Tales of Fantasy, Fables, and Fiction

by Thomas H. Tribble

  "Yes," replied the Mage. "They should prove to be longer lasting in duration than Walls of Force which dissipate after only a few score minutes, also they will cover considerably more area. I do not think that we would like to be pressed for time during our onslaught and we cannot be certain of how large all the tunnel openings are."

  Bourne thought for a moment then said, "Very well. The stone you conjure will not be as inviolable as the force walls would be but, I suppose, trying to break through them will at least give the Clerics something to do."

  "True," replied Beneth. "And, as to how the walls can be readily put into place, well that is where the merchant helped us out with these." Beneth outstretched his hand to reveal two medium sized rings that each had a single blue stone imbedded on its forefront. "They are Rings or Spell Storing. I (or any Cleric, Mage, or even Ranger) can place a few spells into the rings so that anyone, even a non-Mage, can release the spells' power."

  Strom almost leapt forward to get a clearer look at the rings. "I used to have one of these long ago. They are very handy. They are also very expensive. Why would the merchant risk giving you even one of these for less than a small fortune?"

  At this, Tassif kind of shrugged and said, "The eyes of a demi-god are certainly worth risking a few rilks on our success. But, the full truth be told, those rings are a bit less potent than their fully functional kin. You see, they each have but a single use in them which lowers their production cost considerably."

  "Ah, so they can be charged with a set of spells only once, then they become, basically, costume jewelry. Hmm, still they will be very useful," said Durrock who had also just become very intrigued by the rings. "I have an idea for them already!"

  Beneth interjected, "If it involves invisibility and stealth, then we may be on the same page, so to speak."

  Durrock nodded and replied, "Aye, it does involve invisibility." Then, the Dwarf went on to explain his plans for having both Strom and himself sneak down the mountain tunnels and doing a bit of reconnoitering. He told them that he had been wondering exactly how to pull off the activity of spying while inside what might well be a crowded lair. But, with a set of fairly common spells, namely invisibility coupled with a Ranger's and Thief's ability to move silently, the reconnoiter might be possible to accomplish. Also, invisibility might allow the two to be hiding in a more strategic place when the fighting began.

  Beneth said, "That is very close to my own plan, in actuality. Invisibility spells could be placed into rings (along with a couple of other useful incantations) which would allow some of us to get into position to throw up the stone walls just before the rest of the group attacks. The only real modification my plan has to Durrock's is that I would have to go with him and Strom as I will be needed to read the spell scrolls. Also, since I will be on hand to cast Invisibility, we can put other spells into the rings if we like.

  "Fireball works best for me!" said Strom with a large smile on his face.

  The group went on to discuss both of the ideas and every other facet of the quest that they could think of. After a few hours, they agreed upon a refined version of the plan involving invisibility and had compiled a further list of supplies and tools that they would need. However, the group could not agree on the point about relocating to another town immediately. Some of them wanted to stay in Norec while Bourne insisted that they not.

  Finally, Bourne said, "I suppose this is the best time, then, to tell you of recent events in the hope that you will agree to leave Norec as soon as is possible. Last night, I was attacked by a nemesis of old; the huntress Moornam." The mention of her name caused them all to shake their heads or moan.

  "I thought we were being followed outside of Urum," said Strom. "Of course, I always think that. But, since the Lady Druces must have raised the bounty on you once again, that Orcen hag is on our trail once again. She is as persistent as she is horrid."

  Durrock then asked, "May I ask who his Huntress is that you are speaking of? Leena has told me something of your troubles with the Dark Lord, Bourne, but nothing about any Orcs."

  "She is Half-Orcen, actually, but still just as terrible despite her human blood," replied Bourne. "Simply put, she is a bounty hunter that has failed to capture me for almost two years now. Why she continues to chase me is, to the best of my knowledge, a matter of either honor for her or pure persistence. I now think that her little human lackey was the one that followed you yesterday, Strom. The Huntress was laying in wait for me when I left this building last night. The good news is that despite losing my axe in the fray, I believe I caused the rather timely death of the lackey."

