The keel of Ganden’s vessel descended low enough to touch the line of gray clouds. In moments, feathery wisps curled around the ancient hull as it plowed lower. In the light of Aburis, the largest moon, the ship gracefully and quietly dipped deeper into the sea of haze. The skeletal masts were the last glance of the ship as it slipped into the veil of clouds. Lindon’s last notes echoed through the air before fading like the great ship itself.
Then the levitation boat holding the companions also dropped low enough to be swallowed by the clouds. The shrouding fog billowed up around the craft, leaving them feeling isolated in the gloom.
CHAPTER 22 “Revelations in the Mist”
The setting might have been reminiscent of tales told around a nighttime campfire in the wilderness, when the darkness of the world around that dim light isolated listeners so that they might further indulge in the storyteller’s tale. Instead of a flickering campfire, they had a steady illumination coming from the glass orb containing the holy water. In place of a dark wood, they were surrounded by the fog of clouds. In that setting, the mists around them and the lack of a true fire conspired to seep the warmth from their bodies as they listened to Trestan and Cat talk about the events four years ago. The Companions of the Relics, as they had been dubbed by the villagers of Troutbrook back then, explained their previous adventures when Revwar and Savannah stole three stone relics of mysterious powers. They described how they had finally taken the relics back from the band and placed them back with the rightful owners. One stone went back to Troutbrook, the second was returned to Korrelothar’s guild, and the third stone of unknown origin also went to the wizard guild for study. The others in the boat were told of how Revwar and Savannah recently returned with new allies. Many details were shared regarding how they retrieved the stone from Trestan’s village by force.
Sondra listened quietly, still greatly distracted by the loss of Ganden’s ship. The cleric tried ineffectively to hide her weeping, as she absently twisted a holy symbol around in her fingers. It was mostly hidden within her hands, but Trestan could make out that it was in the shape of a dog.
Lindon and Montanya provided some insight into the new allies that had joined Revwar’s band. Lindon informed them of his first encounter with Jentan Mollamos; when the man had tried to magically seduce a friend of the minstrel. The performer briefly recalled for them the troubles with Jentan at the recital prior to performing on the Doranil Star.
“He is a mentalist,” Lindon spoke at one point, “His domain of study specializes in illusions and other tricks of the mind. He seems very good at it, needing only one small hint of a flaw by which he can use his sorcerous hooks to fool your mind.”
Montanya, for her part, told them of her encounter with Kemora when the rogue had stolen the illusion mask. She left out any part about living on the street or being starved for food. The chiaso revealed she had followed the halfling in human guise to the mage guild, and thus snuck aboard the divine chariot at that point.
“But I consider them all thieves!” Montanya said with conviction. “That elf took my most precious possession…the last reminder I had of both of my parents.”
Sondra, still shedding tears, interrupted in a low tone. “You cast that title about too generously. By your estimation, all the people of the churches are cutthroats.”
That remark earned her another scowl from the chiaso. “Are you denying that my heirloom is missing? You remember the gold locket I owned. My memory is a bit fuzzy, but I clearly remember the elf wizard snatching it from my neck.”
Sondra did not bother trying to make any replies. She continued to sulk while twisting the dog-shaped pendant hanging from her neck. The others on the lifeboat impassively watched the exchange between the two women.
Montanya continued voicing her strong opinions. “What do you know of the real world anyway? You collect coppers from homeless while telling them to save their souls. It is an easy job because you don’t even have to rely on any hard evidence to tell you whether or not their soul is saved. Of course, your intentions are honorable, so you have justified it to yourself…”
“Enough!” Sondra cried, “I am tired of being lectured by someone who doesn’t contribute anything to their fellows. You have done nothing but get into fights and cause trouble. I gave up my hopes and dreams in order to give it all to a higher purpose. I bowed to Ganden because I can never repay the kindness that others have shown me! I laid aside all my personal goals and ambitions to kneel down in helpful service to others! How dare you mock my choice and even go so far as to label it ignorant or selfish!”
Sondra missed how her words had drawn Trestan’s attention. He listened to her emotional outpour as she claimed the sacrifices she had made. His hand stroked his mustache as he read the deeper meaning between her words.
Cat glared at both of them. “I’d love to let you both go into a private room to discuss your differences, but we’re all stuck in the same boat. We have larger concerns at stake than catching thieves or justifying our lives to strangers. Those relics are weapons of unknown power. I don’t know how we can get them back, but there can’t be many civilized areas on this wild continent where one can purchase a boat ride to Orlaun. We need to focus on the larger issue: those stones.”
Lindon was glad to have someone interrupt the squabble. The minstrel was already sitting between the two women; he shifted so as to get directly between their faces, blocking their eye contact. He queried, “Of unknown power? What is really known about these artifacts?”
Trestan and Cat shrugged. After they shared a look it was Cat that responded. “From what little history we have pertaining to them, it sounds like two were originally given to caretakers by worshippers of Yestreal. I don’t know how the third ended up at a Korrelothar’s guild. The stones date so far back that it was likely they could have been made during the Godswars, but we don’t really know anything sure about their origin. What we can verify firsthand, is they have numerous powers. The most subtle of such is they can promote the welfare of farms and cattle. Crops and livestock growing near the relics tend to be healthier, even more resistant to disease than normal.”
