The Callindra Chronicles Book 2: The Rise of Evil – Chapter 4

“You must learn to control the flames of Maegera if you wish to master the Adamantine forge.”  Dethen said, “And in order to control Maegera’s fire, you will have to conquer your fear of him.”

“Only a fool wouldn’t be afraid of an ancient and malevolent being of primordial fire…” He trailed off and belatedly added “Master.”

“This is true Apprentice, however I didn’t say to stop being afraid; I said to conquer your fear.  Do not let it rule your actions, but instead allow it to advise.  Fear of this monster is an appropriate reaction until you realize that it is bound.”

Durrak flinched as he spoke the words in Ignan, the language of Flame itself, which opened the Gate to Maegera’s fire.  The elemental flame roared forth, bathing the ingot of Adamantine in impossible heat.  The metal shimmered and began to run in rivulets down into a flat mold almost the same shape as the sword he would eventually be making from it.

Wearing nothing but an enchanted apron over a loincloth, Durrak took a deep breath and picked up his hammer and squared his shoulders.  This was the only way he was going to be able to face his parents again.  He had to surpass their expectations.  There was no way he was going to fail.

“LITTLE MAGGOT.”  A voice slammed its way into his skull.  “WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?”  This wasn’t supposed to happen, the monster was supposed to be contained!

In spite of the pressure he felt crushing his body, Durrak raised his chin.  He was a Dwarf after all, and he had his pride.  If Maegera was going to kill him, then he was going to look the demon in his face when it happened.

“I don’t want to fail my parents oh Master of the eternal flame.  I want to live up to the expectations of my family, my clan and my God.”

“IS THAT SO?  AND WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WILL HELP YOU?”  The assault on his entire body and soul was more than he could take and he knew it.

“Why not?” He asked, “What else are you doing?”

Maegera’s laugh shook the marrow of his bones, “YOU HAVE SPIRIT YOUNG CHILDE OF THE EARTH.  THE LAST OF YOUR KIND I SPOKE TO THUS BROKE HIS SKULL WITH HIS FORGE HAMMER TRYING TO BASH ME OUT YET YOU HAVE ENOUGH SPARK TO MAKE DEMANDS.  VERY WELL, THE BLADES YOU WISH SHALL BE FORGED IF YOU HAVE THE FORTITUDE TO ACCOMPLISH IT.”

Durrak’s body trembled with the effort of swinging the hammer.  Sweat poured from his body and his breath came in short gasps.  He refused to allow his hand to unclench from the haft of the long handled forge hammer.  The Ignan words of dismissal fell from his lips like lead and the fires cut off as though they’d never been there.  Two flawless swords, each three paces long and made of the strange marbled metal that only one forge he knew of could melt lay cooling on the stone workbench.

“DO NOT QUENCH THEM LITTLE MAGGOT.” Maegera’s voice echoed in his mind, “THEY WILL COOL IN THEIR OWN TIME.”

Durrak wore his exhaustion like a cloak, but he was satisfied.  Now he would be able to concentrate on what gave him passion.  Now he could make jewelry.

A voice that caressed his mind like a tongue of flame touching dry wood.  It carried with it the ring of a thousand distant forge hammers and the implacable strength of the bones of the earth.

“You have done well to bend the metal and flame to your will.  It shows the mettle that is needed to be forged properly.”

Durrak shuddered as the touch of Thraingaar slipped from his mind.  Surely he had imagined his God’s presence.  He was nothing but the first son of the third Noble House.  His parents were mere Battle Leaders and Speakers.  Perhaps more important than some, but not enough to be of anyone’s notice.  Certainly not the God of the Forge.

Callindra swore, the oath drawing a startled glance from one of Tanner’s warriors who was scouting ahead with her.  None of his men could get used to her being a warrior, her not being in a dress or her being a competent scout.  She was stuck halfway between exasperation and smiling in triumph.

“Another god rotting dead end.”  She concluded, “Go back and inform the others.”

He jerked awkwardly and saluted, turning to run back as she walked along the wall, double checking for passages that might have been missed.  A glimmer of light caught her eye, and although she thought it likely one of the many clumps of strange phosphorescent moss that grew down here, she wasn’t taking any chances.

The wall exploded in a twisted tangle of misshapen arms and legs and only Callindra’s lightning reflexes saved her from going down beneath the onslaught of a half dozen monsters with scaly skin and glowing emerald eyes.  They hissed in hunger and closed with her more quickly than she thought possible, raking at her with wickedly long claws.

Down here the winds weren’t as responsive to her, being stagnant things that crept around corners and slunk through cracks instead of the vast unstoppable forces that lived on the surface.  Unaware of her reliance on their strength and speed, Callindra jumped to one side a tiny bit too slowly and the curving claws tore into her side.  They cut through the boiled leather of her armor with ease and brought a spray of blood with them as they exited her flesh.

The impact of the blow spun Callindra in a stumbling circle, off balance and leaving her guard down.  With snarls, the others leaped at her in unison.  She managed to turn the stumbling turn into a spin and dropped to a crouch, whipping Brightfang through the thighs of one of her attackers.  The monster fell back and another one screamed in rage as a spear drove into its chest, thrown from behind her.

Fighting desperately, she turned a claw strike aside with her sword and dropped flat to avoid another swipe.  The warrior she had sent back to report ran into the fray, a short sword in one hand and a dagger in the other as he attacked silently from one side.  The creatures had been so focused on Callindra that he managed to incapacitate one of them before two fell on him in a flurry of claws and teeth.

A bestial roar announced the arrival of Vilhylm wearing the mask that gave him immense strength.  He cannoned into the side of one of the lizard creatures, crushing it against the wall with enough force to pulverize its bones.  In a flurry of strikes, the other arms men who followed Vilhylm hacked the remaining creatures to pieces.

There were a few human forms laying among the reptilian dead.  Callindra forced herself not to think of it; there was a butcher’s bill to pay to escape these cursed caves and she was just grateful not to be added to the tally.  At least not yet.

She looked past the soldiers making sure of the dead and joined Vilhylm, looking into the hole the monsters had left in the wall.  Beyond was a smoothly sloping tunnel that curved around and down on one side and up at a similar angle on the other.  To Callindra’s surprise and pleasure, a wind from the outside twined around her ankles like a purring cat before leaping up to tease the wrist thick braid of hair that fell to her waist.

“What is it?”  Vilhylm asked, giving her a quizzical look.

Realizing she was smiling, Callindra grinned even broader.  “There’s a way out.  Fresh air is blowing up this tunnel.”  Her words echoed in the smooth walled passageway and realized it wasn’t natural cavern, it was worked stone.

