Siege Tactics (Spells, Swords, & Stealth Book 4)

by Drew Hayes

  With some effort, Grumph repressed a shiver. None of the others had known Thistle before Maplebark. They’d never seen the wild-eyed gnome who would go to any lengths to win, to survive, cost be damned. Madroria had tempered him, and settling down into a life of peace hadn’t hurt either. He preferred this version of Thistle to his younger, more hot-blooded counterpart. While it was true that Thistle may have lost some of his edge in the process, this version rarely ever scared Grumph. The old Thistle often had.

  “We’ve come far,” Grumph said. “Further than I hoped for.”

  It was true. When first setting out, Grumph had merely prayed that they would live long enough to get the mad king’s attention off of Maplebark. Not only had they escaped the lands of Solium, they’d even gotten through an entire second kingdom intact. It was an amazing feat, especially considering their humble origins. If this was where the journey took them, Grumph could find peace with that. He wished he could save the others, though. They were younger. They still had potential full lives ahead of them. Grumph and Thistle had journeyed together and seen much. Should they fall, it wasn’t quite the same tragedy.

  Noticing that Thistle was still silent, Grumph decided to nudge him along. The gnome had a bad habit of getting too caught up in his own head when he grew fixated on a problem. “Tell me your best guesses.”

  “The first is the most obvious, but does still have to be considered: the automaton was sending an honest message, and in a few hours, we’ll be overrun by more of them. Least likely, of course, since Kalzidar doesn’t seem the type to give us actual fair warning. But that’s where we hit the problem. If it’s not true, then why go to so much trouble to pen us in like this? That only makes sense if Kalzidar wants us away from a different fight, yet I cannot, for the life of me, think of a situation where a god would fear our party. Even destroying the heart was simply us completing the last step in a process that started centuries before we got involved. I don’t have other guesses, because they’re all too far-fetched. Until I can figure out what it is that Kalzidar wants, and how we’re involved, I can’t piece together his plan.”

  “Then what makes us unique?” Grumph probed. Thistle rarely needed actual help when pondering; he just did it better with a friend to keep him on the path of productive thought.

  Thistle took his time with the question, giving it proper consideration. “Gabrielle’s condition is rare, but not unique, and given that we only just learned about it, I can’t imagine that to be what is driving all of this. Eric has the ability to use the Bridge; however, Fritz just told us that folks like him aren’t impossible to find, so this would be a lot of work just to kidnap or kill him. While Timuscor is a good man and a fine warrior, at the end of the day, he’s a normal knight, putting all this echo business aside. Again, hardly common, but not unique. You, old friend, may well be the rarest among us all. A half-orc wizard is far from a common sight, yet I can’t seem to figure out why that would make you a target. Although you’re learning and improving fast, there are stronger mages out there. Which only leaves me. As the one who actually destroyed his piece of divinity, revenge makes sense, but there are countless other ways for a god to have me killed.”

  To his surprise, Grumph realized that Thistle had in fact missed something. Whether it was stress or his focus on the well-being of the others, he’d slipped over a rather key detail. “You didn’t destroy Kalzidar’s divinity. The sunlight did.”

  A long stretch of silence ran between them, broken by a string of curses spat from Thistle’s mouth before he moved on to more acceptable words. “You’re right. And Grumble was the one who let that sunlight break through. Grumble was the one whose paladin betrayed Kalzidar in the first place. Grumble is the one Kalzidar would want revenge on, and if his power is truly heightened, then this is a perfect opportunity.” Looking down at the magical armor protecting his body, Thistle ran his hand across the cool metal.

  “Grumble only has a single paladin. One sole emissary to serve his will, a paladin who has now been caged and cut off from his god. I wouldn’t expect that to matter, but based on our situation, I have to presume it does.” Standing from the grass, Thistle brushed aside a few blades. “Grumble being the target is the first theory I’ve hit on that at least makes some sort of sense, even if there are a lot of unknown factors to account for. I’m not sure how that knowledge will help, but I do feel more on solid ground with some idea to start from. Your help, as always, is indispensable, old friend.”