Cat paused, “But they can be used in warfare as well. They have the power to shatter stone. An army assaulting a castle with one of them could knock down the stone walls easily. I’ve seen the power of it gut the inside of a keep. The relics also have the power to summon guardians to protect the bearer. They can create a squad of undead soldiers, or summon in earth elementals. We don’t know how much other influence they command.”
Lindon had his mandolin in his hands. He strummed a few notes absently as he listened. “What do these relics look like? You said stone, but how big?”
“Not large at all. A stone could be hefted easily in one hand. They are an odd shade of green, oval, and polished smoothly. They have white runes across their surface…”
The half-elf was interrupted by Montanya, “Kind of like large, green eggs…with white chicken-scratch type marks?”
Cat nodded, “Aye, you probably saw them on display with the other artifacts. They were in that chamber with all the other arcane oddities.”
“She likely didn’t see them there.” The young disciple of Ganden looked past the minstrel at the chiaso again. “She was hiding until they found her and threw her in the brig.”
Montanya suddenly found a few inquisitive eyes glancing her way. Trestan put forth a statement for her to acknowledge or deny. “You saw the relics, but not in the display room.”
The youth shifted uncomfortably, realizing now what the strange eggs were she had seen laying in the hold. “I…well…” She relived the memory again of what she saw, making sure she hadn’t dreamed it. “When I was being lifted out of the hold of the ship, I had a few moments of clarity.”
Trestan and Cat were suddenly on the edge of their seats as she spoke. “I saw an opened bag at the bottom of the hold, with two objects glinting at me from the floor. They looked…like two large, green eggs, wit
h white scratch marks on them.”
“A bag just like the cloth one you grabbed from them on the deck?” Lindon asked. “I thought Revwar went down and took the bag back from you.”
Montanya had her arms out, palms up helplessly, “I don’t know. I can’t even recall the blow that sent me into the hold. I remember laying down there in pain. There were a few bags and crates. I reached for one…not really too aware of what I was doing. That wizard took the bag in my hands, but I really don’t remember well.”
“But you saw the stones that we described still in the hold long after they escaped…when you were pulled out of there?” Cat’s emerald eyes were no less intense than Trestan’s.
The youth was at a loss for words. She just nodded. Trestan looked over the glowing orb at the front of the descending lifeboat. He searched the mist as if he could still see the Doranil Star. Katressa caught his eye. Their faces traded a silent conversation. They had despaired that the relics were all in the possession of the other band. Yet, by Montanya’s observation, two of the stones were still on board the ghost ship that had sailed off into the unknown.
Lindon actually chuckled over the situation. “Well, they must have grabbed the wrong bag. I wonder what they nabbed instead?”
* * * * *
The slender fingers drew an outline in the dirt, pausing only briefly to give careful consideration to the magical runes. Yellow eyes gave critical appraisal of the handiwork, before guiding the fingers into the next complex pattern. Revwar murmured arcane meditations as his mind sought to exactly replicate the circle of teleportation that would whisk them back to Orlaun. Every line and figure had to be drawn exact. A small mistake would simply prevent them from teleporting…a large error would mean death. The teleportation circles were one of the best means for traversing many miles to an exact target point instantly, but they had to be created flawlessly. Revwar meticulously worked to recreate another one.
His companions mingled about nearby, ever watchful that a party of wizards from the ship might be searching for them. Their levitation boat sat among some dense trees, affording them some seclusion. It had been a frightening descent through a tangle of branches, but between their magical abilities they overcame the treacherous landing. The orb at the bow no longer gave off any illumination. Savannah had used the dark miracles of her goddess to destroy the holy receptacle. She wanted to make sure the light did not give them away in the dark, as well as keep any clerics of Ganden from tracking them by looking for its holy aura. The only meager light came from an enchanted necklace Revwar wore.
Kemora kept her hearing focused on the surrounding woods, though it seemed as if the halfling was just lounging in the grounded vessel. Indeed, the domid was relaxing, though occasionally the sounds of people wandering in the woods perked her ears. No one seemed to come close to finding the band, though there were definitely lost castaways out there trying to make their way to some point of civilization.
Savannah tried listening to the night sounds as well, yet she was the most distracting noise in the clearing. The sounds of her plate armor as she restlessly paced was the loudest distraction her acquaintances had to suffer.
Jentan reappeared from the dark trees surrounding their camp. Savannah was about to admonish his disappearance, yet stopped short when she caught sight of the flower offered to her in his hand. The man always seemed to have women on his mind, and would not give up his pursuit of the only female human in their group.
“Even in Orlaun they recognize and covet this lovely bit of nature’s art.” He smiled at Savannah, offering her the flower. “The fanteria rose, which only grows in the deep forests of this continent. A rare and exquisite gift, best given to a rare and exceptional lady.”