Vilhylm seemed to have noticed it as well.  “Get the others.  We need to move carefully and quietly.  There may be more of those things.”

Reluctant to leave the fresh breeze, Callindra turned back, dispatching the warriors back through the caverns to bring the main group of refugees from where they rested under the watchful eyes of Cronos and Tryst.

Kaleb Bargains With Elvish Nobility

The door to Kaleb’s shop was swept open and an imperious woman in an intricately embroidered silk gown looked around with a skeptical expression on her face.  She had the dusky golden skin and dark eyes of a Sun Elf and striking, nearly metallic copper hair.  The Goblin Tek smiled a toothy grin from behind the counter.

“Welcome Lady.  How may we be helpful today?”

“Sand and sun!” She took a half step back, snapping a fan open to cover her face.  “It talks!”

“Can I help you?”  Kaleb asked, walking from the workshop and dusting wood shavings off his trousers.

“Perhaps.”  She said, still holding the silk and lace fan in front of her face and eyeing the pair of them dubiously.  “I was looking for a Thiefcatcher, but I think perhaps this is the wrong location.  My Lady has no need for furniture or wood carvings.”

“Carpentry is the family business.”  Kaleb said, giving her a level look.  “The other is my own.  I do have a board at The Wandering Wyvern for folk to leave me messages in addition to a box at the Guildhall.”

“My Lady requires service as befits her rank.”  The woman said loftily, “I am Lady Taryngail’s personal assistant.”

When Kaleb continued to look at her with a blank expression and she snapped her fan shut in agitation.  “Surely there is a more appropriate place we could discuss our business.”  She said with a significant look at Tek.  “Perhaps you would be so kind as to accompany me back to my Lady’s lodgings?”

Kaleb recalled the contingent of wealthy and powerful Elves from Denoria who had established a trade with the hotter desert and jungle regions of the Eastern realms.  They were a haughty and entitled bunch, but they had brought a significant amount of money into Lanthodell and their trade partners were valued by nearly everyone in the city.

He sighed inwardly, preparing to be obsequious. “If it please you, leave your Lady’s card here and I shall call upon her once I have made myself presentable enough to enter into her presence without giving offense.”

Noting with satisfaction the surprised expression on the woman’s face he accepted the lacquered wooden card from her, showed her to the door and went to change out of his simple trousers and leather smock.  While these wealthy folk were a pain to deal with, they did at least pay well.

A candlemark later, he presented the card to a different golden skinned silk clad woman who opened the door. She looked at him briefly before leading him to a waiting room without a word. An array of preserved delicacies was on the room’s sideboard along with a selection of liquors and wines. He ignored all, choosing to stand in an unobtrusive place where he could see all three doors in the room.

A tedious half candle later, Kaleb was considering leaving when a door other than the one he had entered through swung gently open. A tall, willow thin elf with skin a dark reddish gold and hair a myriad of pure white braids the size of his little finger each tipped with a tiny bell wrought from platinum each in the shape of a different animal stepped through it.

She wore a gossamer black veil that covered her below the eyes, and flowing silken robes of an indigo blue that was breathtaking in its intensity. Jet black tattoos swirled over her wrists, ending in elegant runic symbols of power. Her eyes shone with a gentle azure light that trailed out from them in strange lines like the trail the light of a fast-moving torch leaves across the eye in the middle of the night.

Her handmaiden entered behind her, moving quickly to the sideboard and pouring her a narrow fluted glass of emerald green liquor. The Lady Taryngail glided to a chair next to the roaring hearth and sat. “Be sitting if it does please you Thiefcatcher Stoughtbough.” She said, her breath making her veil move ever so slightly. “It would be quite of politeness if you would accept refreshment of my house.”

“Water please.” Kaleb said, moving to sit on the other side of the fire from the lady. Her handmaiden filled a glass with clear water from a pitcher and set it on the small table beside the Halfling. He politely touched it to his lips, not taking a sip. “What have you lost and who has taken it from you?”

She took a delicate taste of her liquor, sipping it through a thin glass straw and looking at him with those eyes that dribbled tiny motes of blue light seemingly at random now that she was seated. “Much with blunt speech have these folk. It is not the ideal of mine to allow such things to be stated so plainly. Perhaps the Nobility of Feycourts have tainted this one’s mannerisms, however it does seem you are lacking in the trust.”

Standing with fluid grace she gestured towards her handmaiden who brought her a small loaf of bread, a dish of dark and pungent vinegar, a small saucer of sea salt and a dish of amber oil. The Lady moved her wrist in the subtlest of motions and a tiny silver knife appeared in it. Cutting a slice from the loaf, she dipped it first in the oil, the vinegar and then the salt. Splitting the bread down the center, she offered him her two hands.

“You are guesting in my tent. I am making the offering of peace. You are safety within these walls, my word and my bread upon it.”

Kaleb took the bread from her right hand and she immediately put the other slice of bread into her mouth, sliding it under her diaphanous veil with practiced ease. He did the same, and followed the complex, flavor of oil, vinegar and salt with a sip of water. The water was not simple or plain either; having flavors of minerals he had not experienced.

“Your choosing of water accentuates the knowledge of our ways.” She said, raising her glass. “Although the sipping of the fermented waters of the cactus would have shown even more.”

“Without knowing what you’ve lost or who has taken it Lady, I haven’t any way of being able to recover it for you.” Kaleb said, “I trust this ritual to mean you have extended trust to me and accepted mine in return. If I choose not to take the job you have my word I will not reveal anything you have told me to anyone.”

“Yes.” Lady Taryngail said with a nod of her head, “My Blademaster finding himself set upon in street while doing the guarding of one of the treasures of the house. This treasure was being in an iron chest of the size of this.” She held her hands in a shape the size of a loaf of bread.

“Who took it? Where was the theft perpetrated?” Kaleb took another drink of water, surprised by the flavor it had once again. “Have you notified the proper authorities?”

“The master of swords was laid low by deceitful poisons injected by projectiles in the city of Desigoringaraitarial. Known by your folk by the name of Denoria.” Her eyes narrowed, “Guardsman having failed, the matter being brought to Thiefcatcher.”

“What do you offer for compensation?” Kaleb deftly sliced another piece of bread; it really was quite good.

“Upon recovering of the thing lost ten thousand coins of gold would be given.” She said in an offhanded tone, as though the money was irrelevant.

