Cat, Petrow and Trestan exchanged nervous looks between themselves, well aware that Korrelothar’s first concern would be the fact they were walking, instead of flying. Salgor showed no nervousness. The bearded warrior wasn’t about to let a wizard treat his friends harshly. Mel was, as always, seeing only the bright side of things. The gnome appeared cheery at arriving to their destination, and impressed that they had a welcoming group ready to greet them.
They steadily traveled the street past all the villagers. Only a few of the locals knew about the holy relic’s theft. The sight of the heroic band returning from another surprise absence sparked interest with several people. Their approach didn’t match the grand of a spectacle as when they had flown into town aboard Dovewing, yet the occasion distracted many on the street. Merchants left their stores and carts in the hands of family or apprentices. A crowd of people formed behind the companions as they walked.
In front of the church, right next to the well supporting the false relic, the companions stopped and faced Korrelothar. The wizard from Orlaun and the fatherly cleric both stared at the young group, stern and angry. Trestan, Cat and Petrow prepared to soften their reception right from the start. Each of them held one of the three relics they had discovered. Priest Gerlach and his acolytes gaped at the presence of three such miraculous stones. Korrelothar glanced over their hands, and there was some distraction in his otherwise hard visage. The elf spent an extra moment studying the stone in Petrow’s hand, still partially wrapped in that odd leathery material.
The elf wizard remained silent. Priest Gerlach cleared his throat and addressed the companions. “You all were spotted leaving the village with Korrelothar’s magical creation. Where have you all been?”
Cat answered for the rest of them, “We apologize for leaving so suddenly, but we had a chance to win back that which was stolen from the village. We dared not try waking the Lord’s keep at an early hour when time proved valuable. The holy relic is returned to its rightful owners, and the relic from Orlaun has been found, as well as a third stone.”
Trestan, holding the village relic, removed the false relic from the well and replaced it with the rightful stone. This caused a lot of murmurs from the other villagers. Trestan stepped back with his friends, holding the false stone. The young man glanced around and saw Hebden’s face in the crowd. His father held a smile.
Cat and Petrow offered their relics to Korrelothar. The elf once again glanced down at them, but didn’t move to take the relics. His stern gaze took in all of them, “Where is Dovewing?”
An uncomfortable silence stretched among the companions before Trestan spoke, “We had an accident.”
Korrelothar looked to Trestan. The smith’s son drew the eyes of every villager and acolyte in the vicinity. The young man swallowed any pride he had as he continued. “We’re sorry, and we know it was wrong to take her. The needs of our village prompted our journey, but we never wanted any harm to come to such a fantastic vessel. She is, sadly and regrettably, smashed beyond repair.”
The elf scowled at each member in turn, but one of the companions would not be intimidated. Salgor did not believe in flowery apologies, nor would he make excuses when he figured the village’s fate was more important than an untrustworthy magical contraption. The dwarf’s deep voice commanded attention. “For those that weren’t aware, let me enlighten you. The holy relic displayed here contains destructive power. We witnessed its danger as it summoned forth undead minions, shattered the solid stone of a keep, and created other earth-borne monsters to fight for those who stole it. In its absence, Troutbrook’s crops withered, and herd animals became diseased. This group did steal that flying vessel, but we did so to take away the relics from those who would abuse them. We come back victorious in our quest, though the gnomish contraption paid the price. That’s all I have to say.”
The other villagers whispered excitedly at the dwarf’s revelations. Korrelothar hid his feelings well, but the dwarf’s mention of the relic’s powers seemed to get his interest. The elf simply held out his hands to accept the other two relics. Petrow and Cat handed their stones over, and the elf examined each in turn with renewed interest.
Korrelothar finally spoke again, “I wasn’t expecting that I might see any of you back, but your small victory is some good news. I am very distraught over the loss of a very important and useful possession. I suppose I will hear your story out, before I give in to any temptations such as…turning you all into big, fat fish and releasing you beside the fishermen on the river.”
