Once Around the Realms (single books)

by Brian Thomsen

Yes.

  "Who is that?" Shurleen whispered.

  "The Prince of Lies himself probably, we must avert our eyes so as to not be taken in by his trickery," Volo instructed.

  The travelers hooded their eyes with their hands, focusing only on the next step in front of them.

  Only Passepout dared to look up for a fraction of a second, but common sense intervened, and he quickly rehooded his eyes. Concentrating as he walked, he vaguely remembered a glimpse of some underworld castle but couldn't really remember if it was a tower, a pyramid, or a mansion of bone, and despite the murmuring, no one seemed to be home.

  Am I curious enough to look back? he thought, then quickly dismissed the idea. Even if he was as brave as Mad Monkey seemed to think, bravery alone was a silly justification for foolhardiness.

  In the distance behind them, they could hear a new ream of maniacal laughter.

  They pressed on down the path faster, hoping that a light would soon appear in the distance.

  At last a glimmer of sunlight seemed to be emanating from a crack in the darkness in the distance.

  "There," Volo declared. "That must be the way out."

  "Just like he promised," Passepout agreed. "And no harm has come to us since we stayed on the path and kept to ourselves."

  "I'll be glad when we're out of here," Curtis confessed. "I can't wait to feel daylight again."

  Though the crack of light was still a good distance away, their journey toward it, now that it was visible, passed quickly. Along the way, they could barely make out the gleam of lights reflected off shiny faceted surfaces. As they drew closer to the shaft of light that was their exit, the surfaces became more distinguishable, revealing that the tunnel surface that seemed to surround them was entirely composed of loose gems of indefinable value.

  "Maybe we should pick up a souvenir, sort of a very valuable keepsake," Curtis suggested. "It's not like there are any armed guards around or anything."

  "I wouldn't do that," Volo advised. "I remember the story of a mortal who, like ourselves, was granted a trip through the nether realms. She was warned to eat nothing, talk to no one, and stay on the path. She stuck to the rules with one exception-she ate three pomegranate seeds. When it came time to leave, her way out was blocked by an invisible wall. No one ever heard of her again."

  "That sounds like a fairy tale," Shurleen scoffed, "and besides, Mad Monkey didn't say we couldn't pick something up along the way."

  "Mad Monkey didn't say a lot of things," Volo replied, "and I don't think he felt compelled to tell us not to steal, if you know what I mean."

  "Oh, phoo!" Shurleen complained. "Let's just get out of here."

  The four travelers hurried to the crack of light that was the passage back to the surface world.

  "Ladies before gentlemen," Volo offered, giving a mock bow, and indicating that Shurleen could go first.

  "It's about time," she answered, about to barge through the crack.

  "Wait a minute," Passepout interrupted, blocking her way. "I don't think letting her go first is such a good idea." The chubby thespian had just recalled his own close encounter with a beholder on the other side of the Myth Drannor portal.

  "What do you mean?" the spoiled heiress demanded.

  "Who knows what is on the other side? Mad Monkey only guaranteed us safe passage. He didn't mention anything about safe arrival," Passepout replied.

  "Passepout is right," Curtis agreed. "Who knows what could be lurking out there? I'll go first."

  "Agreed," said Volo, making way for Curtis to pass.

  Curtis stepped forward into the light and seemed to disappear.

  "All clear," he yelled, seemingly from afar. "Nothing here except a dark-skinned halfling, and he seems to be agreeable enough."

  "Satisfied?" Shurleen asked sarcastically.

  "Next," Volo instructed, indicating for her to pass.

  Shurleen barged forward into the light but wasn't able to pass through.

  "It's closed," she screamed in a panic, backing away from the light. "I can't get through."

  "Empty your pockets," Volo instructed.

  "Why?" She pouted.

  "Just do it!" the master traveler demanded, growing very impatient.

  Shurleen turned out her pockets.

  They were empty.

  "Let me see your hands," Volo demanded.

  "Why?" she protested, hiding her palms.