“Ten thousand?” Even though he was prepared for something extravagant based on the opulence of the house and the obvious danger involved, Kaleb nearly dropped his bread. He had been working for five years to build up his shop and hadn’t earned that much profit.

“I requiring the thieving dreksa and returning of the property.” The lights of her eyes glittered dangerously, arcing small stars that crackled when they touched a surface and leaving tiny black marks. “Questions beg the answering.”

Kaleb swallowed hard, “I will attempt to find the perpetrator and your stolen property, however taking prisoners is not always possible in this business. I do not want to promise something I cannot be certain of being able to deliver.”

“Fifteen thousand if captured living. Ten if killed and treasure recovered.” She drank the last of her liquor, “Are you accepting of this requested offer of employment?”

Kaleb’s eyes narrowed, “May I ask a direct question?”

“Why would you be changing how you have been speaking?” The Lady said, carelessly moving her hand to one side and dropping her glass. Her Handmaiden smoothly caught the delicate crystal before it had fallen more than a finger length, set it aside and filled a clean glass with pale pink liquid from another decanter and handing it back.

Kaleb caught the intentional scrutiny in her eyes when he met them. “I have two questions before I decide. Why did you pick me? Certainly there would have been people in Denoria who could have handled this for you. I need to know that and I want to know what is in the box.”

“You were selected for being recommended highly and for not being of Denoria. I am trusting you are not involved. You are to be recovering the iron casket intact. If it is opened then recovering it would be unnecessary.” She sipped her drink and he watched the pale liquid travel up the glass straw to vanish beneath her veil.

“What if I travel to Denoria and either can’t find this person or find the package has been opened?” Kaleb asked, “It’ll take weeks to get there and –“

She cut him off with a sharp motion of her hand. “Matters of cost are not being worthy of my time. Your expendings shall be handled. Are you catching my thief or are we looking elsewhere?”

“I will need more information about the crime, the article taken and the location.” Kaleb said, “But yes, I accept.”

Lady Taryngail nodded in satisfaction, stood and swept from the room without giving him another glance. The flickering blue lights at the corners of her eyes left trails of sparks in the air and an exotic perfume.

“I can answer any questions you might have.” Her handmaiden said, “I am acquainted well with the details of the artifact and the theft.”

By the time Kaleb had gotten all the information he believed he needed, he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to do this alone. The skeptical, analytical part of him bereted him for even considering accepting the job. The thief catcher in him was ecstatic at the challenge.

The Death of Flinder Quickfingers

Flinder ran like he had never run before.  It wasn’t supposed to have gone like this; it was a simple job, a quick hit and run with a payout that should have made him look twice but it was for a nobleman and they never knew how much something like this was worth.  Sweat poured down his face as he thought about how wrong things had gone.

Their target hadn’t been a simple merchant; he had been some kind of blademaster.  He fought like a demon and had killed three of Flinder’s crew before the gnome had managed to hit him with enough poisoned crossbow bolts that he had fallen to the cobblestones, paralyzed.  Flinder was far too smart to kill a mark; stealing was one thing, but murder always brought more trouble than any fee was worth.

He had gone personally to recover the merchandise from the carriage.  It was supposed to have been in a small, easily movable iron casket, instead there was a series of strong boxes that had to be individually unlocked.  Every one of them had some sort of trap on it and he only very nearly avoided being poisoned by a particularly nasty needle trap on the last one.

The extra time meant that his crew was fighting the watch off by the time he finally got the casket open.  It was only by luck that he managed to slip through a sewer grate and run before the last of his muscle was overwhelmed.  Then the rats had started running from him.

It wasn’t just the normal running away from a threat, it was a panicked rush of animals that were terrified.  Something was inside the small iron casket.  Something dangerous.  Flinder had no desire to open it and now he just wanted to escape.  But he didn’t dare abandon the job.  If someone wanted this, they were powerful enough mete out retribution if he didn’t come through.

He stopped, his back against the wall and tried to quiet his breathing.  Removing his haversack, he placed the casket carefully inside, making sure to snuggle it between the layers of dirty clothes he had packed inside.  Making sure his hand crossbow was cocked and loaded with another paralytic bolt, he secured it out of sight beneath his rags and slipped out of the sewer into the bustling basement of the laundress’s shop.  This wasn’t the first time Flinder had made use of the slip me out here.  Best ten gold he had ever spent.

Stepping out into torch lit streets, the gnome almost walked straight into the night watchman who was waiting for him.  Maintaining his guise as a rag picker, he squinted at the man and bobbed his head.  “Apologies sirrah, didn’t see ya sirrah, old eyes ain’t what they were sirrah.”

“Flinder Quickfingers.”  He said, his eyes hard.  “Come with me.  We have business to discuss.”

Flinder looked at him for a moment and the man’s gaze was unsettling.  The game was up.  Cursing his luck and cursing the laundress for probably selling him out, Flinder looked for an escape while reaching beneath his rags for his crossbow. He never saw the rope that circled around his neck.

When he regained consciousness, Flinder looked around dazedly.  He was in a prison cell that was apparently built into something resembling a plush office.  Overstuffed chairs were arranged next to a crackling fireplace, paintings were attractively displayed on the walls and various bits of statuary sat on tables and pedestals.  His pilfered iron casket sat on a marble table near the fire.  His stomach churned.  It was open.

“So Quickfingers, tell me what you were thinking you were going to do with this?”  A man in a constable’s uniform gestured at the open iron box.

Flinder licked dry lips and shook his head dazedly.  “I didn’t know what was in it.”  He croaked, his voice raw.  “Just paid to get it.”

“Who would pay for something like this?”  A second man asked.  He was wearing an officer’s uniform; the rank of Nightmaster on his sleeve.  “Do you take us for complete fools?”

“Can I please have some water?”  Flinder asked plaintively, “My throat is parched.”

“God rotting gnomes.”  The Nightmaster hissed, spitting into the fire.

“Sir, I know they don’t understand propriety the way we do, however it makes sense to at least keep his lips moist while he answers our questions.”  The constable said, pouring a cup of water from a pitcher with condensation beading invitingly on the side.

Flinder didn’t even think about it being poisoned when he drank.  After all, they could have killed him any time.  Foolish.  He never expected the truth drugs; he hadn’t known they existed.

“Who hired you?”  The Nightmaster asked, leaning forward to hear the answer.  “What was the payoff?”

“I don’t know the Lady’s name, but she was of noble birth.”  Flinder said, feeling slightly dizzy.  “She offered ten thousand gold, which seemed to be an insane amount but you know nobility.  They’re all a bunch of insane maniacs who have no idea about what jobs are worth, I mean I’ve had Lords insist I assassinate someone for a handful of silver, not that I do those jobs you understand but I’ve brokered-“

“Enough!”  The Nightmaster cut him off, “What is this thing?”