The wizard’s threat, whether sincere or not, succeeded in making the companions more nervous. Salgor only glared back, as if daring the wizard to try it. Murmurs of discontent among the villagers nearby. Korrelothar held up a hand.
“Like I said, just a temptation. Wizards have done far worse to people who steal their finest magical items. Yet you all seem to have done so for a noble and worthy purpose.” The elf spoke chidingly, but this last sentence had seemed an honest compliment. He continued, “In truth, I would rather we take the rest of this conversation inside the church, so that we may discuss everything in its entirety.”
“Indeed,” Priest Gerlach agreed. “We shall take this into the sanctuary, to a private meeting, and have all our questions answered there.”
Salgor stood his ground, even though the others made their way to the church steps. As the priest and wizard looked back at him questionably, he sneered as he voiced a question at them, “And then are we to be…punished?”
His expression showed his contempt for that idea. Korrelothar answered, “Not punished perhaps, but we might say ‘repayment’ for the loss of my most prized possession.”
* * * * *
The tale told in the private chambers of that church was written down by the church scribe. A church scribe recorded the tale told in the private chambers, despite her own expression gaping and giving pause during portions. Korrelothar remained upset by the loss of Dovewing, though he never spoke out angrily at the companions. The companions could feel his mood in his actions. Both priest and wizard showed plenty of interest in the news of the stones’ apparent powers. Korrelothar admitted that the members of his wizard guild never suspected that the relic held so much power. Before the sky turned dark, Gerlach and Korrelothar placed protective enchantments around the well relic, guarding it heavily against further theft. It had briefly been debated whether to bring it inside the church, but Yestreal was a nature god. Important relics of such a deity belonged out in the open air. They determined that the other two relics would go to Korrelothar for further study. One had belonged to his guild anyways, and the writing adorning the wrapping of the unknown stone puzzled the clergy. Though it seemed Elvish, the letters made no sense. Korrelothar thus volunteered to take the new stone and wrapping back to his guild to research.
More respect conferred to the companions as they relayed more of their tale. Although Korrelothar gave them a gruff attitude, the elf’s eyes and motions revealed that his anger had softened. The acolytes who overheard the tale swore to secrecy…but by day’s end the adventure became the village gossip. Several renditions and rumors circulated, painting an even more heroic and epic picture of events than what really happened.
Soon enough the companions found out what Korrelothar had in mind when he had suggested “repayment”. During their few days of absence the wizard went ahead as planned in researching church documents and histories regarding the holy relic. However, the search for knowledge became greatly hampered by the attentions and gestures of Lord Verantir. The noble was not about to let such a prestigious visitor linger without attempting a good impression. The lord practically catered to the wealthy wizard, seeking an audience almost daily. Each encounter involved formalities and banquets that took hours. It did not help Korrelothar that Troutbrook was a small town with little else to distract the ruling lord. It did not comfort the companions to find out that the same lord, who had rewarded them for rescuing his daughter, offered their heads to
Korrelothar for stealing his property. The wizard had asked Lord Verantir not to do anything of the sorts, but when the companions heard this they appreciated running into the wizard first and not the local lord. Korrelothar’s troubles showed that he had a serious diplomatic problem with researching at the church while the noble was around. The elf had tried his best to make excuses and seclude himself from the noble, but it was a difficult diplomatic stance. At times the wizard told the church acolytes to keep anyone from entering, but Lord Verantir ruled the area and would not be dissuaded by the minor priests of the church.
Korrelothar intended to continue his examination and translations of the church histories in order to learn more about the powerful relics. The elf wizard believed the companions might help him study in privacy, and he made it clear that they owed him after losing Dovewing. After the day of their return to the village, they started worked to assist the wizard. At first this seemed a simple request, but Korrelothar had much more in mind.