  Faster than a pickpocket at the Westgate fair, Volo grabbed her wrist and turned her hand over, revealing the palm of her hand.

  A red ruby seemed to be stuck to it.

  "It won't come off," she protested. "I picked it up back at the ruined castle, and it sort of got stuck to my hand. Now it won't come off."

  "Maybe there is some truth to that fairy tale," Volo remarked.

  The gravity of her situation dawned on her.

  "No," she cried. "I can't stay here. What about Dragon Claw? What about Cyric? You can't just leave me here."

  Volo was troubled. Though she was no picnic in the Dales, and a regular pain in the South, he knew he couldn't just leave her behind in the netherworld. He also noticed that since Curtis had passed into the light, the portal had indeed become smaller, and was shrinking as he watched.

  "Let me try again?" she pleaded.

  "It won't work," Volo replied, frantically fingering his beard.

  "Wait!" Passepout exclaimed. "I have an idea!"

  The chubby thespian looked into his pouch, smiled, and pulled out one of the necromancer's gems that had just turned red.

  "Let's see if the guards of this portal, or whatever is holding her back, will take a substitute," Passepout said, lobbing the necromancer's gem back the way they came.

  The gem bounced twice, and then proceeded to roll away from them.

  "Now try," Passepout instructed.

  "Hurry!" Volo urged.

  Shurleen rushed forward and passed to the other side.

  "Good thinking," Volo complimented, "now quickly, the portal is closing."

  The two travelers rushed forward into the light, the portal closing behind them.

  When their eyes had adjusted to the new infusion of sunlight, they noticed that they were standing on a sandy mountainside. The heat was oppressive, and the terrain was rocky.

  Blinking his eyes, and then squinting until he could see clearly, Volo noticed the halfling that Curtis had been talking about, who had now been joined by a man of normal height.

  "Look boss," the halfling told the man, who was apparently his master. "The planes… they are visitors from the planes."

  The man strode forward, and said, "My friends, welcome to Maztica."

  Chapter 18

  The land across the sea or Viva Maztica!

  "Maztica," Volo repeated.

  "Yeah," Curtis interjected, "that's what the man said."

  "Somehow I didn't think we were in Kara-Tur anymore," Passepout added.

  "Maztica?" Shurleen repeated the place's name, though this time as a question. "Where is Maztica?"

  "It's on the whole other side of the world," Volo explained. "It's on the other side of the Trackless

  Sea, farther than fabled Evermeet. It was colonized a few years ago by conquerors and settlers from the Empire of the Sands and the island kingdom of Lantan."

  "I see you have heard of our fair land," the man who welcomed them replied in impeccable Common.

  "And you are originally from Faerun, the Empire of the Sands, I would guess," Volo continued. "A former soldier, I would say, though apparently one who hasn't seen much action or physical work in the last year or so."

  "You are a most excellent master of the powers of observation," the man replied. "What is your name?"

  "I am Volothamp Geddarm, master traveler of all Toril," Volo announced proudly.

  "I have heard of you," the man replied, "and your guides, but surely you are not writing one on the continent of Maztica."

  Volo chose his worlds carefully.

  "No, not
at the present time, though I'm sure I will get around to it one of these days. At the present time, I and my friends are engaged on a world tour, you might say," Volo explained. "We sort of made a wrong turn in Kara-Tur, passed through a portal, and came out here."

  "Uh-hum." Shurleen cleared her throat.

  "Oh, I'm sorry," Volo apologized. "This is the lovely Shurleen Laduce Bleth."

  "Charmed, I'm sure," Shurleen said to the handsome gentleman, offering him her hand.

  He graciously accepted and kissed it. "The pleasure is mine," the man replied.

  "And this is my good friend, Passepout," Volo continued.

  "The thespian," Passepout clarified, "son of the famed thespians Catinflas and Idle."

  "Honored," the man replied, giving the thespian a firm handshake.

  "And our traveling companion, and jack of all trades, Curtis," Volo concluded the introductions.

  "Curtis," the man repeated, with a faint nod of his head to the young beachcomber.

