Death Or Fortune

by James Chesney

  "Yea I know her and that pompous husband of hers. So called war hero, if he is anything like his father I hope they both get whacked." Basil did not see the hand move but when it made contact with the side of his face he felt it. An explosion of pain rocked his head, the coppery taste of blood trickled into his mouth. "What did ya do that for?" he asked once he could see straight again.

  "He is nothing like his father and he is my friend. You may think I owe you something for teaching me about lock picking and how to avoid a trap or two but you are mistaken. Now, you will tell me about who wants Lady Kromwell dead or this will be the beginning of a very long night for you. Do not leave a single detail out or this one night could turn into days. I brought you here for one reason. You can scream your bloody head off down here and not a soul will hear you."

  "Bastard!" Basil let his head hang low, looking towards the ground trying to think of a way out. Yet an old motto of his came to mind while he was looking at how well his hands were tied. He realized that the half elf was serious about leaving him down there for days at a time. As his own father used to tell him, when in doubt save your own ass. "You get me out of town, I don't want anyone to see me. Get me out of town and I will tell you all that I know."

  "Very well Basil, tell me and I will have you out of the city before dawn."

  "It was a woman named Cynthia, she said she was working for that wizard friend of Kromwell's. The other one they made a lord, Hatrack or something like that."

  "The wizard Lord Hetaron?"

  "Yes him, she put out word that the two of them were leaving town together and would pay close to fifty thousand gold for the head Kromwell's wife when they returned. It has to be done while they are away to avoid anyone thinking something is wrong. A lot of guys thought it smelled funny and wouldn't touch it. He is a war hero after all. A lot of folks respect him, fear him as well. Last guy that took a shot at Kromwell got crushed like a bug and he did that with his bare hands. Look Chase, I know you don't owe me anything but you have to believe me."

  "What about the two guys I took down outside the Kromwell home the other night. They were looking to take her."

  "Mort and Abe? Those guys are from out of town. Just came in a couple months ago and they were paying dues with another guild. Thought it would be easy pickings here with all the upheaval and all. Hell Chase, some of my boys fought with that Kromwell. If you go to my second, tell him that the Kromwell thing was all a lie, that there is no money, he will get the word out to the other guilds, void the contract if you will. I am not saying she would be safe, who the hell is in this town." The half elf looked at the old human, he did not doubt anything he said. It was all as much as he feared. It was the woman who called herself Cynthia that wanted Lady Kromwell gone. Reaching behind his back Windfall pulled out a dagger.

  "If so much of a hair is harmed on her head I will hunt you down Basil. I know things, you know I do. Now who is this second of yours?"

  "A priest of Tempest named Sineo. He is the only one the boys trust to keep account of guild funds. So when they do a job they 'donate' to him at the temple. He makes sure that nothing can be traced back to the boys and I, he then gives me the money to pay the one who did the job." Windfall just nodded his head and cut the man lose.

  "I am sorry I had to hit you, I wanted to make sure you understood I am serious."

  "Just keep up with your end of the bargain Chase. I need to stop and pick up my wife on the way out of town." The half elf looked at the old human and raised a single eyebrow in question. "Aye, old nag tied me down five or six years ago. I would leave her behind but she keeps me warm at night." The half elf let out a slight laugh leading the old human out of the room. Never once did either one see the dark shape in the corner of the room. Hidden in the shadows of one of the many bookcases in the room. Neither one saw the unhappy face fall into small hands as the door closed behind them. The small shape did not understand what was going on as tears rolled down his face. Perhaps if his friend Darmot was there he could explain it but that would not make the pain in his heart go away. A sob racked his body, shaking without control as Pare tried to understand why his friends wanted to hurt each other. Perhaps if Darmot was there he could do something to help but at that moment there was nothing anyone could do. For there is no prayer or spell that can mend a Halflings broken heart.

  56. Tremor

  For as long as I can remember, I have always carried rope with me. I never understood why. There were times when it was the last thing I needed but yet I always had it with me. Perhaps it was something Windfall had told me. Perhaps it was someone else. After spending a week in a mountain range, I understood. A week of going up one side and down another of the unforgiving mountains, I did not question it at all. While some of the more difficult spots were made easy with the use of Lomarks magic, he could not fix it all. Even if he wanted us to believe he could and reminded us that we were doomed up there without him. More than once I was tempted to toss him off the side of whatever ledge we were on. Not that I would have ever done that but the thought did cross my mind a time or two. All the frustration we felt during that week was washed away by relief the first time we saw the White Spire.

  It was like a gleaming work of art perched at the top of a mountain peak. Sun light reflecting off the cool white stone of the tower, we could see the fort at the base of the tower. The tower it's self stood more than a hundred feet high, at the base it was surrounded by a fort where Ramanthus held his men and where he had created his foul undead creatures. Lomark spent close to an hour with a spy glass held up to his eye, in study of the spire. 'He shaped the whole thing out of the mountain top, very interesting.' I wondered at times if he admired the work too much or perhaps it was admiration of the one we were bound to face. We watched the comings and goings around the spire for close to two days. Had we been able to fly, we could have touched down next to the spire in an hour or so. From the fort there were three trails down the mountain. One lead to the west, the other two towards the east. We lost sight of the trail that lead to the south east but the other was close to where we would be once we managed to climb down from where we had made camp.

