The gnome began his introduction. His meek voice spoke eloquently and kindly. “A good evening to meet such nice people. I am known by many names, as is the nature of my folk. I will give you the name I use around human settlements. Call me Mel Bellringer! I am from the Bellringer family: makers of fine bells, chimes, gongs, and other acoustical instruments. However, I am not into the family business. I had magic flowing in my blood, and sought to develop it. I present myself before you as a sorcerer and traveler. What brings you out on the road at so late an hour?”
Trestan answered, “We are following a band of adventurers who caused mischief in Troutbrook. They kidnapped a lady of the nobility.”
Mel looked shocked, “You don’t say! Describe them to me.”
Trestan started with Bortun’s description, figuring that a minotaur passing by on the road would certainly stand out. Then he described Loung Chao, as the gnome nodded his head. Mel spoke, “Aye, I saw that band! They were walking along, not enough horses to share between them. They weren’t friendly either.”
“Did they have a woman with them? She is fair and beautiful, wearing a skirt and displaying some expensive jewelry on her?” Trestan asked.
Mel tried to recall what he had seen earlier that day. “There were two women with them. One was as you described. She looked sad and tired, definitely nay condition to be traveling like that. She looked at me as if she had something to say, but the minotaur was pushing her along. Interesting minotaur, he had one horn broken.” Trestan smiled, remembering when Sir Wilhelm had chopped off the end of one of its horns.
Cat leaned closer to Mel, “About what time of the day did you see them, good sir?”
The gnome tried to recall, “Let’s see. I’ve been buried in my reading today. It may have been a few hours after the sun’s peak in the sky. It wasn’t quite close to evening yet, but the sun was descending. I’ve been here all day, and thus I had to adjust my sitting a lot as the reading light changed. Nothing beats sunlight for illuminating an old script or a new book.”
While Cat was working out the time difference in her head, Petrow prompted the gnome with a question. “You just sat around here all day? Reading? What about the dangers in the woods?”
Mel dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “Oh, I’m not too worried about these woods. I’m what your people call a forest gnome. I have kin in there. They weren’t too receptive to the idea of me visiting them or I’d be staying with them, but let us not dwell on that. The only other creatures that wander by this area are goblins, and occasional wild beasts, but they are generally as afraid of us as we are of them.”
Cat started to think out loud, “So if they really pushed it they might have made it to Barkan’s Crossing this evening. I doubt they would have been able to march Lady Shauntay, unless they put her on a horse. Yet that would be risking an escape. Too much ‘if’ and ‘maybe’; we can’t just assume. I’m guessing they rested for the night, but they are still a good few hours ahead of us.” She raised her head to look at the gnome. “Did you see a company of guards ride by today? There were men dispatched out of Troutbrook to catch that band.”
“Indeed, Lady Katressa,” The gnome picked up another manuscript, “I was reading this when the first band came by, and had nearly completed it by the time the guards rode up. I had to spend time deciphering and figuring out some of the strange handwriting, but maybe another hour or two had gone by. They rode past here, about ten strong. They were dressed in bright colors, very lovely if you ask me. Light blue colors they wore, arranged in waves, with the symbol of a fish under the water. Does that not sound like the standard that a town named Troutbrook would use?”
The three friends looked at each other. Cat finally voiced her thoughts. “The guards should have overtaken the others by now. When daylight comes, will we see them going back to town? If not, what shall we assume? In the morning, we may find a scene of battle on the road ahead.”
Mel Bellringer looked them over as he smoked his pipe. He noted the two young men watching parts of the conversation through heavy eyelids. “There is nothing more you can do this night. I assume you are honestly trying to help that poor lady. Enjoy my campfire tonight. In the morning, you will be refreshed and ready to continue on with a clear mind and a renewed body. I don’t want to pressure you into staying, though I certainly have enjoyed having someone to share conversation with out here in the countryside. You seem tired and should get your rest. May Daerkfyre watch over us all!”
