The Companions of Tartiël

by Jeff Wilcox

  Astra scowled at him, then turned her mean look on Kaiyr as he gently set a plate of food in front of her. The two of them locked gazes for a moment. “And I should trust you because you said that? You’ll need a better reason than that.”

  Kaiyr knew the question wasn’t really aimed at him, but he fished around for an answer anyway. Finding none, he just shrugged. “I made dinner,” he said simply.

  *

  The game ground to a halt as all four of us shook with laughter at the sudden, silly statement. It didn’t help that what I’d said was true.

  “‘I made dinner!’” Dingo cackled, ecstatic. “I’m writing that one down as a ‘D&D quote!’ Oh, you’re killing me.”

  “Nice one, Jeff,” Matt said, giving me a thumbs-up. Xavier congratulated me on the game-stopping statement, too, and we finally got back to the game.

  *

  Astra stared at Kaiyr in shock, as though his robes had just mysteriously disappeared from his body. He returned her stare with a perfect deadpan. Finally, the woman looked at her plate, a nervous giggle escaping her pretty lips. “Well, I guess I can’t argue with that.”

  “Indeed,” Kaiyr said, returning to setting places. The last plate he set before Vinto before taking his seat. “Lady Astra, I want you to understand that you have my most sincere promise of aid and protection, should you desire it. But in order to aid you, I need to know what challenges await us. I will not allow myself to be led as a bull by the nose. If you cannot offer us more information, more power to act, then I am afraid even I must revoke my hand.”

  Caineye nodded. “Master Kaiyr speaks for me, as well, Lady Astra. We need to know what we’re up against.”

  Astra glared at her plate as though it had somehow betrayed her. But her anger deflated, and she blew a sigh. “All right. What do you want to know?”

  Wild spread his hands. “How about we start with who Sayel is and what he did to you?”

  She pursed her lips, ready to start another tirade, but then, clenching her fists, she forced her anger away. “Fine.” She continued to stare at the table as she spoke. “I don’t know who Sayel really is. I’ve never seen him. But my brother, with his dying breath, told me who had killed him. I don’t know why Sayel killed him. I don’t know what he got out of my brother’s death. All I know about Sayel is the description I gave to you: green-tinted armor, long hair, and a sword of translucent gold that appears in his hand at will.”

  Kaiyr bowed his head, and then locked gazes with Astra. “For what little it may be worth, Lady Astra, you have my condolences for the loss of your brother.” She scowled at him, but the expression was short-lived, or she could find no hidden motives behind the sincerity of his stare.

  Astra decided to impart some knowledge of her own accord, then, and Kaiyr took it as a sign of the beginning of some trust between them. “As to where we’re going, I’ve been doing some snooping around. I picked up on some rumors that someone fitting Sayel’s description was seen in the north, somewhere in the direction of Is’den.”

  “That is quite a journey,” Kaiyr said. “And by ‘description,’ I sincerely hope it is one with a much more accurate picture of Sayel than I make.”

  The nymph’s scowl returned. “Of course it is, Blademaster. I have reliable sources.” Flipping her black hair petulantly, she snatched her fork from the table, speared a morsel of potato on it, and snapped it into her mouth in a nonverbal statement that the conversation was over.

  Not one to let wounded pride go without a bandage, Kaiyr responded in a gentle voice, “My apologies, Lady Astra, for my last comment. It was out of turn. In any case, I thank you for trusting us with your knowledge, despite the painful memories such discussion caused.” He set fork to plate to continue eating but paused. “I shall prepare a bed for you tonight, and you may wish to bathe in the spring out back. We have determined that it has powerful healing properties. Let the water soothe and heal you, and rest easy knowing that I will watch over your slumber.”

  As Kaiyr went back to eating, Astra looked at the other two. “That sounds dirty,” she muttered, drawing a chuckle from them both and even a quiet snort of amusement from Kaiyr.

  The group followed through with their promises, and in short order, everyone settled in for a long and restful night.

  VII.

  “Oh, Dingo,” I said one day at dinner. “I just realized something rather important.”