  The four of us took turns watching the tower and the trails. Waiting for a sign that it was time to approach the tower. When it would be the best time and most of all, where we could enter the fort without drawing attention to ourselves. Each time I took my turn to watch the tower I wondered if there was someone at the top of that tower, watching down on us. The other thing on my mind were the dragons that had stolen the Rod of the Arcane in the first place. There was no sign of them at all. It had occurred to me that they may have been hidden but where do you hide full grown dragons? The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. There were no dragons at the spire. Ramanthus couldn't keep them in check while keeping a small army of men with him. Yet I was sure they would be close by and we could not overlook any impact that may have had on our plans. There was still the question of how many men were inside the fort. The fort was a constant hive of activity. We were all sure that there were other bases where Ramanthus had additional men.

  Lomark said at the most there couldn't be more than a hundred men in and around the spire. While it was an impressive site on the mountain peak, it just wasn't' large enough to hold a large force. Food and drinking water had to be brought in to the human mercenaries. 'Poison, we could poison a shipment of food and just wait for them to die off in mass.' Lomark suggested. I don’t know if it was Zender’s horrified look or the thought of giving a wizard who was practiced in necromancy hundreds of bodies to use that made him change his mind. Later that night as my watch was ending the mage came and sat by my side. He asked me what I thought after a day and a half of observation. I told him that I had a dwarven friend back in Arcadia and it was him that I was thinking of when something occurred to me. Half that mountain could have been hallowed out and there could be two or three cities worth of men under the ground. That being said, they were not moving enough food
in and out to support that. I came back to my questions about the dragons and wondering where they could be. Then I came to my final thought. Even if Ramanthus had two or three other camps like this one. There was no way he had enough men to move on Xcavere. Any men he was planning on feeding to the legions of undead were just a distraction. Ramanthus planned on a one on one confrontation with Xcavere. A direct assault to dispose of him quickly.

  'Interesting' he said to me from the depths of his hood. When I asked him what was so interesting he could only laugh. 'Perhaps you are not as stupid as I thought.' I wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a complement or not. I just shook my head at him as I handed off the spy glass and joined the other two in rest. In the middle of the night we started to make our way down the mountain again. Towards the smooth trails that would lead us to the White Spire. We decided that we would hide as close to the trail as possible and ambush one of the food shipments. We would then have Zackary drive the wagon into the spire while the rest of us hid. We observed shipments come in, three or four times every day for the last two days. We had no reason to think anything would change the longer we watched. Just before dawn we found ourselves a spot near the trail where we could hide among the rocks with bit of clever magic from our wizard. Then it just turned into a waiting game.

  We saw what we hoped would be our wagon coming from quite a ways out. The driver was frantically urging the horses on demanding more and more speed out of the great lumbering beast. Something did not seem right, something seemed strange. It was not until I saw the man standing up to look behind him that I noticed. This driver was alone, I took the spy glass from Zender and looked at the driver. His tunic was tattered and covered in blood. I assumed since the driver looked fine, that it wasn't his blood. Each food shipment came with at least two men. Sometimes more but never less than two. Before I could decide if this was our lucky day I felt an urgent tap on my shoulder. Zender was trying to pull me down all the while pointing up the trail. Ten men, all mercenaries under the employ of Ramanthus were quickly coming down the trail. They would meet the wagon before we had a chance to attack it. All we could do was sit there and hope Lomarks magic would hold, that we would not be seen.

  I held my breath as the troops ran past our hiding spot. Not a single one looked our way yet for some reason I could not let go of my sword. We could hear the screaming off in the distance but none of us could make it out right away. The wagon driver was waving at the troops headed his way, waving his arm and shouting at the top of his lungs. All the while continuing to push the horses as fast as they would go under their heavy load. 'Run!' he said. 'It is coming, run away!' I looked at my friends and asked the question we were all thinking. What was coming and why would they need to run? The men stopped as the wagon rolled to them. The driver was leaning over in the seat talking to the leader, I tried to make out what they were saying to each other but the pounding in the distance was distracting me. 'Do you hear that? What is that? Give me the spy glass Darmot.' Zender demanded. The cleric stood up as much as he dared to see past the rocks that were helping to hide us. When all he said was 'Interesting' I wanted to throttle him.

  Soon we could all see it, running across the barren ground, each step making a heavy thud on the ground. From the rough shape and crazy mass of hair on its head I assumed it was just a hill giant. As it got closer to the panic stricken wagon driver I saw just how wrong I was. While it was at one time a hill giant, its rotten face and green skin told me that it had not been a hill giant in a very long time. The wagon driver not completely out of his mind jumped from the wagon and started to run on foot up the trail. Leaving all of his goods behind. Ten men stood between the wagon and the undead giant. I will give them credit for being brave enough to stand their ground. Yet they were not smart enough to avoid the giant's club as it charged after the wagon. In one massive sweep of its arm it crushed three men. A fourth man was bowled over by giant bare feet, crushed into a bloody red pulp on the ground. 'Oy, dat bloody well had ta hurt.' Zackary took the words out of my mouth. While the driver had jumped from the wagon, the horses were still trying to get away. When the giant ran up beside the horses and clubbed the first one in the head I knew we had to do something. I turned to the cleric and wizard and told them to stay put and to stay hidden.