  Grumph merely responded with a nod as Thistle strode away, off to dig into some lead or thought that was buzzing around his brain. That was the way he readied himself, just as Grumph rested in the sun. Both of them could taste the blood on the wind; something was coming.

  And once it arrived, it would find them waiting and ready, with weapons drawn.

  * * *

  When the alert came, Russell almost didn’t catch it. He was getting the house ready for their next session, when the party would finally reach Lumal. After yesterday’s surprise city-wide fight, he hadn’t been sure they’d make it. Only careful strategy, exceptional cunning, and several amazing rolls had delivered them from the den of the helsk. Now, at last, they were nearing Lumal, and Russell could hardly wait to see what came next. That section of the module was sealed, as were several others, meant to be opened only when the party arrived. Russell had never been the type to peek ahead, and that was before he knew there was magic wrapped up in all of this. He wouldn’t dare break that seal before it was time; there was quite literally no telling what the consequences might be.

  As he was putting sodas in the fridge, his phone beeped. It happened just as he was finishing up with a pack of cans, fortunate timing that allowed him to notice the noise. Initially, Russell thought he’d check it later, but he couldn’t risk it being one of the players with a question. This would probably be a long session, and starting off by dealing with issues that could have been solved beforehand would only drag things out.

  Yanking the phone from his pocket, Russell saw that it wasn’t a text he’d gotten, it was an email. Clicking on the icon revealed a message from an address he nearly didn’t recognize. In his defense, he’d only seen it once before, when he sent the first missive reaching out. The message read:

  “Hi there, Russell! That was quite an interesting email you sent, talking about artifacts that reach between worlds. Love the imagination. I’m not sure how you got my address, but we’re always looking for creative types at Broken Bridge Publishing. I’ll attach a link at the bottom to a temp agency we use. Drop them a line so you can be in the system, and we’ll see what openings there are. Thanks so much for the interest.

  P.S. If you’re interested in a more direct job, try speaking to Calsius in Venmoore.”

  Russell nearly dropped the phone as he read that first sentence. He hadn’t signed the last email, and he’d used a dummy account with no personal information tied to it, so how in the living hell did she know his name? Aside from that, the reply was almost aggressively normal, treating him like he’d been trying to pitch an idea for a job. Anyone he showed it to would get exactly that impression, which was no doubt the point. Except for that last line about Venmoore… it didn’t really fit with the rest of the email, and the name tickled at his memory.

  Digging through some of the older modules, Russell pulled up a map of the kingdoms. Sure enough, past the western border of Alcatham and Urthos, in the northern part of the Thatchshire kingdom, there was a city named Venmoore. Was she fucking with him? Making a joke out of his supposed delusions?

  No. That’s what it would read like to almost anyone else, but Russell knew that the magic was real. He’d fought against it for too long. Now that he’d finally accepted his new reality, he wouldn’t be tricked into believing otherwise. Assuming that Mitch had told the truth—and if he was lying, Mitch would have made himself look better—then the woman on the other side of this conversation knew what was going on as well. Probably more than Russell.
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br />   When looked at from that perspective, the final line made more sense. She was telling him to prove it. If he really was capable of interacting with a being from that world, then this was a path forward. If not, then she’d just dismissed someone fishing for information. The only people who could move past this point were ones capable of interacting with the other world—the people who had the modules.

  Sitting down at the breakfast table near the back door, Russell looked over the email several more times before putting his phone away. He would tell the others after they got to Lumal, after tonight’s game. They’d worked too hard to get here. They deserved to see the payoff, and if he told them about the message, the party might reorient to Thatchshire right away. Russell was a GM first, an investigator second.

  With that done, he turned his attention back to getting things ready. The others would get here soon, and Cheri was bound to wake from her nap eventually. Everything needed to be ready. He put the email, the questions, and everything else out of his mind. It had taken a lot of work for them to reach Lumal, and as GM, it was on him to properly present their payoff. Truth be told, he was probably more excited than the rest of them to break open the module’s seal.

  There was no telling what kind of magic and wonders the city of Lumal might hold.

  40.