  "Well then, bravo!" said Strom. "Hmm, do you think she is waiting for you again tonight?" he asked looking at the exits from the warehouse.

  Bourne shook his head and replied, "Doubtful. I imagine that she will be looking for reinforcements and, furthermore, I would be willing to wager a fair price that she is the reason that the Thieves' Guild is on the tear."

  Strom said with a smile, "Then she will be making herself very, very scarce for a while. I doubt she still in Norec, in fact."

  "My thoughts exactly, friend," replied Bourne.

  Beneth said, "Well, given this news, I must now agree with Bourne that we relocate our operations to another town as quickly and as discretely as possible. If Moornam finds out that the time limit on your bounty is about to expire, she will most likely become absolutely ruthless. The killing of her stooge will not help matters either."

  Leena interjected, "Very well, let us make plans to depart town in pairs on the morrow. I wish you had told us of this earlier but I'm sure you just didn't want to worry me," she said with a blasé look on her face.

  At this, Bourne just shrugged and looked a bit sheepish. He knew that Leena worried about him but now was not the time for polite silence. They were both "on the job" and that meant being in harm's path together, hopefully for the last time. He replied, "Yes, I apologize for my lack of timeliness on the subject. Oh, and I'll need another axe."

  The Huntress had decided to find a more direct route to unearthing an explanation about the Dark Lord's sudden change of heart concerning Bourne. Surely, in a monastery of this small size, several people would have heard what was going on or, at the very least, had a good idea about the truth of the matter. With little entertainment available to the monks, gossip was sure to be a most popular leisure time activity.

  Moornam buried Maeven under a shade tree in the wild. She thought that she remembered him once say that he would like that. Then, she set herself to finding a mark. She spent the next several days lying hidden in different places within sight of the monastery. She watched everyone who entered or left the building day and night through cool days, freezing nights, sun, rain, and fog. She even took note of all the sounds that emanated from the compound and all that went on there. Finally, after seven days, she noticed a pattern in the behavior of one of The Lady's secretaries. She had even crept close enough to the main road to make sure that, indeed, it was he that left the monastery all alone in the early afternoons every second day only to return by sundown.

  The next time that he rode out of the monastery, Moornam followed him. She kept a discrete distance on her own horse. She followed him as he rode to Norec and into her main gates. She knew that she dare not enter the city for she was, no doubt, being looked for. The Guild had never been kind to her and she had no interest in dealing with her recent defiance of them. "Let hell pay its own dues," she thought.

  The day lingered on and an hour before sunset the cleric disembarked from the city. Moornam had not waited for him outside the city gates but had, instead, planned a diversion for his return trip to the monastery. She thought that she had caught a scent of perfume coming from him that last time he returned from one of his day trips. If he had been visiting one of the city's many brothels, then that would make her job all that much easier.

  She waited for the Cleric to ride within a half league of the monastery past a grove of trees that the m
ain road passed through. It was a largely untraveled road for anyone without clerical business avoided the compound and would not pass within sight of it. Just as she got comfortably in place, she saw him riding towards her.

  The Cleric had, in fact, been visiting one of the more upscale brothels in Norec. Long ago he had rationalized his frequent trips to Madam Violet's 'house' as necessary for him to retain his composure and mental balance. No doubt Druces knew about his habit and did not care. He had set out from the brothel at a leisurely pace for he was now very relaxed and a bit weary. His duties for the Lady had been very random lately as she seemed to be spending more and more of her time in conference with their Lord and master. He was finding himself further out of the loop on important matters and that weighed on his mind. As he rode along he was trying to think of how he was ever going to replace her if....

  WHAP! He wasn't sure what had happened. Something had hit him and knocked him from his mount. Had he run into a tree branch suddenly? Everyone around these parts knew who he was and certainly no one would attack him. He looked around him and saw what might have been a large branch hanging from a rope swinging back and forth above him. He heard a noise and looked to his right just in time to see a large figure jump out from behind a tree a yard or so from him. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and then a dull thud struck at his consciousness leaving only darkness.