The companions worked in shifts, and found out how far Korrelothar could stretch the term “repayment”. Their duties included fetching candles and keeping them burning, bringing food and drink to the wizard, washing his robes and the challenge of finding some way to divert the company of a local lord. As days went by, the chores added up. It became obvious that the elf wizard intentionally made them go out of their way for certain chores, yet the wizard had a way of taking advantage of the guilt they felt over losing the magical vessel.
“Katressa, this tea won’t do.” Korrelothar said to the woman one day, when taking a break from reading a long scroll.
The mage’s words halted her just as the half-elf was leaving the room. At the time she was the only companion assisting the elf mage, and she had just brought a lunch for him. Cat heard him take the smallest sip of the tea the acolytes prepared, and saw the resulting scowl on his face.
She put on her best smile, even though she knew the tea was probably perfectly fine. “Shall I get you another one?”
Korrelothar nodded, “That would be most sweet of you, thank you, but not this kind. That farmer Isodeiah grows the best herbs for tea; I would like some of his ingredients.”
Cat held out a hand to accept some coins from the wizard, grateful that he was only sending her on a small errand. The merchant of interest had a cart set up in a farmer’s market at the south end of the main street. After handing her the money, the wizard added in a special request, “Oh, and I’d prefer only leaves grown from the portion of his farm that is in the shadier area, near the water.”
Cat had almost made it to the door, and now she cringed. The woman spoke, “All his herbs are mixed together at his cart. I’m sure he won’t remember which ones were grown in which part of his fields.”
The wizard nodded his agreement, “Quite right, you have a point there. You’ll have to go with him and have him pick the ones I want directly from the garden. That way we’ll know we got the right ones. It’s a good thing they are in season.”
Bewildered, Cat turned to face the smiling wizard, “But…his farm is two miles downstream!”
Korrelothar set aside his lunch for a moment. The wizard fixed his gaze on Katressa. The half-elf instantly knew she had protested too much, and was about to suffer the consequences.
“Too much sun can damage anything, you know. Whether it is plants, paintings, or even our skin, the sun damages things. That’s why the best herbs are grown in slightly shaded areas. You know who taught me that? Grenario the carpenter!”
Cat listened quietly as Korrelothar went on, “Oh, you never met him. He died several years ago, and not a finer artisan has been found since. It was Grenario that carved the two doors on Dovewing. The griffon door was his favorite; he actually spent two years coming up with the final design. He’d made previous doors and thrown them out, saying they ‘weren’t perfect enough’ for his tastes. He slaved alone the whole time, insisting on doing all the work himself, trusting nothing to apprentices. After all, flying vessels like divine chariots are one of the rarest things in the world, and he wanted to have everything done to the peak of his abilities. He even became disturbed about the wear of color on things exposed to the sun for too long. He experimented until he came up with a stain that should protect the vessel through centuries of flying around in the sun. It was time-consuming to make, but he always insisted on the best. I hear it took two months for the solution to be boiled, stirred, cooled, mixed anew and redone over and over again in order to come up with the final mixture…”
“Korrelothar?” Cat interrupted, feeling guilty as always when the wizard droned on about the amount of work that had gone into making Dovewing. “Much as I’d like to hear more, I’ll go get that tea for you now.”
The elf wizard smiled, “Have a nice walk.”
Cat’s experience that day was typical of what all the companions went through at one time or another. Trestan ran into Salgor as the dwarf carried an ink vial to the wizard’s study. “He isn’t getting any more than this from me!” Salgor declared, “I’m not his page or some acolyte!”
Minutes later, Trestan spotted Salgor hefting a pack and leaving Troutbrook by the southern road. Days later, the dwarf walked back into town carrying a small package. Salgor saw the smith’s inquisitive eyes and warned, “Not a word!” At which Trestan wisely decided to go back to his own business.
