The Companions of Tartiël

by Jeff Wilcox

  It might sound ignorant on our part, but we had our own problems to deal with. Wild’s propensity for acquiring other peoples’ rings finally got him into trouble when he stole Sayel’s ring, the one that had let her generate an amber sword in weak imitation of the blademasters’ soulblades. Her ring, as it turned out, had a will of its own, and it began twisting Wild according to its designs. This we discovered while Kaiyr and Caineye were having a quiet discussion about what to do with the deceased; Wild, under the ring’s influence, saw fit to push a passenger (remember that man in black robes? Yeah. Him.) overboard. After assuring us (via some ridiculous Bluff checks) that the man had been threatening Wild’s life, we backed off until the halfling started offing other passengers. Then it became a race against the crafty fellow, who literally came within inches of burning the airship to cinders with barrels of oil and a torch. We all thanked Chapter 8 in the Player’s Handbook for the rules on sundering objects after I used them to great effect and divested Wild of his tools.

  So, while we were tying Wild up in the vain hopes that he might win the battle of wills against the ring, Thelia was pulling her shenanigans on board the ship. This was one of the (thankfully few) moments that I questioned Dingo’s roleplaying and representation of realistic personalities. Because of the way some of the characters arbitrarily decided to give misinformation and withhold vital knowledge from the party, it felt less like we were interacting with people and more like we were fighting against a computer game whose NPCs were programmed to take particular actions no matter how illogical, no matter how unnecessary, no matter what the interacting PCs said or did.

  However, the fact that we stuck with the game (indeed, we went on to play further campaigns with Dingo at the helm), says much about how well the game otherwise ran, and perhaps how players need to be forgiving. Everyone has bad roleplaying days. I know I do.

  In-game, things got settled a bit once we cut off Wild’s hand, the only way we could remove the ring from his body, after promising the thrashing Wild that we would get his hand regenerated once we reached civilization. So it was that we turned the ship back toward Ik’durel at the behest of the beleaguered passengers.

  We decided that our characters were in dire need of some R&R, and since Sayel had given us nary a clue as to the whereabouts of or how to combat her “master,” there was no better moment than when the Flaring Nebula put into port in Ik’durel.

  XXVIII.

  Caineye let out an exhausted sigh as he flopped unceremoniously onto a divan in the main room of the suite the group had rented out for the next week. After the events on that fateful airship ride and a thorough grilling by the local authorities when they wanted to know why the unscheduled airship had arrived with a handful of battered passengers and a cemetery full of dismembered bodies, he was ready to collapse into an unconscious heap.

  Kaiyr, silent as he had so often been after Astra’s death and the sudden “birth” of Solaria, glided over to the double doors leading onto the balcony, stepped out into the evening air, and closed the doors behind him. Caineye craned his neck backward over the divan and watched, upside-down, as the heartbroken blademaster settled down on the balcony floor.

  Wild, also without a word, picked one of the four available bedrooms more or less at random and disappeared inside.

  Watching him go, Caineye’s expression turned glum when Wild’s stump caught the druid’s eye, reminding the human of what had had to be done and what was yet necessary. Although they had promised him while he was still under the influence of the ring, Wild fully remembered the duo’s assurance that they would restore his hand in Ik’durel.

  Vinto padded over and sat down next to Caineye, who stroked the wolf’s silver fur while the last member of the group, beautiful Solaria, entered and closed the door behind her. She turned around to face the quiet room, looking so much like a lost puppy, Caineye thought, trembling in Kaiyr’s old robes, which were far too big for her. The sleeves fell past her hands, which she shyly held near her mouth. One pale leg showed enticingly where the blademaster’s robes overlapped.

  Caineye shook that thought from his head, though he frowned when he noticed the nymph’s gaze lingering on the shadow outside the curtains over the balcony door. “Are you all right, Solaria?” he asked. “You’re welcome to use any of the rooms here. There are even baths in each room, so we won’t have to take turns.”

  Rubbing one bare foot against the plush rug, Solaria raised the floppy sleeves even higher on her face, so that only her eyes showed. “I… am I really allowed to stay?”

