by Drew Hayes
Worshipping Kalzidar opened the doors to many magics. Unlike most priests, their combined repertoire of spells was closer to that of a wizard or sorcerer. To seek Kalzidar was to seek power, and the god upheld his end of the bargain for those who were faithful. Each worshipper unlocked their own kind of magic when they were accepted into his service. For some, it was based in destruction. Others, manipulation. Others still, precision. There were many who shared similar, if not identical, abilities, yet each gift was always a perfect fit for the recipient. This was one of the reasons priests of Kalzidar had no names. Any priest could possess any power, and without names to track, an opponent could never be entirely sure what they were up against. The world tilted in favor of the good, which meant evil had to be all the more cunning to endure.
As the oldest of the group, the driver was ostensibly in charge, although truly their directives came from Kalzidar himself. No other force could convince four of his priests to work in unison. Trust was not strong among Kalzidar’s servants, likely because some believed that to kill another priest was to prove their superiority and would therefore gain them more of Kalzidar’s favor. In the driver’s experience, their god’s reaction depended largely on how capable the murdered priest had been at their job. Dispatching incompetence was occasionally rewarded, but killing the useful risked earning his ire. Still, the rumor persisted, so he was often forced to strike first, before another priest could attempt to bring him down.
Yes, only Kalzidar himself could have convinced these individual priests to function as a unit. Even that might not have been enough on its own for some. It was their task that truly drove home the importance that teamwork would play. Priests of Kalzidar had ample power, yet even they were limited. There were some tasks that one priest alone could never accomplish.
Four, on the other hand, might just have a chance. The driver urged the horses on, eager to cover as much ground as possible before night descended. They still had a ways to go before they reached their target.
And once they arrived, there would be no rest for the wicked.
10.
“Our trip has certainly taken quite the detour.”
Those were the first words said as they all piled into the room together. Timuscor locked the door behind them, and then sat down with his back against the wood, just in case someone tried to burst through. It was a fine habit to have, albeit not entirely necessary in this particular environment. The room they were in, where Eric would be staying, was spacious and well-cared for, with a door that looked sturdy enough to slow an angry Gabrielle.
Originally, they’d tried to gather in Thistle’s room, only to discover an unexpected issue. While Thistle’s room was as large as any other, the furniture and design was only accommodating to a gnome-sized person. Even the doorknob was low enough for him to easily reach. This was the first time any of them had seen such a place, save for Thistle, and even he hadn’t looked upon a room entirely planned for gnomes since he’d left his hometown. The real question burning in Thistle’s mind was whether the room was always structured like this, or if it had magically re-sized when a gnome took hold of its key.
It was a moot point, or one only worthy of consideration after far more pressing issues were dealt with. Thistle’s words, obscene level of understatement and all, were spot on. In what felt like barely an hour, thanks to their time spent in unconsciousness, they’d fought an army of undead, thought themselves as good as killed, only to have woken up in a hidden town filled with former adventurers. When they’d last set out from camp, there was no way they could have envisioned such a change to their plans. That didn’t mean it was poor fortune that had brought them here, only that it was unanticipated.
“Let’s get the biggest issue out of the way first,” Eric suggested. “Do we trust these people? At least enough to believe the story they’ve told us is true? If we don’t, then there’s not much value in further discussion beyond how we should escape.”
Gabrielle snorted under her breath. “I really hope that if they were lying, they’d have come up with something more believable. A town of former adventurers, most of whom are strong enough to kill us all single-handedly? That’s too tough a sell, if it’s not the truth.”
“Aye, my instincts align with Gabrielle’s. Even when fighting the undead, I never felt the tinge of true evil around us, only that facsimile. Add in the fact that they not only knew what the Bridge was on sight, but were also smart enough to be wary of it, and the story holds together well. Perhaps, however, we should turn to another for insight.” Thistle looked toward Timuscor, who was scratching behind Mr. Peppers’ ears as they both blocked the door. “If any of us were to sense a lie in their words, I suspect it would be you.”
The ear-scratching continued for several long seconds as Timuscor stared off into the air, peering at a scene in his mind that no one else was privy to. “I can’t attest to their honesty about everything; I don’t read people as well as most of you. I just know that they were telling the truth about us. Me and them, I mean. Echoes. They knew the pain exactly, and when I look into their eyes… I don’t think I could identify another of us on sight, but I can almost grasp how they knew it in me. There’s an emptiness; maybe the kind you can only see if you’ve also felt its pain. On that account, at least, they’re telling the truth.”
“Agreed.” Grumph kept his contribution short and simple. There was so much to talk over; he saw little point in dragging this point out.
“More or less lines up with my own impressions, so it seems we’re in agreement on at least that point.” Eric looked a tad relieved. No doubt he, like most of them, was trying to imagine how in the hells they would escape a town full of people whose power dwarfed their own. “Which brings us to the next issue: what do we want to do? If we’re not prisoners, then we can leave, probably with an enchantment or two to keep us silent, though I doubt any of us planned on spreading this rumor, anyway. We could be back on the road to Lumal by the next sunrise.”