Petrow and Trestan started to set out their blankets and loosen their footwear. Cat watched their host with renewed interest and a bit of confusion. She had caught something odd that the two men had missed. Mel could tell that her eyes were on him, and he met her gaze, “Something troubles you?”
Cat asked, “Isn’t Daerkfyre the Valorous a dwarven deity? A gnome paying homage to a dwarven god?”
Mel blushed, “Oh…heh…well. I’m asked that often enough. Dwarves tend to threaten me when they find out. Imagine! Offended that I honor them by worshipping one of their gods! It is a long story in itself, but I helped a dwarven nation some time back in retrieving a relic dear to them. During that time I was on bad terms with my own god. In order to help those dwarves, I had to face a vision of one of their deities. It was part of a test. In that case it was Daerkfyre, and I had to be judged worthy by him to continue. I put forth my plea before him, and even to my astonishment he judged me worthy! Since then, I have turned to him. It was Daerkfyre that showed trust and faith in me, when my own god had abandoned me. Now I may be told by others that I can’t be worshipping a dwarven god, but I’ll let him decide that, and not mortals.”
Cat smiled at him, “You certainly are an interesting person, Mel Bellringer…and a fine host!”
From off to the side, Trestan and Petrow seemed distracted by their own conversation. “Three on the right, two on the left. Hells this will hurt.”
“I’m jealous of your shoes! My sandals left me with three on the right, and four on the left!”
Cat and Mel turned to see the young men sitting on their blankets, each rubbing his own feet. Cat asked, “What are you two talking about?”
Trestan stopped rubbing and quieted, but Petrow answered directly, “Counting the blisters on our feet! It’s been a long walk.”
Cat recoiled at seeing Petrow flash the blood-tinged sole of one foot in her direction. She stated, “Oh gods! When we get to a town I have to buy you both a pair of good shoes. That reminds me of my early days of traveling, but worse.”
Mel Bellringer actually looked over both sets of feet with an odd fascination. Dabbling in sometimes disgusting reagents for spells and potions, he was not disturbed in the least examining the blisters and even commented on how well or bad they looked. “Aye, this one is still weeping some fluid. You should get that taken care of by a healer.”
Katressa turned away and prepared her own blanket for the night. “Ok, I know I’ve seen some worse injuries, but this is just making me sick. I feel sorry rushing both of you along like I did today. I certainly have pushed you hard and we’ve not really made much progress in catching them. I don’t see how you will travel too well tomorrow.”
Mel retrieved a jar out of one of the many pouches on his torso straps. The straps and pouches were in a confusing array, some overlapping others over the gnome’s chest. One had to wonder how Mel kept track of where he stored various items. “Here, spread a dab of this on those sores, and by morning they should be a lot better. They are my own herbal remedy: created by alchemical magic, and a bit of ma’s home recipe. Use it and then sleep well.”
The two men rubbed some onto the blisters after soaking their feet with water. The half-elf felt a little guilty when she looked over at the sores, especially when one of them winced in pain as they applied the ointment. Katressa admired how well they had carried on without complaint. She remembered days of her youth when her feet felt as bad as theirs looked. So much time she had spent under the sun and stars running
through forests or over plains. Her feet got used to long distances at an early age.
She was worried that they should post a guard, but both men were likely very tired. She had to trust Mel that this was a relatively safe area. The half-elf started to succumb to her weariness. She set all her weapons within easy reach around her blanket. This night she stayed on top of one blanket, using a dark gray cloak from her pack to cover her and warm away the chills of the night. The adventuress lay down and relaxed as Petrow and Trestan thanked the gnome through their yawns. Eventually, sleep caught up with her.
* * * * *
When Trestan first opened his sleepy eyes, the third and smallest moon, Liijay, hovered at the pinnacle of the starlit sky. Figuring dawn would be a couple hours away, Trestan turned to find a more comfortable position. Any useful light from the campfire had died out, but the stars and moons illuminated Cat’s form nearby. She was sitting up and watching him as he turned over. He half-buried his face in his traveling sack. It wasn’t the softest thing to lie on, but it served its purpose.