  The two of us were eating dinner in Kriner. Xavier couldn’t join us due to an evening class. Not that he was missing out on much, in the way of edibles.

  “And that would be?”

  “Well, I realized, after thinking about the fight with Cobain, that as things stand, the blademaster doesn’t have any manner of dealing with DR. I mean, he can overcome DR slash magic at level five, but that’s pretty much it,” I said, munching on something I’d grabbed from one of the food lines.

  “That could be a problem,” our DM replied. “I’m going to guess you want to work out a solution?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, even the monk gets to overcome DR slash lawful, and can even strike as adamantine

  [18] weapons at level fifteen or so. Remember last session, when Kaiyr said, ‘walls have little meaning to a true blademaster?’ I was kind of inspired by my own words.”

  Dingo nodded. “Yeah, it does make for a really cool image.” He grinned. “I’m picturing it now, a blademaster slicing through a wall, and it explodes out. Man, that’s beautiful.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, “and I noticed another thing. Other than the class description saying that Concentration is an important skill, it’s only used to manifest in areas of no magic. So I figured I’d make it more important.” I hunkered down and began using my hands, as if they helped Dingo’s understanding of my words. “I figure this. As a free action,

  [19] the blademaster makes a Concentration check. The base DC is fifteen, okay? For every point by which he beats that DC, he can overcome one point of DR of a specific type that he chooses—which also means that he has to know or figure out by trial and error what kind of DR an enemy has.

  “That only works for DR against silver and cold iron, though. I figure I’ll let the blademaster choose an alignment to add to his attacks like the monk, probably at level ten or so. For DR adamantine or slashing-piercing-bludgeoning—well, it’s already slashing, I guess—the DC starts at twenty but works the same, otherwise.”

  Dingo mulled it over in silence.

  “I figure, this way, a low-level blademaster can have a fighting chance of overcoming DR once in a while, and while a high-level one can do it well, it’s not entirely reliable, since he has to roll a new check every round. And, for more than one kind of DR, say, piercing-adamantine, he has to know about it and check for each type.”

  Dingo looked intrigued, and I suppose he sensed that I wasn’t quite finished yet, so he remained silent. “And I figure, for the hardness of objects, it’d work the same way. If you like it, we can try it out, and if it seems broken, we can fiddle with it and stuff.”

  Finally, he nodded. “Yeah, since you are play-testing the blademaster, we’ll put it in.”

  “Plus,” I added, “The blademaster doesn’t get to overcome materials until level six, so Kaiyr’s got four more levels to go before that even comes into play. And if the DCs seem too low, I don’t mind bumping the base numbers up by five. Actually, that was how I originally calculated it.”

  “Nah, let’s leave it at fifteen and, what was it, twenty?” he asked, and I nodded. “Yeah, we’ll do that. Anyway, you done?”

  “With your mother?” I shot at him with a grin. “Yeah.”

  “Ooh, well-played, sir,” he congratulated me, rising. I joined him as we took our plates to the dish room and left Kriner, heading out into the windy and icy, early February air. We wouldn’t play D&D for another couple days, but I needed some more time to modify and balance my homebrew class, anyway. I probably think about this kind of thing way too much.

  VIII.r />
  Aside from Kaiyr, who was quietly meditating in solitude outside by the spring and its pool of warm water, Wild was the first one to awaken the next morning. He availed himself of the breakfast and still-steaming tea the blademaster had thoughtfully left out for everyone, and then headed out into the main hall. He passed Kaiyr on the way, spotting Astra standing nearby. The nymph seemed as if she were highly amused by Kaiyr’s ability to remain so still and quiet for so long.

  One of the wererat acolytes came scurrying up to Wild as he paused in his musings. “Um, sir?”

  Wild turned to regard the man, who stood slightly hunched over, as if cowed. “What is it?”

  “Th-there’s someone here to see you, I think. He says he’s the new constable of Viel.” He blinked nervously and glanced back at the front door, open just a crack.

  A slow smile spread across Wild’s features, while Astra noticed the two of them and came over. Slipping the constable’s ring from his finger and tucking it away, Wild glanced up at Astra. “You stay here, ma’am. I’ll take care of things. I am the high priest here, after all,” he said with a snicker.