  When Fenlles awoke, he found his hands tied, his back to a tree, and his mouth gagged. A thick haze was still floating around in his head when a large hand slapped him and roused him further. "Wake up!" a harsh voice said. His head ached and his throat was dry. In fact, his whole body ached. He seemed to be hearing and seeing everything through a long tunnel. But soon his head started to clear.

  Fenlles's first notion was to cast a protection spell. However, he found that not only were his hands tied, but so were his fingers. He could do nothing. He looked around to find himself tied up amidst thick trees with a huge, ugly woman towering over him. "I assume that you remember who I am," she said flatly. "You will forgive my methods, but I wanted to have a little talk with you. Now, if I remove the cloth from your mouth and you start to chant or do anything that resembles spell casting, I will have to slit your throat. Be careful."

  He nodded and the gag was removed. "You are that bounty hunter, uh, Moor..."

  "Moornam. Yes and you are secretary to the Lady Druces. You will be so kind as to answer a few of my questions now."

  He shook his head and replied, "I think not. You will no doubt kill me anyway and I am nothing if not stalwart. I will not betray my master nor the Lady, both of whom I serve."

  "Kill you? Why would I kill you? I do not care who is told about our meeting. In fact, I would think that you should be the one to desire this conversation to be held in confidence, not I. You see, after you tell me all that I want to know, I have the feeling that Lady Druces would be less than pleased to hear about your indiscretion. She has a reputation for being somewhat unforgiving about these matters, I am told." Fenlles cringed at the thought of her not forgiving. He knew that few wronged her sensibilities twice. "At any rate, Cleric, killing you would only bring more attention to me."

  Fenlles thought for a moment and replied, "That may be true, however I will tell you nothing. You will soon find that torturing me will be a waste of your time." And, with that, the Huntress pulled out a small dart from her belt pouch and stabbed him in the neck with it.

  "Doubtless, however this is a very powerful and expensive truth serum. Torture is for amateurs," she said softly. "Only beings of the very strongest will power have any chance of escaping this potion's effects. I doubt you stand any chance at all. Now, tell me all you know about Bourne and why the Dark Lord has had a change of heart concerning his bounty."

  Within moments, Fenlles began talking. He continued talking non-stop for almost four hours. In that time, he answered all of Moornam's queries in exquisite detail telling her everything that he knew about the topic. He spoke on through the waning daylight and into the dark night. He jabbered almost incoherently about every important secret that his order had. And, finally, when he had run out of things to talk about, he even spoke about his intense fear and hatred for the Lady that he served and about his desire to kill her and take her place as head of the monastery.

  The Huntress was fascinated by the things that the order had done and what it was trying to hide, but she eventually grew weary of the Cleric's non-stop chatter and finally struck him on the back of the head with a sap. When Fenlles woke up sometime later, his throat was parched and raw, his bonds were gone, and his horse was tied up a few feet from him. He managed to find a torch in his saddle bag and make his way back to the main road, then back to the monastery. He used to have to sneak into the monastery when he was younger and would go out at night for secret rendezvous. Now, he decided to simply ride in and act as if nothing had happened. He would say nothing of the incident to anyone ever for he could remember everything that he had told Moornam; everything that he should not have said.

  Chapter 6 - A Night's Tale

  Bourne and the group that he led left Norec two days after their last meeting. Each person had either already owned a horse or was provided with one as well as tackle and provisions for the journey ahead. Beneth actually did have an adequate mental picture of the town they were going to first go to. However, the sheer mass of people and provisions made using teleportation too tedious and expensive, so the group's use of horses became a necessity. The town, Wencelington, had served as the mage's base of operations before he had become savvy enough to handle the mean streets of Norec. In some ways, Wencelington was actually superior to Norec for provisioning a quest. Food and clothing were much more reasonably priced there and the magic shops were friendlier, if far fewer in number. It would be a better place for the party to finish up last minute details and buy smaller items than Norec was. Also, it was less likely to be constantly crawling with angry Theives' Guild members.