Wondering about Cat’s wakefulness, he whispered quietly, “Bad dream? Or light sleeper?”
She leaned close to him, speaking softly. “Light sleeper, always have been. I heard some odd noise in the woods a short time ago. The night sounds have returned, so I’m not as worried anymore. When you walk the adventurer’s road as long as I have, you use less sleep and more watchfulness.”
Though Trestan was still not fully awake, he whispered again, “I wish you would tell me something of your adventures. I would love to hear a tale.”
Although Trestan looked like he was ready to fall back to sleep, Cat started a tale from her past. The young man listened in, even though his eyes slowly dropped closed and then snapped back open a few times. She kept her voice low so that she wouldn’t wake anyone else.
“It was maybe twenty years ago…and especially for a half-elf, it was a young age for me. Up until then my scouting and fighting skills had been limited to games in the woods with the other elves of my community. My human mother mostly stayed in the elf city where my father lived. It wasn’t a grand city of stone and manors like human cities. It was built up in the boughs as well as around the bases of huge, ancient trees. Wooden walkways stretched across the treetops, offering a grand view of all of the forest. Gardens cultivated over several elf generations were a paradise to tread.
“Then one day, the city was attacked by demons. Somehow, beyond explanation, a portal to another dimension opened up and the evil spawn poured through. I know not whether they intended anything specific, but during the battle several of them raided a sacred vault of our people. While several of the defenders rallied around our most sacred treasures, others tried to protect and save their families. The demons were everywhere, and my surprised kinsmen tried to form a defense as best as they could. My poor mother, already ill and weakened by age, died valiantly against the creatures. She bought time for me to flee, but I couldn’t simply run into the forest and abandon my people. I turned around and snuck back towards the sound of the fighting. I was small and afraid back then. I saw demons and elves alike slaughtered as I made my way quietly through the bushes.
“When I found the fiercest portion of the battle, I was only in time to see the leader of the demons flee back through the portal with several followers. I later found out the creature was a coldast; a mix of earth element and undead spirit. The creature and its brethren bore away several items of the highest value. I only learned more of the theft after the battle, and as a child I wasn’t able to find out much. Though I had almost reached my twentieth year, to elves I was a child.
“But I must return to the events of that day to speak of what happened next. I saw an argument between my father and several elders near the portal. There were still demons about, but the elves had won the ground around the portal after the leading demons had fled back through it. I couldn’t hear much, but they were clearly arguing over the portal itself. My father was concerned about the holy items that had been stolen, while various elders were more concerned with shutting the portal and ending the threat of the demons. Eventually, several stepped forth to brave the portal and retrieve the stolen goods. Reatheneus Bilil, my father, proclaimed loudly, ‘Yestreal’s gift was a relic, it should not be abandoned so easily!’ He looked to me and touched a hand to his ear, whereupon he wore a gold unicorn earring I had given him as a gift. He and those brave few went into the portal. We waited for hours. More demons attacked from the forest around us as well as through the portal itself. Finally, the elders conceded they could wait nay longer, and I watched numbly as they called forth a miracle and closed the passage between dimensions.
“I screamed, I cried, I denied everything that had happened. Swords and weapons all over the ground, yet the portal was closed and I couldn’t charge through to help my father. I never saw him again. I had lost my mother, friends, kinsmen, and my father was trapped in another world. That day I grew out of my childhood for good. I became a scout and an expert shot with a crossbow and bow. It wasn’t very long before I started down the adventurer’s path.”
Cat finished her sad tale and watched Trestan’s breathing, unsure how awake the young man remained. It seemed as though he might still be listening, though his eyes were closed. “And that is why I support your decision to go after this group. I was unable to follow and I felt helpless. You have a choice, and I will be there to help you for the loss you suffered that night. Be careful and don’t throw your life away if you can help it. I loved my father, but I felt he had thrown his life away needlessly in the end. He disappeared to some evil, uncertain fate, and left me alone to face the future by myself. Learn from this story, to strike when you know you can win and accomplish your goals and live. Don’t leave any little girls crying as they face life alone.”