  Finding an increasingly-rare smile come to his face, Caineye nodded and gestured to the rest of the room with the hand that was petting Vinto. “Master Kaiyr booked these rooms for four, not three.” Vinto grunted impatiently, and Caineye obediently dug his fingers back into the wolf’s fur. “Sorry, old friend,” he said to his animal companion, “but you were extra. I don’t think this place is used to having druids bring wolves into their fancy suites.”

  Solaria exhaled and strode past Caineye to stand next to the divan, where she continued to stare at Kaiyr’s form outside. “But… why? Why would he let me stay, when he seems to hate me so?”

  Caineye tossed his legs over the side of the couch and sat up. “Solaria… Lady Solaria, I honestly don’t believe my… my friend hates you. I know that your brief time with us has been difficult and too much to learn all at once, but you remind him—remind all of us—too much of a friend who gave her life for us. It is still a fresh wound, for us all,” he told her, his voice trailing off as he deflated, reliving again the moment that Sayel’s minions burned Astra upon the cross. After a minute of silence, he sighed. “I cannot imagine how difficult it must be, though, suddenly thrust into this world to discover someone so cold toward you.” He glanced down at Vinto, frowning. “I don’t mean to imply that Master Kaiyr is cold, mind you,” he amended. “You still haven’t found a trove of hidden memories, I take it?”

  She shook her pale blue hair. “No,” she replied, turning back toward Caineye and settling onto one of the comfortable armchairs across from the divan. “I’ve been trying to think of everything, to try and see if I can find that kind of knowledge. But something tells me I’m not going to find any, Caineye.” She looked up at his mismatched eyes, and the druid’s heart melted, stunned at her beauty and innocence as he was every time he made eye contact.

  Then the moment was over, and her gaze traveled slowly to settle on Kaiyr again, to Caineye’s chagrin. “I really do feel as though I am comprised of two people, like you suggested the other day. But, unlike your stories of Astra and Luna, I do not feel conflicted with myself. I… feel at peace, in a way.” She swallowed, and the motion of her neck nearly made Caineye swoon with desire he severely wished he could either quash or fulfill. “But it disturbs me that both of my halves seem somehow attracted to… to him.”

  A wave of disappointment washed over the druid. Oblivious to Caineye’s reaction, Solaria sent a gentle expression in Kaiyr’s direction. “It is frightening to feel a connection to someone so joyless and uncaring. He scares me, Caineye.” She turned her kind features to him, and Caineye forgot his former discontent in the face of her radiance.

  Burying the feelings he knew would lead nowhere, the druid focused on scratching Vinto’s ears so vigorously that the wolf ducked out of the way and nipped at Caineye’s hand. He remembered that he was speaking about someone with whom he had grown close, and almost through gritted teeth, he said quietly, “I think that if you give him some patience, you will find he is not uncaring, Lady Solaria. Joyless… we are all grieving the deaths of more than just Astra. I witnessed the deaths of an entire pack of Terth’Kaftineya, and Master Kaiyr… well, that is not a story for me to tell, I don’t think. It is something best heard from his lips, when the time is right.”

  Solaria merely nodded wordlessly and sighed, staring at the floor for many long minutes, leaving Caineye to do the same. At length, she stood and stretched, nearly knocking C
aineye unconscious as forbidden thoughts invaded his mind yet again. “I’m sleepy. Good night, Caineye,” she said, turning and tiptoeing into the nearest empty bedroom. Then she paused in the doorway. “And thank you, for your insights into your friend. And for your patience. I… must be quite a burden.”

  Caineye raised his hand to wave away the comment. “Not at all,” he said, but her door was already closed. Sighing, he looked ruefully down at Vinto, who replied with a helpless look. “Well, that wasn’t symbolic at all, was it?” he asked dryly. “But I guess it’s about time we turned in. Let’s hit the hay, old friend.”

  XXIX.

  Dingo leaned back in his chair, which threatened to topple over and drop him onto his rear if he wasn’t careful. “The next day dawns bright and early, and all of you wake up feeling rested and… well, probably not exactly refreshed, but the next best thing you can afford.”

  We all chuckled at his words. Matt looked at me and Xavier. “Well, are we gonna get my hand glued back on today?”