“I don’t know what it was, like I said before, she just said she wanted it and it was important.  Was supposed to just be in that iron casket but they had it in a bunch of other chests and that crazy maniac must have been a swordmaster or something because he nearly killed my entire crew before we took him down.”

“Pox and rot this thing is useless.”

“Perhaps sir, we could sell it to this noble?”

“If we knew her bedamned name.  I’m sure this little bastard has already missed the time for the exchange.  When and where was it Quickfingers?”

“At the eleventh bell.”  Flinder said, feeling even dizzier now.  “In the fountains in the Flower district.”

“Missed it by three hours.”  The Nightmaster sighed, “Another one for the collection I suppose.”  He reached inside the casket and withdrew a hand constructed of a strange shining black material.  It ended right after the wrist in a maw of bristling needle like teeth.  It twitched in his hand slightly, the mouth of teeth opening and closing spasmodically.

“What a terrible thing.”  Flinder murmured, watching the hand as it strove to sink its fangs into the Nightmaster’s arm.  It was the last thing he saw as the poison stopped his heart.

Zilyana Irithyl Part 2

Zilyana felt pressure on her face and realized she was laying face down on the table in her cabin.  Whatever poison the treacherous Forcythe had used hadn’t finished her off, but it was making her limbs feel as though they were made of dead eels.  Struggling to her desk, she fumbled and finally managed to press the three pieces of carved wood that opened one of the secret drawers.

She grabbed one of the antidote potions she kept there for just such an emergency and downed it.  The alchemical mixture cleared her head immediately.  Plucking her hat from where it had fallen, Zilyana closed her eyes and incanted a spell.  The rest of the world seemed to slow down and she invoked another spell, vanishing from where she stood and appearing on the deck of her ship.

It was a scene of chaos; at least a dozen men were bleeding on the deck, a mad struggle between her crew and a bunch of people in dock worker’s garb.  Worse yet, an entire god rotting platoon of soldiers was moving down the deck at speed with weapons at the ready.  Moving with speed that made the others seem to stand still, Zilyana sprinted down the deck hacking through the thick hemp ropes that kept them secured to the dock.

“CAST OFF YA CRACKBRAINED RATS!” She shouted and her crew rallied at the sight of her.  A flight of arrows streaked from the approaching soldiers and swept the deck.  Zilyana wove through them easily to hack the last of the mooring ropes free and planted her feet on the deck.  Raising her blades, she wove them in intricate patterns, scribing runes in the air and shouting words of Power.  The water between the pier and her ship obeyed her commands and rose in a massive wave, heeling Wavebreaker over and moving him away from the pier.

“Prepare to lower sail, get to your positions and keep your damn heads down!  We’re running!”  She yelled, “Lindrix, take the helm I have to focus!”  Without looking to see if her First Mate had obeyed, Zilyana bent her will to force the water to create a wave that swept the smaller craft out of the way as it shoved Wavebreaker out of the harbor against the wind.

Cries of anger came from the dockside as her ship surged away from the shore, gathering speed as it went.  Wiping sweat from her brow, Zilyana gritted her teeth and looked ahead.  A warship, King’s Ransom was raising its anchor.  Shit.

Letting go of the force that kept pushing Wavebreaker forward, she pointed and gestured at the water on the opposite side of the Ransom and a vortex of swirling waters began to form behind it.  The enemy ship spun lazily, turning away from them and foundering in the water.  As their enemies were swept out of the way, the force of the whirlpool shot Wavebreaker out of the harbor into open sea.

With a grimace of effort, Zilyana hurled a wave back toward shore, knowing it would swamp the smaller boats and founder the larger.  With any luck it might even sink a few of those bastards who had come to arrest them.  Releasing the spell that gave her power over water, she focused on a more familiar friend and called upon Nordji, the North Wind to send them on their way.  A private gale, just for them sprang up before her outstretched palm, filling Wavebreaker’s sails and sending them speeding from the city and their enemies.

“Another one?”  Zilyana rubbed her arm over her pained, red eyes.  When had she slept last?

“Aye Captain.”  Lindrix said, lowering his spyglass.  “We ain’t gonna be able to dock here either and if we don’t get out of here fast they will likely catch us.”

Gritting her teeth, she reached out for the power once again.  Pain flashed behind her eyes but she forced the winds to her will again and sent Wavebreaker back out to sea.

“We can’t keep doing this.”  She said, “I can’t keep doing this.  Lindrix, I have to rest.  The instant we lose that sail you need to take over the helm.”

“Of course.”  He said, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.  “We’ll be fine for a time.  You’re the only one who hasn’t rested.  Go on, we can handle this.”

“Come rouse me in an hour.”  She said, and stumbled to her cabin.

It had been many decades ago that she had discovered her brother’s strangeness.  Her beloved grandmother, seven centuries old had died, old age claiming her at last.  Zilyana had wept for days, inconsolable in the grief of losing the first person in her family who had discovered her magical gifts and nurtured them into a thing of deadly grace and beauty.

She had thought that Korikk shared her affection for the ancient woman, but he had been more interested in finding out if she had anything interesting in her personal effects than anything else.  He hadn’t even wanted to attend her Final Rest ceremony.  This hurt almost as much as her grandmother dying.

“Why doesn’t he care momma?”  She had asked, sobbing into her mother’s shoulder.  “He should care.  Grandma was wonderful and I will miss her.  Why doesn’t he feel sad?”

“You know how when you were very little your hair did not grow like the other children’s at first?”  Verrona had said, smoothing her hand over Zilyana’s back.  “It just took longer for your hair to begin to grow.  Korikk is the same way, but for him it’s his emotions that are taking longer to grow in.”

This explanation had mollified her for years.  She had waited for her older brother to understand things that she had felt for as long as she could remember.  Gradually it seemed to happen.  Korikk cried when their pets died.  He laughed at jokes and went through several phases of romantic entanglements with different girls, being suitably morose when the relationships ended.

Zilyana thought at first that her brother’s emotions had finally started to develop just as Verrona had promised, but after a few years she became certain that he was perpetrating a carefully concocted lie.  He was always sad for the same number of hours after each setback.  He laughed for the same number of seconds and always started laughing after everyone else had begun.

“Mother, I am worried about Korikk.” She had said, approaching Verrona in her study where she knew they wouldn’t be disturbed.  “It’s like he is just pretending.  Like he is simply imitating the feelings we all take for granted.”