Tears trailed down Cat’s cheek from recalling such painful memories. She wiped them away as her nose sniffled. The half-elf wondered why she had told Trestan all that, but she felt it was the right message to give him. She looked at the young man and wondered what fate would lie in store for him, speculating if he could make enough of a difference to heal the wounds in his heart. Cat used one finger to brush a strand of hair out of Trestan’s face, as she spoke again, “Goodnight Trestan.”
Barely audible and half-muffled by the sack his face rest on, Trestan responded through closed eyes, “Goodnight Cat.” His breathing resumed a steady rhythm as he succumbed to sleep.
* * * * *
Petrow faced the morning with a yawn and a stretch. Cat was hovering by the rekindled fire, warming some food. There was no stretching or exercises today as far as Petrow could tell; she was already dressed in her armor. Mel Bellringer’s manuscripts were packed away neatly in wood or leather tubes, which kept them protected. The gnome was straightening out some of his packs while striking up a quiet conversation with Cat. The half-elf just nodded her head, as it was the gnome doing all of the talking. Mel, like most gnomes, could talk a person’s ear off at times. Off to one side, Trestan stirred on his blanket. Petrow looked over his own blanket and pack, but decided to heed the call of nature before putting his things away. He put on his work harness and knife, but left the axe by his blanket. Slipping sandals on, he was amazed at how good the gnome’s salve worked. The blisters on his feet were almost totally healed by the gnome’s remedy. He knew he still had a long walk ahead of him, but his feet would be more up to the task than he could have hoped for the previous evening. The human walked towards the edge of the trees, stretching and basking in the morning light.
He wondered what they would find in Barkan’s Crossing. He was told it was larger than Troutbrook. It was also the largest town in the southern reaches of Kashmer’s Protectorate, and the last real patch of civilization before the fort, Dunker Keep, that marked the southern border. Although a small village had formed around Dunker Keep, it was rather unimportant and bent more towards the needs of miners, a few farm families, and the fort’s garrison. Unlike
that small village, Barkan’s Crossing was supposed to be a bustling place, where tradesmen gathered to make use of the raw materials flowing into the town. Petrow doubted they would easily find a group of people in a town as busy and sprawling as that. The young man looked forward to visiting a larger city, though he would have preferred it under different circumstances.
Petrow turned his mind to the task at hand. He was just inside the woods and out of sight of the camp. A lot of underbrush grew around the remains of a fallen tree. Branches and dead wood crisscrossed the area. Green moss and small plants added color to the dark corpse of the tree. It was a rather poorly lit area. Trees and leaves blocked most of the sun’s light this early in the day. In the distance, he could hear morning birds singing in the branches. Finding a spot in which to do his business, he started to lower his leggings.
A frantic, inhuman scream, followed by chattering noises erupted from right under him. Something he had thought was a tree root under his sandal moved, yanking him off balance. Stepping back in surprise, he stared as a smaller, humanoid creature got to its feet. Black and green skin identified the goblin, as well as the yellow eyes staring back at Petrow in surprise. The creature’s dark skin colors had camouflaged it well among the dead branches. Both the goblin and Petrow let out a scream. It occurred to Petrow he was without axe, face to face with a creature known to have an evil disposition. The goblin dressed sparingly in animal hides and carried a long dagger at its side. Though this one stood only half his height, they were renowned for attacking in large numbers and committing acts of cruelty to any prisoners. Another goblin rose out of the brush. The second creature moved several branches as it got to its feet, appearing to Petrow as if a larger number were jumping up from that spot. The first goblin started to scramble away from him, but Petrow, screaming and terrified, ran back towards the camp.
The Earthrin Stones 1 of 3: Inheritance of a Sword and a Path Page 12