  The group decided to splurge and rent an old, rustic manor for a week in order to fully make ready for the adventure ahead. Bourne and Strom still had a desire to get to know Durrock better before being thrown into battle alongside him. By all accounts, he was a perfect companion for them, but it seemed to them that he was a bit too trusting of Bourne's situation and asked too few questions. Before they would willingly entrust their lives to his actions, they agreed that it would be wise to pry into his personal life a bit.

  On their third night at the Manor Rothford, Bourne decided to have a small feast prepared for the group. He had fresh fruit, baked mutton, spiced ham, desserts, and copious amounts of both wine and ale brought into the dining rooms of the main building. He decided against having any servants or musicians serve them but he did have a group of Gnomish ladies spruce up the dining hall as best as they could in one afternoon. In Norec, this feast would have been ruinous for them, but in Wencelington, it was reasonably had.

  Bourne dressed in a new tunic gotten just for the occasion. Strom pulled out his nicest 'street work' cloths and even Beneth miraculously had his mage's robes cleaned in who knows how long. He also decided to only have one wand up his sleeve for the evening. Durrock came into the hall wearing his usual mail but it was brightly polished. Tassif had decided to be the evening's entertainment so he had his lute, lyre, and flute well prepared while he wore a traditional Bard's hose and short cape. When Leena made her entrance, all eyes were on her. She wore a flowing gown made from silk and fairy spin (a type of cloth made from fairy hair and often woven by Dryad). "The gown is a rented accoutrements, fair sirs. I could own nothing this exquisite!"

  Tassif had worked with Leena for a few years by now but he had never seen her in a gown before. She often wore nice cloths and non-combat related garb but never gowns nor jeweled finery. Still, she looked positively radiant that night. However, the real purpose behind the night's festivities had nothing to do with her. "Sadly," thought Bourne, "I must ignore my maiden somewhat and make sure Durrock
receives more than his fair share of ale to drink."

  That evening was one of the fairest Bourne had in his recent memory. Everyone enjoyed the food and Tassif was putting on a grand show of poetry and song. Durrock insisted on hearing the Ballad of Horrenda The Ogress which was a bit off putting as it dealt with an unimaginably uncharismatic lead character and treachery resolved by the traditional Dwarvish ethic of axe wielding. But, the only real snag in Taffif's performance came when Durrock then requested that he sing the ballad Lordly Dall Trumpler.

  Strom, now half drunk, stood up and wailed, "NO NO NO! Not the Trumpler song! By all the gods in all the heavens, not that! How far must a Wood Elf journey to avoid that drivel?" Tassif stopped playing for moment and all were silent. Then, Durrock broke out in a hearty laugh and all accompanied it, even Strom.

  "My good Elf Lord Strom," began Tassif, "I would not think of bending any soul's ear with the mere background chorus to Lordly Dall Trumpler which, in fact, is the song you rave about. I would rather entreat you all to the main ballad from the opera that it comes from. You see," he continued leaning closer to his captive audience, "Lordly Dall is an epic opera where the main character is always played by a female Dwarven singer. Since they typically have a five or six octave range, the songs are exquisite if impossible for even me to sing. What the human masses now drone on and on to in taverns is actually just the human choral background verse sung to the words of a bad translation."

  Strom cried out, "Aye, drone is the word for it."

  "But I have been working on popularizing the true spirit of the opera and have completed my first draft of the entire four hour opera condensed to a mere ten minute ballad that all can sing. Please lend me your hearts and your ears." And, with that, Tassif strummed his lyre and played a flowing melody that simple caressed the ear. His audience soon realized that he had also been singing along with it but that they simply had not noticed his voice over the lyre as the two sounds blended so well together. As he played and sang, Bourne made sure to refill everyone's goblets.