Verrona sat quietly for a few moments, then quietly walked to the door and closed it.  The air tightened around them for a moment and Zilyana realized that this room wasn’t just private; it was magically warded against any kind of eavesdropping.  Elves were folk whose emotions ran deep, and the thought that someone could be an elf and not feel was frightening.

“It must be hard for him.” Verrona finally said.  Zilyana blinked; she hadn’t thought of it from that perspective before.  “He knows we all feel things; joy, sadness, love, hatred… and yet he stands in the stream of Elven emotion as still as a stone.  It all flows around him, gradually wearing him down and he doesn’t understand it.”

“Oh.”  Zilyana said, “I never thought of it.  Not like that anyway.  I just see him looking at a situation and instead of reacting emotionally to it it’s like he calculates what the expected response is.”  She shivered, “I saw him in a fight last week.  He was just going through motions, he could have been punching a practice pell.  It was like he was a monster, and he only stopped when he noticed that others expected it.  I think he would have beaten that boy to death.”

“There is that.”  Verrona agreed, the picture of calm.  “He is a monster sweetheart, but he is our monster.  Our family has come through dark times before you two were born.  I fear we have some dark times ahead.  There are many monsters in this world, I think it would behoove us to have one of our own.”

Zilyana stared at her mother in shock, and Verrona continued.  “Zil I need you to help him.  He needs coaching if he is to blend in and you know that he isn’t completely without feelings.  They’re just subdued in him.  He needs our love and understanding as well as our coaching or else we will just be ‘a’ monster instead of ‘our’ monster.”

“I understand mother.”  Zilyana said, her mouth dry.

After what seemed like moments, Zilyana jerked awake to the sounds of combat.  As she leaped to her feet, she could see that the day had passed and the moon had risen.  That bastard Lindrix had let her rest too long, but she should have known better.  He always tried to look out for her health and wellbeing, claiming it was his job as First Mate.

She had to grudgingly admit that feeling fully rested and magically recharged would be undeniably helpful in the fight though.  Bursting from her cabin she saw they were flanked by two ships.  Snarling in anger, she leveled a sword at one and sent a blast of flame towards it.  To her shock, an answering weave of power dissolved her lance of fire into motes of light.  Shit.  They had a mage too and he was good.

Their arcane duel made the air hum with power as they employed elemental forces and sheer waves of destruction against one another.  Spells that would have burned either of them to cinders or frozen them solid were deflected and countered.  An arrow from the other ship slammed into her shoulder and Zilyana’s concentration wavered for just an instant.

That instant was all her opponent needed.  He leveled a staff a pace long with arcane symbols on it and bolt of dark energy lanced out towards her chest.  Zilyana was roughly shoved aside and a cry of anguish came from her mouth as she saw Lindrix falling to the deck with half his torso missing.  It was just gone.

With a scream of fury and sorrow, she flung her will into the depths of the ocean.  A wall of water fully twenty feet high rose between their ships, nearly capsizing the enemy vessel.  After it washed over the deck, she directed it to fill the hold.  Again and again she threw wave after wave and shouts of panic began to sound as the ship started to sink lower in the water.

The second ship broke away, its crew fearful of similar treatment.  Zilyana did not stop until the ship that had carried the enemy wizard had sunk beneath the waves.  Turning to the remains of her crew she set her jaw in a hard line.

“Make for open sea.  I know Wavebreaker is a coastal vessel, and so do they.”

“Captain, this is madness!  We can’t possibly survive so long at sea!”  One of her crew protested.  Others nodded in agreement.

“The next time which one of you will throw yourself in front of the death spell?”  She asked, bitter tears streaming down her cheeks, “I wouldn’t ask it of any of you, but I know there are some who would.  Next time they might bring several mages.  We have a hold with food, medical supplies and a few other assorted things that should see us through the voyage.  That combined with my magic will see us through.  My life on it.”

She saw their attitudes chance when they remembered that they had never unloaded their cargo.  More than a few started to laugh and joke about her luck and a few more began to sing a chanty when they remembered the substantial shipment of rum that was also on board.  Zilyana stood rooted to the spot for a moment, amazed at the trust her crew had in her.

‘Our chances are maybe one in a hundred.  If we’re lucky.’ She thought to herself, ‘But they’re better than if we keep losing men to enemy ships. A war of attrition is one we will lose, and quickly.’  Wondering idly if Norjdi was going to eventually stop responding to her demands, she once again summoned will, words and gesture that filled Wavebreaker’s sails and sent the ship on the course she had chosen.

Starvale Adventures: A Prelude to Darkness – Chapter 26

Ylivia looks sternly down upon you, Rowan, her face becoming more serious now. “By what God or Gods would you make such a sacred oath, bard?” She looks you up and down. “I see no sign, no trinket or band which would denote your faith, your magic comes from yon lyre upon thine back,” she points an elegant finger toward Rowan’s prized possession. “Your ilk and kin oft find no love in a God’s work, they find the prayer a chore and yearn for the open road.” Her eyes focus upon Rowan’s. “Would you forswear your life as you know it?”

Rowan squares her shoulders and looks back at the stern faced elf. “You are right, that my magic comes to me through my music, but my music is also the pulse of the land. The pulse of the world, the pulse of the sky and water. Music is the voice of all the gods, and is universal in its power.

“I do not swear to any single god. I honor all gods who value good in the world. All gods who would add to the joy and freedom and safety of the beings here. I honor all beings who have a good heart, who seek to protect the innocent, and who fight evil in all its forms. If I can help you, and this is good enough, then I will be honored to join you. If it is not. If I must choose a single god, or a single path, then perhaps you are right.”

She looks Ylivia clearly in the eyes. “All I know is that if you will have me, my heart and soul will be with the Order, and I will use all the strength of my music and my power to aid its cause against evil, wherever, and however, it should do harm.”

Ylivia holds your gaze and says, “Faith is the greatest weapon against evil; faith in one’s god, one’s friends, and one’s self.  Battling evil is an extraordinary task that requires extraordinary strength and bravery. Punishing an evil act is just. Punishing an evil thought is not. If you would swear by these tenants then go, find Zern Xerkstil, the Hammer of Impiltur, He will induct you into our order, by my recommendation.”

As the other two speak, Sebastian, Lanaver and Tallisk look around the room, attempting to garner any additional information they can before departing.  They realize the cavern and ancient halls are fragile and worn, the obelisks are probably all that holds this structure from collapse. and even those are frail and old. However, Sebastian did disable their magic, for now.