  I slapped Zackary on the back and motioned for him to follow me. We quickly moved out of our hiding spot and into view of everyone. I could tell the six remaining men did not know who we were and to make matters worse we all stopped and watched in horror as the giant dropped to its knees. It started to chew on the mangled and bloody head of the horse it killed. The second horse fought in vain to free it's self from the wagon at the sight of its partners demise. Zackary and I stood in the center of the road, north of the wagon. The other six men stood on the south side of it. They were watching us and the giant. All I knew was that we could not afford to let the giant kill the second horse. I told Zackary to watch my back as I moved towards the giant. It turned its head towards me, still holding the horse by the neck with half of its head in its mouth. It dropped the dead beast, picked up its club and started to get up again. Much to my dismay, some of the other men started to move towards me. Yet the giant was my first priority, I was the only one on that road strong enough to deal with it head on.

  The undead giant got to its feet again as it raised its club high above his head. It sought to crush me there on the spot. I charged forward as fast as my feet would carry me, striking at the giant just above its exposed knee. I pray I never see anything so wretched again as what happened then. Putrid green flesh exploded all around me as I cut the giants leg off just above the knee. As the undead beast fell over into the road I could feel the sickly green matter entering my eyes. I was covered in the green matter from the giant’s leg from head to toe. Never in my life have I felt such pain as I did that day. I backed away from the other men towards Zackary, pleading with him to wash my eyes out with water. With the giant down the other men started to attack it. Trying to finish it off while it was still down. Zackary had dropped his weapon in the road and was doing his best to clean the infected matter from my eyes. All I could do is scream for water. It was then that the rest of the men moved to attack us. With my blurred vision I saw Zackary pick up his weapon and move away from me.

  From what Zender told me later Zackary fought like a man possessed. Cutting into the mercenaries without mercy. He protected me long enough to find my water tin so I could wash out my eyes. My eyes were red rimmed and swollen, it was all I could do to keep them open at all. I looked at the world and it appeared to be wrapped in a white silken haze. If not for Zackary's red hair, I would not have been able to tell him from the others. I held up my weapon and shield with no hope of helping him at all. Not that it stopped me from going forward. I only hoped that if nothing else I would not harm Zackary. When the cross bow bolt slammed into my shoulder I knew it was coming. I could hear it but there was nothing I could do to avoid it. While my armor stopped it from ripping through my shoulder, it still managed to draw blood. I tried to shake it off but as soon as I took a step forward I could feel the burning. Not in my eyes but in my shoulder, where the poisoned bolt had found its mark. As I took a second step my world went from white, to gray to black. The only thing I remember after that was falling forward and Zackary's scream.

  57. Souls Lost and Found

  Linda Tapper, the newest serving girl at The Red Dragon Inn was worried about the little halfling near the fire place. She had seen him in here all the time, served to him many times over the last couple of months yet she had never seen him like this. As if he was the only one in the room, the only person or thing he had eyes for was the dragon head on the wall. The other girls told Linda that he took his favorite spot just before dawn and had not moved all day long. He ate a bit, drank far less than ever before and never spoke other than to ask for an order. Linda was popular with the folks who frequented the inn. Her fire red hair and ample bust line made her stand out. Most folks figu
red she would only be there long enough to find a husband. Most folks didn't know that she had one and buried him just the year before.

  "Well, I have had enough of this" she said to no one at all. She untied her apron and told the cook she was taking off for the rest of the night. She made one last trip behind the bar and filled up two large tankards of ale. Weaving her way past the mostly empty tables she sat both mugs down on the Halflings table. Pulling out one of the chairs she sat down next to him and waited for him to say something. Looking into his eyes she could see something, something she knew all too well. "So, how long are you going to stew here Master Pare?" The halfling looked up and gave her a faint smile.

  "Oh, hello Linda. Is everything all right?" He asked without much feeling in his voice.

  "I should be asking you that question. I have never seen you look so lost." Linda took one of the tankards into her hand and started to drink while she pushed the other towards the halfling.

  "I am just not feeling well. I miss my friends and I miss the old times. I wish I could put everything back to normal. When we were all together and not fighting. I wish Darmot would come home so I didn't have to worry about Jasmin. Now I find out that Hetaron wants to kill Darmot and Jasmin. Cynthia lied to me, made me like her and now I see it was just so she could get close to my other friends. It is all just a big mess and I don't know what to do any more." Linda could hear the frustration in the Halflings voice and felt a bit queer as she watched a tear roll down his face.

  "Well, sitting here like a bump on a log isn't going to make anything better. Lord Kromwell will be home before you know it. You just wait and see. Do you want me to make up your room tonight or will you be heading out?"

  "How can things get better, every time I turn around it is a little worse than before?"