  The tavern looked surprisingly busy, despite the relatively few people inside it. That appearance was all the more impressive given that the building was meant to hold far more than the paltry ten people, and one boar, currently present. The rest of the town was absent, the background faces that Gabrielle had grown accustomed to seeing on occasion having vanished, leaving only those who were preparing to fight. Notch’s contribution included Brock, Simone, Julian, Jolia, and Kieran, who was pacing about. Gabrielle’s party was present, as well; Thistle and Grumph were whispering in the back, Eric had a sleepy stare she hoped he planned to lose soon, and Timuscor, with a newly armored Mr. Peppers, was at a table near the bar. As for Gabrielle, she was lounging in a chair, watching the whole thing. There was tension in the air, a tingle across her skin. Although it had been beyond her in Maplebark, Gabrielle had begun to grasp what people meant when they said they could feel a battle approaching.

  “Everyone, I think we’re ready to get started,” Kieran announced. Gabrielle noticed he was resting a hand on the hilt of his sword now, yet one more small sign of the approaching danger. “Let’s start by having Jolia and Simone hand out any of the recovered raider gear they think will be useful. Hopefully, Fritz will be here by the time that’s done, so we can go over the traps she and Eric laid.”

  Gabrielle was tempted to ask where exactly Fritz had gone, but she tossed the idea aside with a lazy smile. Fritz was a whirlwind; she went where she wanted, and good luck to any who tried to keep up. It was one of the things Gabrielle liked most about the elf trader.

  “Okay, you lot, time for the goodies.” Jolia pulled a seemingly small bag from her side, dipping a hand in to pluck items out. “For the most part, you can divvy these up as needed. One or two do have limits on who can use them, though. Speaking of: we’ve got a Ring of Shielding.” From the bag she produced a golden band with a line of white material woven through it. “It helps protect the wearer from damage, but since we took it from a dead man, I wouldn’t rely on it more than dodging and common sense. Unfortunately, the enchantment is based on divine magic, so Gabrielle won’t be able to wear it. Don’t fret, the amount isn’t too strong. You can touch it without issue, or be near someone wearing it, but if you tried to use it you’d feel like you came down with a sudden illness.”

  “Got it. No ring for me. My mother’s greatest fear has finally come to life.” Gabrielle meant it as a joke, and it did get a few chuckles from her friends, but to her surprise, she felt an echo of pain in her heart. Overbearing as they could both be at times, she missed her parents. Sometimes, when the others slept and the stars were high overhead, Gabrielle would wonder how they were doing. They probably thought her dead after she vanished, and that was for the best. They wouldn’t possibly recognize the woman she’d become. Nevertheless, it might have been nice to give them the chance.

  Jolia set the ring on the counter then went back into the bag, pulling out a black, knotted cord that ended in a small silver pendant. “Next up is a necklace that sharpens the senses, allowing you to even see in the dark. No limits on that one.” The necklace joined the ring, and Jolia went back to rummaging. Her next pull from the bag was substantially larger than the prior two. “After that, a pair of boots that increase the wearer’s speed. Again, no limits on those.”

  To Gabrielle’s surprise, Jolia paused before reaching in again, muttering a short spell under her breath. The gnome’s hand dug deep into the bag, emerging with the hilt of a sword. As it was drawn, Gabrielle’s eyes widened. She knew that blade. It had been Elnif’s, the one that had caused both their weapons to shake when they clashed. True, it hadn’t shown any magic beyond that and being exceptionally sharp, but something in her gut told her there was more. Still, if it was strong, better it be in their hands than their enemy’s.

  “Here’s our other limited option find,” Jolia explained, somehow holding the blade with a single arm as she set it on the counter. “Good sword, strong and durable, but again with a tinge of divine magic, so a no-go for Gabrielle—not that any of us imagine she’d trade out her axe. If you can bless it and find someone to shrink it, then it would be a fine fit for Thistle. As is, I’m fairly certain only Timuscor can use it.”

  “But Shandor went to the trouble of sharpening my blade,” Timuscor protested.

  Jolia shrugged. “Then keep this one as a backup. Shit happens, weapons get lost or stolen; never hurts to have a spare.” Her words were true, not that it mattered. Somebody was taking this sword out of Notch, be it as backup or cargo.