  Both of us nodded, and I replied, “That’s right. We’ll go do that first thing after breakfast. I’ll ask the desk clerk where we might find temples of… oh, I guess Arvanos Sinterian.” It seemed the most logical place for Kaiyr to seek out, especially considering the second item on my agenda, which I had already discussed with the other guys out-of-game since the subject was taboo in-game.

  Dingo nodded and launched into a description of what we were doing. “Okay, well, he shows you a map of the city, which is absolutely enormous; the entirety of Ik’durel is about fifteen miles in diameter. There are three temples of Arvanos in the city, and the largest one is actually the nearest, about forty-five minutes away by coach, or closer to two hours on foot.”

  I looked at the other guys, and we shared a nod. “We’ll ride,” I said, knocking off a few silver from my inventory even though Dingo had already told us the transportation was free. Who ever said nobody liked tips?

  “You arrive at the temple after nearly an hour’s ride. It’s of typical elven architecture, which is to say, it’s gorgeous. Made of sparkling white stone, its main entrance arch is flanked by graceful spires.”

  “We’ll head inside,” I said as the spokesperson for the group at large.

  “Okay, well, the inside of the temple is as beautiful as the outside. Today is not a day of worship, and the main hall is tranquil despite a small number of acolytes cleaning the place. One of them looks up as you enter and motions to someone else, dressed in priests’ robes, that they have visitors.

  “The cleric, a male elf, strides over to you and bows. Welcome, visitors, he says in Elven. Welcome to this temple dedicated to He Who Came Before. I am Altaïr. How may I aid you?”

  He looked at me, since this was largely my expedition. I gave a humble gesture from my seat. “I bow, too, in the manner of blademasters. Greetings, Father Altaïr. I am Blademaster Kaiyr, and these are my companions, Lady Solaria, Masters Wild and Caineye, and Vinto, the wolf.”

  “Hello,” Matt said for Wild, raising one hand with the sleeve pulled up to represent his character’s lost hand. “I bow, too.”

  “So do I,” Xavier said. “Well met, Father Altaïr.”

  Dingo, roleplaying Altaïr, raised an eyebrow for the elven cleric, impressed. “Ah, and your friends are well-versed in the elven tongue, Blademaster Kaiyr. You keep impressive company.”

  “I do, I reply humbly,” I said. “As to our visit, I apologize for our sudden appearance. However, as you can see, Master Wild recently lost his hand, and we seek divine healing in order to restore it.” Dingo hesitated after I spoke, as though Altaïr were waiting for something else. Quickly, I added, “We do have a sizeable donation to offer.”

  The DM raised his hand and shook his head. “A donation is not necessary; I was merely concerned about the materials necessary to sacrifice to Arvanos Sinterian for such healing. We have recently exhausted many of our supplies treating an epidemic that has since been eliminated, but if you bring your own sacrifice, then the process will be that much simpler.” He then picked up his d20 and rolled it without telling us what he was rolling for, which usually meant it was a character’s Spot or Listen check. Raising one eyebrow at his result, Dingo looked over at Matt. “But then Altaïr’s face sours, and he shakes his head at you, Wild. However, that one we will not treat. He bears the trappings of one of the House of Aile. He points to the rings you have on your remaining hand.”

  Matt glanced at his sheet. “Well, considering I’m only wearing the constable’s ring and the one I swiped off the elder of Andorra, I assume it’s the second one. I raise my hand. You mean this? Oh, I was just curious about how pretty it was. It’s not actually mine; it belongs to some old geezer a thousand miles away.”

  Dingo cut the air with one hand and pointed ahead, as though he were directing us toward the door. “Begone, you who defile this temple, Altaïr says angrily.”

  “Oh, shit,” I cursed, glancing down at my character sheet. “Um, I’m going to try to convince him that Wild really isn’t part of this alehouse.”

  “House of Aile,” Dingo corrected. “It’s a last name, spelled a-i-l-e.”

  I nodded. “Father Altaïr, I beg of you but a moment more of your time. Master Wild is not part of this House of Aile, with which my friends and I are not familiar. He… I give Wild a really perturbed look. …has a tendency to ‘acquire’ others’ belongings. It is troubling, but it is in his nature as a young halfling.”