His words were met with uncertainty, shifting gazes, and half-mumbled words of response. Gabrielle was the one to finally speak up, as she was the most comfortable in trusting her instincts. “Or we could stay. Not for the rest of our lives, but for a couple of days. We do need a rest; it’s been a long trip from Camnarael. Besides, we were going to Lumal to look for answers, weren’t we? Well, in just the time we’ve been here, we’ve met a mage who specializes in the undead and a swordsman who sure acted like he knew an awful lot about the Bridge. If all the people here really are former adventurers, then there’s got to be some useful information to uncover.”
“If they talk,” Grumph reminded her. “Not everyone is eager to share knowledge.”
“A valid point, old friend, yet I find myself on Gabrielle’s side. The only way to find out what they’re willing to share is to stick around long enough to ask.” Thistle pulled out a map from his bag, spreading it out across the wooden floor.
His fingers, one of the few un-gnarled parts of his body, traced along the rough routes painted on the parchment. “We were only a short ride from the Lumal entrance when we took this detour. If we stick around for about three days, it would be long enough to fully rest ourselves and the horses, while also getting a general lay of the town. At the end of that time, assuming that we have uncovered nothing useful, we can then take back to the road and finish our journey feeling refreshed. On the other hand, should we discover that we’re here for a reason, we can reassess the duration of our stay. It’s not as though we have a pressing appointment in Lumal. We could stay here for a full year and the City of Knowledge would still be waiting for us.”
“We should also resupply.” Grumph wasn’t entirely sure he was on board with this town and its curious inhabitants, but he’d been alongside Thistle long enough to see where the gnome’s preference lay. While he might have debated the point if Grumph had possessed a solid counterargument, the truth was that he knew his reservations were simply his own natural wariness manifesti
ng. Maybe this place was on the up and up. Maybe it wasn’t. But if it turned out to be the latter, he wasn’t going to get caught by surprise.
“Given the isolated nature of the town and their unique form of economy, I’m not sure we’ll be able to fully restock our reserves, but I bet we can scrounge up something,” Eric said.
There was a heavy thud of movement as Gabrielle pulled herself up from the floor. All eyes naturally turned to her, silently awaiting an explanation.
“Whatever else you all decide, we’re agreed that we’ll spend the next few days here, right?”
“Aye, that appears to be the general consensus.”
Gently, Gabrielle reached around and patted the axe currently strapped to her back. “Then I should go figure out whether or not those sheep summons will feed the axe. You can brief me on the rest when I get back, but that’s something I’d like to get sorted as soon as possible.”
“Not alone.” Eric hopped up, his lack of a cumbersome weapon and general spryness making the affair go much faster. He held up a hand before Gabrielle could speak. “I already know you’re a better fighter than me. That’s not the point. We don’t have much information on this place or these people yet, so we should all stick together whenever possible. It’s nice that we don’t think they’ll kill us, but let’s not trust that completely just yet.”
“I wasn’t going to object. I like having company.” A mischievous smile burst onto Gabrielle’s pale face. “But thanks for admitting I’m better. Going to hold that one over you for a long while to come.”
“I meant better for now. Don’t think for a second that I’m not planning to catch up,” Eric shot back.
Thistle cleared his throat, bringing their attention back to the room as a whole. “Assessing Gabrielle’s condition and how we’ll treat it is a good first priority. And Eric is correct; we should take minimal risks until we fully understand our situation. We move in units of at least two when not at the tavern. You both go ahead and see how killing the sheep goes; we’ll remain behind and try to decide what comes after that.”
“If it’s okay, I’d like to go with them,” Timuscor said. “My contributions to planning are non-essential, and I want to see more of this strange town.”
Before Thistle had a chance to respond, Grumph nodded. “Good idea. Take your time; get the lay of the area. We’ll meet back for dinner.” Given the bond Timuscor shared with the people of this town, there was a chance Thistle might have prioritized caution and kept Timuscor from exploring until they knew the area better. Grumph understood what it was like to feel lost in the world, though. The fact that Timuscor hadn’t gone bursting through the door already was a testament to his loyalty and discipline, but the man plainly wanted to go learn more. Besides, if anyone in this town was going to talk openly with a member of the party, it would be Timuscor. They saw him as one of their own, even if Grumph didn’t fully grasp the distinction between him and the rest of the party yet.
“Dinner is a sound idea. Enough time for us to ponder and for you all to explore. Just keep to the town proper. We don’t want to accidentally trip any more of their wards or security,” Thistle cautioned.
“Somehow, I think we’ll manage to amuse ourselves in a town full of weirdly powerful people with thrilling pasts.” With that, Gabrielle helped Timuscor up, yanking him to his feet and clearing the door. Since this was technically Eric’s room, everyone left together, Eric pausing only to lock the door behind them. Thistle and Grumph adjourned to Grumph’s room, while the others headed for the stairs.
As the group separated, both halves silently hoped that this town truly was what it seemed. If not, given the power level in play, this might very well be the last time they all saw each other alive.