  Timuscor clearly didn’t have a counterargument for that, so he merely leaned back in his chair and nodded. With the sword finally deposited, Jolia reached into the bag once more, coming out with a leather cuff that had been dyed white—or perhaps crafted from some kind of white flesh, now that Gabrielle looked a little closer.

  “Funnily enough, this one actually doesn’t function on divine magic, despite what it does. It’s a bracelet made from the hide of a mana-beast. Their kind are rarely seen on our plane, and they’re brought down even less frequently. They come in a variety of hues and abilities; this one’s flesh was well-suited to healing magic. Wear this, and any healing spell will have an increased effect.”

  All eyes went to Thistle. He was the only one among them who could even use healing magic, so it seemed a natural fit. The paladin had stopped talking to Grumph and was paying close attention as the items were laid out. Considering the information he had, Thistle tapped his fist on the table three times before turning to face the others.

  “Based on what we know, it seems the best uses for this gear are to give Timuscor the sword and myself the bracelet. Gabrielle can’t use the ring, and Eric already has a pair of speed-enchanted boots, so it makes the most sense to give our barbarian some added mobility. That leaves the sharpened senses necklace and the ring that shields. My inclination is to have Grumph use the ring while Eric takes the necklace, but a case could be made for going the other way. Any objections to this allocation of items?”

  Everyone shook their head, save for Eric, who forced his eyes fully open and piped up. “Necklace works for me. I’ve got good armor, but a rogue is only as useful as the dangers they can spot. Plus, Grumph can use all the extra protection he can get, since he’s stuck with robes.”

  “Agreed,” Grumph rumbled.

  Jolia headed back to the bar as Kieran stepped forward. She was, for a change, sticking to water. Evidently, the threat was serious enough to demand a clear head, at least for the night. Just as Kieran opened his mouth to speak, the tavern door slammed open and Fritz came bursting through.

  “Who needs energy? Because I’ve got potions hot from the cauldron, ready to be
guzzled down. Eric, you first. We might have overdone it with the Bridge today; you look like re-cooked hell.” From the softly clinking pouch in her hand, Fritz produced a vial with light red liquid inside. She handed it over to Eric, who glared down suspiciously.

  “You expect me to drink a strange potion you’re handing me?” Eric asked.

  “Look at that, someone has gotten better at being a rogue since our last adventure.” The grin on Fritz’s face didn’t dim; her self-assurance was locked firmly in place. “But no need to worry. These are potions to recover from fatigue and temporarily remove the need for rest. Using them for more than three days in a row will cause you to pass out, or occasionally die; however, for one night, there’s no real risk. Guards of the wealthy use these to stay vigilant.”

  He was still staring at it, uncertain, but eventually, Eric tipped the potion back into his mouth. If she wanted them dead, there were much less obvious ways to make it happen. No sooner had he lowered the vial than Eric shivered. As the shiver ended, he stood up straighter, bloodshot eyes clearing in seconds. All of the weariness had been wiped away, leaving Eric looking as if he’d just finished a sound night’s rest.

  “That is dangerous. If not for the warning, I could see how adventurers might try to replace sleep with these.” Eric gingerly set the empty vial down on the table, visibly surprised by how alert he’d become.

  Fritz snapped it up and tossed it back into the bag, then pulled out several full vials. She moved as she spoke, handing out the containers. “Everyone here who isn’t a legendary former adventurer or undead, drink up. If this fight drags out, we could go late into the night, and these will make sure none of you gets drowsy.”

  Following Eric’s lead, Grumph, Timuscor, and Thistle swigged down the contents of the vials Fritz gave them. The effect was less pronounced than it had been on Eric, but after everyone shivered, they did seem more alert. Getting sleepy while fighting through the night was a risk Gabrielle hadn’t considered, though she should have. There was so much more to a battle than merely swinging a blade, and just when Gabrielle felt like she was getting a handle on things, she realized there were yet more elements to account for. How long until she felt truly competent, the way everyone in Notch did? Despite knowing that she was a pebble comparing herself to a mountain, it was impossible not to. One day, she could be like them. That was the glory of being an adventurer: her path was whatever she made of it.