  “Altaïr gives you a troubled look. Um, roll a Diplomacy check.”

  I rolled my d20, and although I only had a few ranks in the Diplomacy skill, I had a few miscellaneous bonuses; five ranks in the Sense Motive skill grants a +2 bonus to Diplomacy checks (because a character good at reading other people can generally respond better to them), and the robes (“dress,” Matt and Xavier would say) Kaiyr crafted on our first airship ride were slightly magical and granted my blademaster a +2 on Diplomacy. “Um, how’s a twenty-one?” I asked after having rolled a 15.

  Dingo mulled over my result, which apparently beat the DC he had set, nodding his head left and right. “All right. Altaïr calms down and looks at you, Kaiyr. Far be it from me to question the company a blademaster keeps, he says with a sigh.”

  I nodded curtly, as was Kaiyr’s fashion. “Not all of us are born of the blood of the First Father. However, Master Wild has proven his worth at my side. I promise he will cause no trouble to you, and I will ferry him from these hallowed grounds as quickly as possible.”

  Dingo sighed. “All right, Altaïr agrees reluctantly, Brother Kolatev will perform the ritual in one of our private chapels. Walk with me, all of you. He leads you through the main sanctuary and then turns down a side corridor about halfway down the hall. Nearing the end of the hall, he opens a door and leads you inside. Wait here, he says, I will find Brother Kolatev for you.”

  I looked at Xavier and Matt, who merely shrugged. “All right. We’ll wait.”

  “Well, in about ten minutes, the door opens again, and Altaïr returns with another elven cleric who introduces himself as Kolatev. He’s ready to cast the spell.”

  “All right, I cough up the nine hundred and ten gold for the spell,” I said. We had gotten quite the impressive treasure haul from Sayel to make up for the lack of treasure gained since the events in Andorra, and we had deducted these funds from the hoard before divvying it out to the rest of the group.

  Dingo threw up his hands in a gesture of closure. “He casts the spell, and Wild’s hand reattaches itself to his arm, good as new.”

  “I wiggle my fingers,” Matt said contentedly, mimicking the action in his chair.

  “Now,” Dingo said, “Please escort your companion from our church, and I bid you not bring him here again.”

  *

  Altaïr nodded to Kaiyr as Caineye led the way outside with Vinto and Solaria and pushing Wild before him; the halfling continued to stare at his hand as though it were some newfound gem. “I was always wondering what it
would be like to regenerate a body part,” he said as he descended the steps before the temple.

  Kaiyr, however, did not follow. Altaïr had turned away to return to whatever he had been doing prior to the blademaster’s arrival with his friends. But that elven sixth sense told the cleric that there was still some kind of unfinished business, so he paused and slowly looked over his shoulder to see the blademaster standing alone in the hall. “I am sorry, Blademaster Kaiyr. Was there something else?”

  Nodding, the dark-haired elf strode forward to join the cleric. “Two items, actually, Father Altaïr. I apologize for troubling you so, particularly regarding my small companion.”

  Altaïr glanced down thoughtfully, then raised a hand and set it gently on the blademaster’s shoulder. “It is not you nor your choice with whom or which I take exception, you must understand. The House of Aile… is widely known in some circles for its great corruption, and many of its dealings have resulted directly in the deaths of many clergy of the nobler gods, Arvanos Sinterian included. Whether or not yon halfling speaks truth about the origins of his ring, I cannot let that symbol be seen inside this church; in fact, I urge you to rid yourselves of such a dangerous object as soon as possible.” He let his hand fall back to his side and gave Kaiyr a warm smile. “Now, child of Arvanos, what can I do for you?”

  Reaching inside his right sleeve, Kaiyr produced a small bundle of white cloth tied securely with several pieces of twine. “Before I unveil this ring, I must caution you to not touch it directly. It is a thing of great evil, as well as the reason Master Wild lost his hand.” Slowly, carefully so as not to come into contact with Sayel’s ring, Kaiyr unfolded the cloth.

  Altaïr gasped and took a step backward, raising one hand to his mouth. “By the gods! Do you even know what you have there?”