  Striding to the front door, Wild pulled open the double doors to find six men, all mounted on deinonychus steeds. Wild inwardly rolled his eyes. “Welcome to my abbey, gentlemen. What can I do for you this day?”

  One of them, obviously the leader, glared down at the halfling. “Are you really the new priest at this abbey?” he said in a dangerous tone.

  “Of course,” Wild said, extending his hand and showing him the ring he’d taken from Cobain, wrapped securely around his finger. “I am Father Wild. My subordinates took responsibility for Cobain’s death and sent word to Ist’viel. Our masters relocated me without delay; this operation is too important to neglect,” he lied, putting a wicked gleam in his eye.

  Much to the halfling’s pleasure, the man seemed to buy it. “Well… I’m the new ‘constable’ in Viel,” he said. “Call me Cooper. I was just relocated, same as you. They said a new priest was on his way, but I didn’t think you’d be here this early.”

  Wild nodded. “It is indeed fortuitous; I was actually on my way through Ist’viel when I received word from my handler. A setback at this stage would have severely hampered our efforts.” He kept to innuendo, hoping that the new “constable” might let slip some useful tidbit of information.

  Instead, he just nodded. “Yes. In any case, I am here to warn you that the ones responsible for Cobain’s death are still at large. An elven blademaster and a human druid traveling with a wolf.”

  “Hm,” Wild snorted contemptuously, “if they be wise, they’ll get as far away from here as possible.”

  “Not that there’s anywhere for them to run. Not for long, at any rate,” Cooper agreed darkly. “Anyway, it is a pleasure meeting you, Father Wild,” he chuckled. “I’m certain I’ll see you again in the future. Keep a sharp eye. Ten-hut, men! Move out! Hya!” He and his men spurred their mounts into motion, and the small dinosaurs squawked and lurched back down the path.

  *

  “Oh, man,” I said, breathing a relieved sigh. “That was intense. I’m glad you rolled so high on that Bluff check.”

  Matt beamed as Dingo snorted. “It didn’t help that I rolled a two on the new constable’s Sense Motive. Even with situational modifiers from preexisting suspicion, there was no way he was going to beat that twenty-five.”

  Cracking his knuckles, Matt sat back with a royal expression. “It’s just ‘cause I’m so good,” he said. We all groaned and looked back at Dingo.

  *

  Closing the front doors, Wild turned back into the abbey with a grin on his face. Unconsciously, he slipped the old constable’s ring back onto one of his fingers as he skipped back down the hall, the target of several amazed stares from the wererats.

  He found Kaiyr and Caineye in their room. “Hey guys,” he said. “New constable wants me to tell you there’s an elven blademaster and human druid on the loose. Apparently, these assholes killed Cobain. I mean, the guy was just doing his job, you know?”

  Caineye grinned back at Wild. “That’s rather serious. I’ll let you know if I see them.”

  “You do that.”

  “Did you learn anything of import?” Kaiyr asked, getting down to business.

  Wild thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t get any names, but apparently these guys are all part of the same organization. It’s hierarchical, which was a lucky guess on my part, and their agents only know about other agents on a need-to-know basis. Oh, and they’re apparently a really big organization. It sounds like they’re planning something huge. No idea what they’re trying to do, though.” He wrinkled his nose.

  Kaiyr frowned. “That is serious, indeed.” He glanced around. “Lady Astra? Lady Astra? Where are you?”

  A moment later, Astra appeared in the room, stepping out of the stone wall.

  “Did you hear everything?”

  She shrugged and gave them a condescending look. “Yeah. Nothing new, really.”

  All three of the others raised eyebrows, and Vinto let out a disgusted snarl. “Oh?” Kaiyr replied. “Perhaps you would enlighten us, then. What do you know of this organization and its workings?”

  Astra’s face contorted into one of her now-usual scowls. Kaiyr was almost of a mind to remind her that her face might freeze like that one day. “I don’t see a need to tell you about it,” she said and disappeared back into the wall.