  "And you are…?" Curtis inquired, a trace of insolence in his voice.

  "I am Rurk," the man replied. "The, urn, governor of Phantasia. That is what we call this settlement."

  "What settlement?" Curtis asked. "All I see is the edge of a desert and a rocky ridge."

  "True, true," Rurk replied, "but beyond that ridge lies Phantasia, a land worthy of your wildest dreams. Come. You shall be my guests. Herve, run ahead, and tell the servants to ready the guest quarters."

  "Yes, boss," the halfling replied, scurrying ahead through a pass in the rocky ridge.

  "Herve is my right-hand halfling, you might say," Rurk explained. "Part interpreter, part manager, he helps me keep things running smoothly and minimizes the troubles with the natives."

  "He is a native?" Volo asked.

  "Well, yes and no," Rurk explained. "He is a native of Maztica, but from the lands north of here, where I first landed when I came here. He was hired at our camp to take care of certain menial duties and took quickly to the Common tongue. I hired him as my interpreter, and when duty called for me to come south, well, obviously he came along."

  "I see," Volo replied. "What was the purpose of your mission, coming south, I mean?"

  "Questions, questions," Rurk replied, shaking his head in dismissal. "There is plenty of time for questions later. Even the loveliest desert flower will wilt if left in the sun too long, and I have no desire to subject Miss Bleth to such a risk. Follow me. It is only a short walk to my humble dwelling, where shade and refreshments await. We can continue our getting to know each other a little better later." Rurk then brushed off some seemingly imaginary trail dust from his perfectly tailored doublet of light, gauzy material, and offered his arm to Shurleen, saying, "Miss Bleth, if you will do me the honor."

  "Charmed, I am sure," she replied, accepting his arm and falling into step beside him as he set off along the path that Herve had taken a few moments ago.

  Volo looked to the others, and inquired, "Shall we?"

  "Charmed, I'm sure," Curtis replied in a tone meant to mock Shurleen.

  "You know, I can't put my finger on it, but there's something about that guy that I don't like," Passepout offered.

  "I know," Volo replied, "but right now he's the only game in town."

  The three fell into step and followed the route Rurk had taken.

  The settlement known as Phantasia was little more than a few clusters of huts and hovels around a large estate manor house that Rurk referred to as the governor's palace. The natives of the area were of a darker color, similar to that of Herve the halfling, and were for the most part short, with muscular builds and intense black eyes.

  As Rurk would pass, the natives would bow, saying, "Mis Ta Rurk," their tone highly respectful.

  "That is what they call me," Rurk explained. "They once overheard Herve calling me mister, and they assumed that was my title. I've seen no reason to dissuade them."

  Along the way to the mansion they also passed an arena-like structure composed of a playing field between two high parallel walls. They also passed several boiling works where fruit was distilled into a sort of wine juice, and where sap from nearby rubber trees was melted and molded into strips for weaving and tying. Several native women were in the process of weaving the strands into a hammock. The mansion itself had a Tethyrian flavor to its architecture: a large veranda-like porch where several woven thrones had been placed, each framed by two servants, one holding a tray with a pitcher and a cup, the other holding a huge plumed fan.

  "Here we are," Rurk announced. "Take a seat and be comfortable."

  Rurk escorted Shurleen to the throne on the farthest right, and then seated himself immediately to her left. The others followed suit, Volo next to him, Passepout next, and Curtis on the end.

  Curtis, however, did not remain seated long, and preferred to sip from his drink while walking back and forth on the porch, causing the servant holding the fan a great deal of difficulty. The servant continued to follow at a respectful distance but had to be close enough to still cool the guest of his master, Rurk.

  Curtis quickly became frustrated at running into the plume fan every time he turned around, and finally said to the servant, "Will you just leave me alone?"

  A look of mortal terror passed on the servant's face.

  Rurk clapped his hands, and Herve appeared at his side. The two exchanged whispers, at which point Herve said something to the servant, who immediately responded with a relieved look and left the porch.

  "There is no reason to be uncomfortable or nervous, Curtis," Rurk explained. "The servants are solely here for our comfort. And I do hope my guests are comfortable."