Savannah displayed no emotion, though she held a hand out as he gently handed her the flower. Once placed in her hand, Jentan stayed close to whisper in her ear. From the boat, Kemora glanced their direction. The domid wondered if Jentan was going to be foolhardy enough to attempt his magical charms on the abbess that championed Death, and if her retaliation would be fatal.
“Look down on me not with scorn because I am a victim of my own emotions. Although I may consider myself the master at controlling others, I find my own thoughts enslaved by visions of you. Can you forgive me for such strong feelings? I would be unfaithful to myself if I did not express my fondness for you. Accept this rare token, and recognize it for the compliment that it offers.”
Savannah searched her wits enough to make sure the mentalist wasn’t attempting any kind of mental charm. She felt there were no attempts at any kind of magical intrusion into her mind. If she’d felt any kind of spell being worked on her feelings, she would not have hesitated in tearing the life from the man instantly.
The abbess, staring at him through her cold, blue eyes even as she held the flower, responded. “This flower is the best representation of your love? I see your love as weak and empty. It blooms when you wish it then wilts once your goal has been fulfilled.”
Jentan watched as she lifted the flower to his eye level. The abbess trickled the power of death into the rose. The mentalist’s smile faded as he watched the flower lose color and wilt. The stem and petals became dry and brittle, falling away to ashes that drifted on a breeze.
“I say your love is meaningless.” There was no anger in Savannah’s eyes, only the impassionate look of a woman who worshipped death over life. “Your feelings are nothing more than spent ashes…carried into the dark by wind.”
Jentan had little to say in the face of such a rejection. He could only turn away angrily as he heard chuckles coming from both Revwar and Kemora.
Kemora Quickfeet reclined back in the boat again, feeling like she could easily doze off despite the possibility of danger in the woods. The domid had trouble trying to settle in comfortably. She started to rearrange a bag by the side of her head. Confusion settled in when she realized it was the cloth bag supposedly containing the relics, yet the pair of objects within felt…odd. She sat up with a start, taking a quick inventory of everything still stored inside the boat. Her race had exceptional ability to see in the dark, so the contents of the craft were plain to her vision.
There was no question the bag she had been resting against was the one supposed to contain the stone relics, and yet the rogue could tell the objects within were not made of stone. Kemora had seen the relics inside their protective case on board the Doranil Star, and was reasonably confident how they should look and feel.
With growing dread, the domid sat upright and began to paw through the bag. There were definitely two round objects inside, but they didn’t feel right. She tilted the bag towards Revwar, making more use of the small light from his necklace, and peered inside. Kemora’s halfling eyes got as big and round as they could without swallowing the rest of her face.
The halfling felt her throat constrict to the point where she couldn’t swallow. She nervously glanced about at her unaware cohorts. After all the efforts they had gone through, and all the planning that had gone awry, only to think that everything had fallen into place…and now Kemora had to break the bad news to the rest of them. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat.
“Ahh…umm. How do I say this?”
Her voice was nearly inaudible, but Jentan heard her and welcomed any subject that diverted the others from his failed attempt to flirt with Savannah. “What is it?”
“Revwar?” Kemora prompted in a small voice.
The elf wizard looked annoyed at being distracted from his difficult task. “I’m rather busy right now. I hope it’s important?”
The halfling rogue held up the cloth bag. “Is this the bag that had the relics in it? You don’t happen to have it by you, do you?”
Revwar shifted with an irritated grunt as he held his necklace towards the halfling. The light slid across the side of the bag as he replied. “I left it in the boat by you. That is it, the bag you are holding there. I can see the green relics through the small hole in this side.”
Kemora could also see the color green through the small hole, but her glance inside the bag was enough to tell what the green objects really were. “Uhh, well. Those aren’t the relics.”
The sound of everyone’s breathing seemed to stop. Savannah’s armored legs halted their nervous pacing, further dropping the volume of noise within the camp. Kemora reached into the bag to show the others the objects she had been referring. The rest of her cohorts nearly stumbled over in shock as Kemora withdrew two green limes. She held them up and upended the bag so that they could see for themselves that nothing remained hidden inside.
There was a moment of absolute, shocked silence as their folly was realized.
Savannah’s fearful cry banished the silence. “Nay! Goddess forgive me. Spare me more punishment.”
It was rare for a follower of the Goddess of Death to show fear at anything, since death itself could not scare them. It unnerved her companions to see Savannah drop prostrate and start begging for mercy. They began to wonder just how brutal Savannah’s nightmares had been over the boy who had escaped her claim from DeLaris.
“Spare me more nightmares,” she cried into the night, “Allow me to redeem myself. Give me a chance to correct my failure.”
Revwar’s reaction, though subtle, nevertheless accentuated the storm of anger that had been released inside him. The elf wizard could not believe that after all their efforts another opportunity had been denied to them. He was about to believe that even Kelor, the God of Luck, was casting dice against them. Without a word, the wizard took one slender hand and angrily brushed through the carefully constructed teleport circle. The arcane creation was reduced to a spoiled pattern that bore no more magic than a ruined sand castle hit by the tide.
The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith Page 35