“Thank you.” Rowan says calmly. “With the magic disabled, if we tie ropes to the obelisks, perhaps with our combined strength we can pull them down from outside?”

Tallisk uses the mental and physical conditioning that has been beaten into her for so many years and forces her breathing to return to normal.  As always, she is finding it difficult to return to the normal world after the thrill of combat. The intoxicating effects of the adrenaline wore off and the horror of blood and death returned. She had done it. Again.

The feelings, the urges to fight and kill never seemed to go away. In spite of her best intentions, what her Master had told her was coming true. She was a killer, and nothing she could do would change it now.  The darkness would eventually swallow her just as Kizarvexius had predicted, but at least she had found some decent folk to accompany until her fall should occur.

“Cn we get otta here?” She asks, her voice sounding pleading and hoarse. She took a deep drag on her cigar and exhales twin streams of smoke from her nostrils. “I need a drink ye ken?”

Between them, Rowan and Sebastian loop ropes around one of the obelisks, letting out enough slack that they have a short way to go to get out of the the cavern.  Meanwhile, Lanaver and Hajima gather up weapons and armor from their fallen enemies, rolling it into a couple of bundles for easy transportation.  Tallisk seems to be uncomfortable with the looting of the dead, but doesn’t make an issue of it, instead following Ylivia and Villonah as they make their way to the exit.

When they reach the end of the rope, they all line up as though they were kids playing tug of war and with a few hard pulls tear down the obelisk.  With a rumble of falling rock, the cavern begins to collapse.

“I didn’t think it’d work quite that well!”  Lanaver yells with a madcap grin as they all run for the exit.

“The magic of the Obelisks must have been supporting the cavern.”  Sebastian says, as they make it out just ahead of a plume of dust and spattering of gravel.  “Job well done!”

“I thank you for my life.”  Villonah says, “We will be in touch Rowan Wildpiper, after you have met with Zern.  Fare thee well.”

“May yer cup be ever full.”  Tallisk says, gripping each of the other women firmly by the forearm.  “An stop by th Kettle ta leave us a note if ya need us.  I dinne take kindly ta them what tortures younguns.”

Rowan sighs in relief and says, “Let us go home, my friends. It’s been a long night.”

They cautiously make their way back into the city and quickly go to Madame Freia’s. Rillo was pacing about the hearth, wringing his hands in worry.  A bowl of stew and a flagon of mead sit untouched on the mantelpiece.

Rowan rushes to his side. “She is safe.”

He jumps, not noticing her until she spoke, “How? Where is she? What of her?”

“It’s a very long story, sir, and your daughter is far more than she seems.” Rowan smiles gently at him. You can be proud of her, sir.”

Rillo’s brow furrows, “How do I know she lives?”

Rowan smiles, “Do the words ‘When windfalls way has wound the woods and willows weep their weary wails, I’ll whisk away your worries’ woe with Western winds to fill your sails.’ hold meaning for you sir?”

“Of course!” He says as tears fill his eyes. “Oh thank you!  Please, I would hear the story.”

“Buy me a drink and I’ll spin ya a tale what’ll turn yer hair as red as mine sure an I will.”  Tallisk says with an easy smile.

Rillo hands over the promised gold and buys everyone a round of drinks.  Tallisk regales him with a dramatized retelling of Villonah’s rescue, glossing over the near deaths of Tuskor and Hajima.  With surprising skill she spins it into a grand adventure instead of the bitter fight to the death in a dank, dimly lit cellar smelling of torture and death.

Rowan picks up on her story and begins playing a counterpoint to Tallisk’s telling on her cittern.  By the end, a small group of patrons has gathered around and is listening.  Most of them applaud and a few even toss coins on the table.

Rillo smiles as he turns to go. “Tis great to have goodly folk like yourselves to help the commoners with their plights. Thank ye, once more.” He says, and contentedly strolls out of Madame Freia’s and off to home, whistling a merry tune.

“That was a goodly telling.”  Rowan says, giving Tallisk the full beam of her brilliant smile.  “I had no idea you had such a gift.”

“Eh?  Well…”  Tallisk sighs, “I used ta tell me rats tales ye ken?  Back in th day.”

“Rats?”  Rowan looks confused, but the other woman is already wandering off towards the bar.

Tallisk feels lost at sea with the talk of factions and gods. Her life was more simple, focusing only on the immediate needs and desires if the moment. To think that she has been caught up in something like this is daunting, but how can she escape it? Did she want to escape it?

The excitement, the companionship, the feeling of making a difference, albeit a small one. These things are gradually becoming her need and desire. Sipping at the thick ale and nibbling at a bit of bread, she tries to come to terms with the way the winds of life are taking her.

“You canne dip yer foot in th same stream twice.” She mutters. Only now do those words her Master used to say reveal their true meaning to her.

Starvale Adventures: A Prelude to Darkness – Chapter 25

Rowan levels her hand crossbow, taking a careful bead on the Grick’s head.  As it raises itself from biting at the comatose form of Tuskor, she squeezes the trigger and the bolt flashes out to catch the monster in the throat.  It falls, choking on its own black blood to thrash weakly on the floor.

Lanaver moves in with bravado, blades moving in tandem.  “Give up already, would ya?  We got you cornered and there’s no escape.”

“Take me if you can you bastard!”  Is his defiant reply.

Lanaver leaps to the attack with a flurry of stabs and feints, leading with his dagger before stabbing his rapier beneath the sergeant’s buckler, wounding him in the thigh.

Sebastian bends over Tuskor, applying a field medical kit to staunch the considerable bleeding and disinfect the disease ridden bites from the still twitching Grick. Sebastian looks up from his bloody work to meet the sergeant’s eye. “Vengeance has come upon your head, surrender or die!”

“To the Nine Hells with you, whoreson!” Spits the sergeant, hefting his shield once more and advancing on Sebastian. He makes a series of slashing cuts with his heavy broadsword and Sebastian’s arcane shield appears, deflecting the first but exploding into a shower of arcane sparks as the second slams through it and slashes him across the chest. “If I’m for the nine hells, I’m taking you peons with me!”

Tallisk strikes out at the sergeant with a wild blow from the side but he deflects the staff with his shield, smashing her weapon away hard enough that she stumbles backward, falling to catch herself awkwardly.  Even as she falls, her skirt flies in a fan shape as her slipper clad foot strikes out, narrowly missing the man’s chin.