  "Why, sure," Shurleen replied, having a peeled grape popped into her mouth.

  "And we greatly appreciate your hospitality," Volo offered. "So how many are you?"

  "Excuse me," Rurk replied, not quite sure about the question.

  "Others from Faerun in this settlement," Volo clarified, "in the province for which you are governor."

  "Oh, I see," Rurk replied carefully. "I came down from the North with twenty of my best men. Ten are still here in similar accommodations along the ridge. The others fell victim to the hazards of this paradise known as Maztica. Disease, accidents, you know the risks."

  "That flag over there," Volo pointed out. "I don't recognize it."

  "It was our divisional flag."

  "I see," said Volo, seemingly dropping the conversation.

  Rurk stood up.

  "My newfound friends from Faerun, accommodations have been made for you in my humble abode.

  It is now siesta time, and I am sure that you will all want to rest. Herve will escort you gentlemen to your room, while I will personally escort the lovely Shurleen to her private accommodations."

  "Charmed, I'm sure," Shurleen responded, once again taking Rurk's arm.

  "Mind if I tag along?" Curtis asked, a feeling of uneasiness in his voice.

  "Yes, I do," Shurleen replied brusquely. "It's about time I was treated to some privacy."

  Rurk and Shurleen continued down one veranda passageway, while the three male travelers followed the halfling down the other.

  "I think there's something rotten in this province in Maztica," Curtis whispered churlishly, "and I don't like it."

  Passepout, his heart gradually recovering from being broken, tried to lend a sympathetic ear to the young beachcomber. "I don't like the way that Rurk has his arms all over Shurleen, any better than you do, but you have to admit he's a hospitable host."

  "For now," Volo interjected, "for now."

  The room that they were escorted to was a more than adequate common room with three beds for reclining, three more woven thrones, and a bell cord to summon servants.

  "If you require anything, please feel free to ring the bell. These are your room servants," Herve instructed, indicating three heavyset women standing in the hall. "They don't speak Common, but I am sure that you can make your desires known to them."

  One
of the servants Volo recognized as one of the hammock weavers from the rubber plant. She was as wide as the chubby thespian, though not as tall, and possessed a face that might have been attractive for a warthog. She gave Passepout a knowing wink and a smile as she closed the door behind Herve.

  "I think she likes you," Curtis said to Passepout.

  "Not if I can help it," replied the chubby thespian, a shiver of revulsion passing through his entire body.

  "Isn't it strange that with such a large mansion available, Rurk would seemingly situate us at the complete opposite end of the building from Shurleen?" Volo pointed out.

  "I noticed that," Curtis agreed. "That is why I offered to tag along, to at least see where he was putting her."

  "I'm sure that was the only reason," Passepout jibed.

  Curtis did not respond, and Passepout thought better of pushing the issue. He changed the subject. "And what was all that business about the flag, Volo?"

  "Indeed," Volo replied. "I'm afraid that we are in the hands of a renegade Tethyrian mercenary warlord who has deserted his unit to the north and set up his own fantasy kingdom in this remote settlement."

  "That's why there is only the division's flag, his flag," Curtis agreed.

  "But what does that mean to us?" Passepout asked.

  "It means," Volo replied, "that for the time being he can do anything he wants with us."

  A little over an hour later, Herve returned to the quarters of the three travelers to take them down to dinner in the room behind the main veranda where they had been sitting earlier that day. Rurk was already seated at the head of the table when they arrived, and indicated that they should join him, leaving the seat by him free for Shurleen, who had yet to arrive for the meal.

  The lovely Miss Bleth informs me that you will probably be wishing to resume your travels eastward as soon as possible," Rurk said, then resumed sipping a cup of distilled fruit wine.

  "Yes," Volo replied, not wishing to give too much away, "we have pressing business awaiting us in Suzail."

  Just then, Shurleen entered the hall, or rather more correctly floated into the hall, her pampered, beauteous body held aloft a foot off the ground by the gown of feathers she was wearing.