After a few days Korrelothar favored Mel with the most errands. The little gnome was so talkative that he became a big distraction for the elf mage, although the wizard put his conversation expertise to good use. Most folks couldn’t deter Lord Verantir’s frequent visits, but Mel somehow cornered the local lord into a three-hour conversation once. At the conclusion, Lord Verantir turned around and went back to the mansion without bothering to see Korrelothar. From then on, the wizard appointed Mel to seek out and intercept the noble every time the lord sought out Korrelothar. The elf wizard enjoyed many days of peace and quiet study as Lord Verantir was subjected to discussions of gnome customs, things found in goblin stewpots, dances from Pluetlo’s Island, good fishing spots in other lands, centaur color patterns, the mating habits of forest creatures, and so many other subjects of which Mel was an expert.
The month of Florum gave way to the summer months. The wizard from Orlaun continued his studies, always keeping a watchful eye over the strange relics. The villagers, impressed and awed by the stories of their relic’s powers, spent more time around the well marveling at it. Farmers and herders alike made pilgrimages to see the relic and pray for their lands and crops. Protective wards kept anyone from actually removing the relic from its place. During the summer months the companions catered to the wizard, but went about their own lives as well.
Trestan enjoyed being home, in the company of his proud father. Hebden was amazed at the stories he heard and what Trestan shared about the struggle. With some awkwardness, Trestan relayed the part about accepting the calling of Abriana and healing Cat as she lay dying. Hebden wasn’t sure how to take the news, though it swelled his pride that his son harnessed a miracle to save his friend. When the father asked how his son would follow his calling, Trestan replied that he wasn’t sure. The young man knew he would have to study and train. While Trestan stayed and repaid Korrelothar’s debt, he worked that summer as a smith again.
The sword which had once hung over Sir Wilhelm’s fireplace now decorated the common room of Trestan Karok’s home. The armor hung on its own stand, after Hebden and Trestan repaired the damage it had taken. Trestan still wore a patched tunic and trousers when he worked at the forge, but when away from it he finally garbed in nice, fashionable clothing. Despite bringing back a hefty amount of gold from the pockets of Bortun and his group, the young man set most of it aside for his eventual schooling. There was much work to be done, and Trestan worked the forge alongside his father to help with the chores.
The long hours at the forge helped out his father and the villagers, but it also gave Hebden time to reflect on the changes. The older smit
h knew his son yearned to follow his new path, even as he stayed to finish what he could at the smithy. Others noticed odd happenings as well. Trestan worked longer hours into the night on some secret endeavor. Hebden knew the secret, but revealed nothing. To the amazement and rumors of the other companions, Korrelothar made several visits to the smithy. A few times one of the other companions would approach, only to see Trestan and Hebden hide whatever they were working on. Korrelothar, standing nearby, would give no clue as to the reason for his presence. The wizard and the two smiths would chat about the weather or the crops, but it was obvious that some surprise brewed in the forge.
All the companions sought work or distraction while helping the elf mage with his study. Petrow had coins and was more willing to spread the wealth. The young man began to experiment with different fashions, wearing varieties of bright clothes. Yet Petrow also went back to doing some hard work for the villagers. Once again he could be counted on to collect firewood, work on the ranches, assist farmers with crops, repair roofs and slaughter chickens as needed. During this last chore Petrow found himself distracted at times. He performed the job with the same woodcutter’s axe he had carried as a weapon…the same woodcutter’s axe that never actually drew blood during the adventure.
A new development took up a fair amount of his free time. A farmer’s daughter had caught a fancy with the handyman. The maiden Inedra, who had danced with Petrow during the night of revelry in Troutbrook, found herself the subject of his attentions. The young maiden returned his affections, and many days Petrow and Inedra went off by themselves for picnics and long walks.
On the outside, he remained positive and sure of himself. The young man always acted as if the world was something he always understood, and no worries would trouble him. None of the other companions witnessed Petrow’s struggles with the nightmares. Visions of a powerful minotaur and a cleric with ice blue eyes woke him in the depths of the night. Breathing hard and heavy, Petrow would lay awake for a long time after one of those dreams tormented him.
The Earthrin Stones 1 of 3: Inheritance of a Sword and a Path Page 58