Tuskor places his fingers on the earth, seeming to draw strength from it before rising to his feet. He pulls his tusk staff from his back whilst muttering his ancient words. As his staff begins to crack and splinter and become entwined with red veins so too does his face begin to become covered in red pulsating markings. He charges past Sebastian at the sergeant bringing the staff crashing towards the side of the man’s head with a mighty roar.

Tuskor’s mammoth staff crushes the sergeant’s nose knocking him down. His head splits open on the floor of the guard house and blood spills out into the dirty stone grooves. Rowan quickly moves to Villonah and frees her from the cage trying to calm her down. Once the Gnome girl realizes she’s safe, she swoons, her terror having been the only thing keeping her conscious.

A noise causes them to stop and look back where they came from.  An Elf stands before the door into the tunnel. She has an arrow drawn back to her ear, and trained on Rowan.

“Put the gnome down and leave. You will not take her anywhere and torture her more. There may be more of you, but some of you will not survive the fight if you try to take her.”

“Have ya no eyes in yer head fair Elf lass?” Tallisk says in a deceptively light tone, “We been doin a bit of rescuin sure an we have, an yer a bit late ta th party, though you’re much more welcome than this scum thenow.”

Rowan looks up in surprise. “We’ve just saved her from certain death, and are taking her back to her father. Join us if you will, but there will be no harm to her this night.”

Tallisk takes a pair of cigars from her belt pouch, lights then with a flick of flint and steel and passes one to Hajima. Blowing a perfect smoke ring, she grins at the elf. “If ya don’t believe us, just ask the gnome lass. If she is still… together enough to answer I’m certain she’ll tell ya of our good deeds.”

Lanaver looks at the Elf and speaks in the native tongue the Elves.  “Sister, I can promise you two things; we are leaving this forsaken place, my comrades and I, and the girl is coming with us. You can lower your weapon and leave too but if you keep pointing that thing at us I can’t guarantee your safety.  Just now we find ourselves a bit unwilling to trust strangers who threaten us.”

“Very well, I am satisfied.” she says, lowering her bow and loosening the string. “Let me take a look at her then we must be away. If only there was some way to destroy this fell place.” she spits.

“Oh… Well you should have said so in the first place,” Lanaver grins sheepishly.

“Forgive me, I did not think to find goodly folk here in this evil place.”  The Elf says, “My name is Ylivia, I’m a member of the Order of the Gauntlet and we’ve been fighting against the tyranny of the Starshield Guard.  We have been battling them for nearly a year now.”

“The reason they took me isn’t because I broke any laws.”  Villonah says weakly, “I stole a map purported to lead to the lair of a White Dragon in the mountains of the North.  I gave them a fake map, keeping the original in my boot.  We will use this to bring down the corrupt Guards and restore order to Starvale.”

Ylivia looks at them, offering a pouch of gold with a serious look of gratitude. “You have done a great service to the order and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for courageously rescuing my friend, Villonah.”

Sebastian’s brow furrows, “Would it be possible for us to have a copy of that map?”  He asks, “It could prove a vital asset in our own investigations of the Cult of the Dragon.  I would have a care as well, it seems that many folks are hunting for artifacts that are draconic in nature, The Silencers among them.  Simply possessing that map could lead to further trouble, especially if corrupt members of the Starshield Guard know that you have it.”

“I would willingly make a copy of the map for any member of the Order of the Gauntlet.”  Ylivia says, “However I cannot give such to an outsider without first consulting the people in my organization.  For now, I must see that it reaches my superior’s hands, I cannot transcribe it here and I would flee with Villonah,”

Lanaver purses his lips thoughtfully, “Villonah, your father is very worried about you. If you’ll not come back home with us, can you give us something to prove that you live and are away from these vile filth?”

The gnome pulls back her linen shift, showing a tattoo of a safflower on her upper right thigh and sings, “When windfalls way has wound the woods and willows weep their weary wails, I’ll whisk away your worries’ woe with Western winds to fill your sails.” Her smile is one of grief, but a small shimmer of a smile shines through. “He will know,” she says, staring out the tunnel.

Rowan steps forward, at first speaking hesitantly, but her voice strengthening as she finds her resolve. “I have studied the various factions and had not, until this moment, chosen one. I find myself approving of your methods.” She says, “Villonah’s capture and treatment made me pity her at first, but I find her courage and resolve to be a true inspiration. I will join your Order, and vow to aid in all ways that I can, if you will have me. Then, you may give me a copy of the map so that I and my friends may aid if needed.”

Starvale Adventures: A Prelude to Darkness – Chapter 24

Thanks to its stone camouflage, the Grick that was hiding in the southeast corner of the room has made its way around the rubble strewn about the dark room and, hanging from a stone wall, lashes out at Lanaver, who is attempting to free its dinner.

As Rowan stumbles away from the hideous creature the two nearest obelisks begin to glow and faintly hum before a pulse of magic energy is emitted into the room. Meanwhile, Hajima and Tallisk simultaneously hear the issuing forth of low wolf growl from within the southern room followed by excited barking and slavering.

The Grick surprises Rowan and Lanaver and writhes toward them. It attacks Lanaver, tentacles lashing out to strike him with terrible force, dragging him close as its beak snaps at the air in front of his face.

Rowan lets out a yelp and cringes away from the monster, diving behind a pile of rubble in a desperate attempt to put something between her and the tentacled horror.  She weaves magic and song together even as she rolls to a stop, unleashing a spell at the Grick, but feels the monster resist the effect.

Lanaver draws his rapier and stabs at the Grick’s snapping beak, the tip of his blade skittering off the hard bone with its serrated edges before biting deep into the soft flesh next to where the tentacles connect to its face.

Tuskor shouts a spell and the now familiar worms writhe up from the floor, wrapping tightly around the Grick and holding it in place.

Sebastian enters, casting a spell to ward Rowan from harm. “We have company from the other room and it sounds like they have a wolf!”

The Grick thrashes against its bonds, partially breaking free as it snaps and bites at Rowan, but the monster is unable to get close enough for its beak or tentacles to find purchase on her flesh.

Four guards bust out of the guard room yelling, “What’s going on in here? Which of you bastards wants a day in the funhouse?!”  They see Hajima standing there with a loaded crossbow. “Well well well, what have we got here? Get out here you lazy bastards we got a break in!”

The first of them levels a heavy crossbow at Hajima and curses as his bowstring snaps and the weapon misfires. A guard wielding a halberd moves around to flank Hajima and strikes him while his attention is on the man with the crossbow. The third guard is wielding a spear and shield, he moves out near the prisoners and hurls his spear at Tallisk.