* * *
“What do we think of them?” Kieran asked the question, despite the fact that he’d been the one to spend the most time around the new party. Simone was in second place on that score, although it was hard for her to give measured judgment, given the context of their interactions.
Jolia was looking into a crystal ball hovering just below eye-level. “Now that we’ve gotten them away from the artifact, it’s much easier to check them properly. From what my spells can determine, no enchantments are in place to shield their appearance or natures. The whole church is enchanted with Truth Compulsion, so if they’d lied, you’d have known it. A few among their number have wisps of divine magic coming off them; however, none appears to be evil in nature.”
“That many showing evidence of interacting with the divine is troubling in itself. A paladin is one thing. Rogues are another matter. These people have gotten up close and personal with at least one god, and that in itself should worry us.” Simone, given her specialty and history, wasn’t inclined to trust those who worked for the gods; a suspicion that applied doubly so to the gods themselves.
She had a point, but Kieran wasn’t sure if that should count as a strike against the party. The gods treated mortals like assets at best and playthings at worst, so it was something of a stretch to assume these five had any say in whatever path their god was shoving them down. Kieran would have liked Brock’s input, rough though it would have been; however, he was stuck at the inn, keeping tabs on their guests.
“Something else worth noting: one of them has got some sort of divine-shielding enchantment in effect. I mean, wow, this is actually amazing craftsmanship. Such a smooth build, like the spell grew into shape naturally. It sort of blends their presence with the flow of mana. I almost wasn’t able to catch it, and I’m scrying specifically for things like that. One of them really doesn’t want to be seen by any gods.” Jolia leaned in closer, eyes narrowing, a small bit of tongue poking through the side of her mouth as she focused. “Oh, slippery little thing, trying to hide the target of your protection, but I’m going to find… hang on, what?”
Leaning back, Jolia’s nose pinched as a rare expression of frustration made its way onto her face. As a master wizard and brilliant researcher, it had been a very long time since she had found herself lacking on a task. Yet, from the evidence before her, there was no other reasonable conclusion to be reached.
“Much as I can’t believe I’m saying this, it looks like I’ll have to wait a minute and take another crack at untangling that enchantment. Some part of it is concealing the target, misdirecting all my efforts so it looks like the boar is the one being hidden from the gods.”
“Any chance that’s actually the case?” Simone asked.
“I suppose, in the sense that anything is possible, it could be true. But if so, that raises so many more questions than I can even imagine the answers to.” Jolia’s nose was still pinched as she wearily shook her head. “No, it’s got to be one of the others. Give me some time. I’ll crack it.”
Damning though that seemed, the mere fact that the enchantment was both divine and strong enough to withstand Jolia’s scrutiny meant that it likely hadn’t come from any of the adventurers. Simone had made them genuinely afraid for their lives; if they’d had that kind of power, they would have used it. Nothing like putting someone in a life-or-death situation to get a firm assessment of their capabilities.
Kieran decided not to waste time dwelling on the detail. “Obviously, none of them have the power to pull that kind of spell off, and even if they had, it’s not like some of our own citizens don’t appreciate privacy from the prying eyes of the divine. We’ll set the matter aside until Jolia can determine more about its true nature. For now, we simply have to decide if we think these people are really who they claim to be. Someone sent them our way. The question is whether they’re accomplices or pawns.”
“I think pawns,” Simone told them. “They weren’t expecting a fight when I surprised them. They really seemed to think they were just exploring a hidden trail. And Timuscor didn’t even know what he was. If they were in on whatever it is that brought them here, then I presume he’d have gotten some warning.”
Though she was still glaring at the crystal ball,
Jolia’s expression softened slightly. “Agreed. Either they’re the greatest deceivers ever assembled, or they really walked into Notch with no idea what to expect.”
“Unfortunately, I’m with both of you on that,” Kieran admitted.
Simone’s brow creased in confusion. “Unfortunately?”
“Very much so. If we thought they had any idea of why they were here, we could extract that information from them. Them not knowing makes it more difficult for us to figure out the reasoning, and I hate that. Because if it turns out they’re unwittingly serving an agenda that conflicts with our own, we may have to stop them. I’d rather know that at the outset, so no one gets too attached.”
“Even if that happens, they could prove to be reasonable,” Jolia said.
To her surprise, that drew a slightly nostalgic gleam to Kieran’s eye. “A nice idea, but remember, they’re still adventurers. When did an adventurer ever take the reasonable option?”
11.
By the time Gabrielle, Eric, and Timuscor arrived at the pen, Jolia was waiting. To their surprise, Simone was with her, looking just as pale and imposing as she had in the woods. Her appearance hadn’t been some affectation to fill them with fear, then. It was just the way Simone liked to present herself. In the bright sunshine of a proper day, however, she looked less outright terrifying and more like aristocracy slumming among the masses. Her expression was neutral as they approached, making it a sharp contrast to the cheerful grin Jolia was sporting.
“Told you so. First thing a party with sense secures is always food and shelter.” Jolia nudged Simone in the ribs before turning to the approaching trio. “She didn’t think you’d show up until the day was nearly done.”
