Its hooves scraping for some sort of hold, it slid several yards down … and then toppled forward.
Tossing the crossbow ahead of her, Shiera managed to jump just in time. As she dropped to the side of the path, the horse flipped over once, then rolled farther down.
Shiera struck hard, but forced herself to roll into a crouching position despite her pain. She quickly drew her sword, then searched for the crossbow. She plucked up the weapon and hung it at her side. For now, the sword would do better.
But when she turned to face the pack, she found herself alone. Only when she heard the horse’s terrified cries did she realize that the vermin had continued on after the biggest and easiest meal available. Shiera could not imagine the horse having gone through such a fall without breaking at least one leg. That would be all it took for the fiends to finish it.
The cold radiating from the coin continued to irritate her side. Keeping a wary eye on the trail she had abandoned, Shiera attempted to reach the correct route on foot.
Pathfinder Tales--Reaper's Eye Page 15