  “Friendly one, she is,” Wild remarked mildly.

  “I don’t trust her,” Caineye growled.

  Kaiyr glanced at the walls. “She is likely listening, even now. Lady Astra, perhaps you should come discuss this with us.” He received no answer, and, sighing, Kaiyr turned back to his comrades. “Well, we can leave her alone for now. She seems to be a troubled woman. In any case, I am of a mind to uncover everything we can about this place, beginning with the two doors in the main hall.”

  “Ooh! Ooh! Pick me to go with you!” Wild said, jumping up and down as Kaiyr pulled the silver key from his sleeve.

  Kaiyr raised an eyebrow. “It could be dangerous. I will take the lead. Keep behind me several paces, at the least.”

  Wild rolled his eyes, but he and Caineye followed the blademaster, Vinto padding complacently along behind them. “Wait,” Wild said as they reached the door. “The one across the hall’s trapped, which I found out much to my un-amusement. Let me check this door and make sure it won’t kill us when we open it.”

  Kaiyr nodded his assent. “Excellent idea, Master Wild. Please, take your time.”

  The halfling rogue knelt before the door and began examining its structure, the hinges, the lock, and the handle. After a couple minutes of this, he straightened, shaking his head. “Couldn’t find a thing. Maybe whatever’s here isn’t as valuable. Go ahead.”

  Kaiyr stepped forward, inserted the key in the lock, and turned it. He waited while everyone else cringed, half-expecting the door to explode. When nothing happened, a collective sigh escaped the group, and Kaiyr pulled the door open.

  “Phaw, that’s nasty,” Wild commented as the air from beyond the door wafted out, carrying with it the distinct stench of rotting carrion.

  Stoic, Kaiyr only frowned. “Stay here. I will investigate.” Pulling a torch from a nearby sconce, he lit it with flint and steel stowed in one of his sleeves and cautiously crept down the stairs. Upon reaching the bottom of the curving staircase, he found the source of the stench. By their robes, the rotting corpses must have once been the clergy working and residing at the little abbey.

  The blademaster took all this in with a neutral eye, but finally, the reek of death overwhelmed even his indomitable fortitude, and he lurched over to vomit on the floor.

  “Master Kaiyr, are you all right?” he heard both Caineye and Wild call from up the stairs.

  “No,” the blademaster replied, dry heaving once before straightening and wiping his mouth off with a kerchief he summarily discarded. “I—I mean, yes. I wil
l be fine. It is… terrible. You should stay up there. There is little to see here but dead bodies.”

  “Nothing to borrow?” Wild asked, rubbing his hands together. Kaiyr merely threw a harsh glare back up the stairs before ascending them.

  “The bodies of the original clergy are here,” he said, glancing at the wererats, all of whom cringed away from his gaze. He looked back at the other two. “We have more bodies to bury.”

  Caineye didn’t bat an eye as he replied, “I’ll give you a hand.”

  The wererats all stepped forward. “We—we will, too,” said one of them. “After all, we helped Cobain… well, you know.”

  Kaiyr nodded his thanks, and the group got to work. They all changed into work clothes and hauled out the bodies, six in all, from the otherwise empty cellar. Then Kaiyr and Caineye, along with two of the wererats, commenced in digging graves and burying the bodies.

  With the extra help, the distasteful job was done only a few hours after the sun had passed its zenith, leaving everyone at the abbey sweaty, smelly, and generally in a somber mood. Wild, who had not been able to aid with the digging, was the exception, and he had generously offered to make sandwiches for lunch. Astra appeared just long enough to swipe a pair of sandwiches for herself before she vanished again.

  “Don’t linger and make dinner conversation, or anything!” Wild called testily over his shoulder when he went to deliver lunch to the hard workers.

  After the bodies had been covered and the earth tamped down, Kaiyr wiped the sweat from his brow, nodding his thanks to the others. “I am going to start cleaning the cellar,” he announced in a weary voice.

  *

  “Okay,” I said, folding my hands with a clap. “I get a bucket. I head over to the spring, fill it, and carry it down to the basement.”