Tallisk sways sideways at the last second as though drunk, the spear misses her narrowly burying into the wooden door frame she is standing near. The guard with the booming voice who is obviously their leader swings a broadsword at Hajima which misses. He then moves back into the room and unleashes the wolf.

Tallisk moves languidly to one side and back, almost falling but catching herself on the spear with her right, using it to pull herself back up to her feet. She stumbles a few steps forward, leaning heavily on her staff and seems to trip, flinging her left hand forward and causing her staff to glance off the guard’s shield.

He stumbles backward and she reels drunkenly forward, bringing her right foot down hard on the man’s instep. “Oh! Shorry.” She slurs, “I jusht wandered in from the shtreet…”

The scurrying of clawed feet on stone heralds the arrival of the trained wolf as it round the corner out of the guard room. It bares its teeth at Tallisk as she harries its master and attempts to bite her leg but she stumbles to one side and its teeth snap closed on the open air.

“Nish doggy, good puppy.”  Tallisk says, her voice warbling a drunken croon.

Hajima shifts about and strikes out at the guard with the halberd, taking him in the chest with his rapier. The guard spits a curse, “You’ll pay dearly for that, scum.”

Rowan ducks her head out from behind the stones she is hiding behind and hisses a sibilant and angry song towards the Grick. The monster reels in mental agony from the bard’s spell, and Rowan ducks back behind the stones, noting that her magic has more of an effect on the Grick than her allies’ non-magical weapons do.

Rowan shouts at the top of her lungs, “Use magic if you have it!!!”

“Why’d we give that tooth back!?”  Lanaver growls, leaving the cage and drawing a dagger into his off hand. He dashes behind Rowan and past Tuskor, building momentum as he nears Tallisk. He engages the wolf harassing the monk with both blades driving toward what he hopes are vital organs.  The wolf yelps and slumps down to the stone floor.

Sebastian hurls a ray of frost at the Grick. Screams erupt from its beak as its reptilian form is blasted with ice. Sebastian stands tall next to Rowan, knowing that should his blade ward fail his healing art should keep his Halfling companion alive.

Tuskor grimaces at the death of the wolf, hating to see any woodland creature brought low thus. As the last breath leaves the dying wolf Tuskor places his tusk staff onto his back. His eyes roll up into his head leaving them pupil-less and a transformation begins. The staff begins to melt into Tuskor’s back and the end lingers like a tail.

Suddenly with a crunch Tuskor’s knees snap backwards and he falls to his hands, or rather the paws that sit where he hands should be. His already massive grey man grows longer, encompassing his entire body and with a scream of rage his face thrusts outwards becoming lupine in shape. The scream turns into a howl and left where Tuskor once stood is a mighty grey wolf.

Racing to the still entangled Grick, Tuskor snarls and lunges, trying to sink his new teeth into the monster. In spite of its restraints, the thing’s hide resists the wolf’s attempt to savage it.

The Grick busts free of its entanglement with a strong effort. It moves up to menace Sebastian, tentacles writhing and mouth snapping with hunger.

The guard sergeant emerges and swings his bastard sword at Hajima. He roars in anger when the other deftly blocks the blow on a leather bracer and prompts his companions to fight harder.  “Come on you worthless cowards, kill these bastards!”

The guard with the halberd swings it at Hajima, taking advantage of the opening his leader had made.  The blow strikes deep his side, sliding beneath the arm that is still raised, blocking the bastard sword blow.

Another guard fires his crossbow at Tallisk.  The girl twitches her head sideways and the bolt grazes her ear, slicing a few locks of her bright red hair as it flashes past.

“HEY!”  Tallisk shouts, “Watch th hair ya shithead!”  She spins and smashes the halberd wielding guard in the gut with her staff and then brings her knee up into his nose with a sickening crunch when he doubles over in pain.  The man falls, twitching to the ground and she prods him with a toe.

“Ah… are ya OK laddie?”  She asks, but she’s not putting much of an effort into her usual deception.  The satisfied smile on her lips doesn’t help matters.

Hajima holds his side, gasping in pain “Medic!”  He throws a grateful look at Tallisk whose attack has allowed him to retreat from the thick of the battle.

Sebastian calls out “By Clangedins’ beard this things breath smells like the nine hells! I’m coming Hajima, hold on!”  Sebastian hears the cry for help from Hajima, but the Grick blocks his way.

Rowan plays a rill on her flute and lights begin to flash in front of the monster’s face, but although it shies away from the dancing lights it is too hungry to stop be distracted from its intended meal.  As it continues to attack Sebastian and Tuskor, Rowan finds some rubble to hide behind.

Lanaver backs away from the guards, blood flowing liberally from his wounds and shouts to Sebastian, “Doc, ya better patch me up quick!  Seems like there’s more a this red stuff outside me than in!”

Tuskor, still in wolf form, savages the Grick with his jaws, growling in defiance and rage.  Sebastian tosses Lanaver a healing potion then proceeds to blast the Grick with another burst of frosty magic and it screeches loudly in anguish. Even as it thrashes in its death throes, it rears up and tentacle attacks Tuskor, ripping into the Druid’s wolf hide.

The guard sergeant swings his broadsword at Hajima who desperately parries the attack with his rapier.  The crossbowman drops his crossbow and advances on Hajima, drawing an axe and swinging it at him in a series of wide strikes. Somehow Hajima parries and dodges the attacks, backing up until he runs into the wall; safe from injury for now but surrounded by enemies.

His breath comes in short gasps, and he uses his martial discipline to force his body to stop bleeding through sheer force of will.  “You can’t kill me that easily you bastards.”  He grates between clenched teeth.

Rowan pulls out her hand crossbow, seeking to put an end to the wounded Grick, but her shot goes wide, clattering against the stone wall.

Lanaver moves toward the axe man with renewed vigor, flanking him. He circles around toward Hajima, vying for an advantage and supporting his comrade.  There! He spies an opening in the man’s defenses and leaps to the attack.

“Die you bastard!”  Lanaver cries, leaping forward and stabbing his dagger deep into axe man’s back.  The guard falls to his knees, dropping his gore splattered axe. Lanaver grasps the man by the throat and with a single efficient movement, slashes the man’s throat from ear to ear.

Sebastian draws Hajima back from the attacking enemies, using the hole in the action that Lanaver’s brutal slaying of the axe wielding guard created.  He quickly slaps field bandages on his wounds.  “Damn damn damn!”  He curses, unable to contain his worry for his friend and for their situation.

Tuskor relentlessly pursues the Grick, his claws scraping against the cold stone floor as he attempts once again to bring the foul creature down. The wolf whines in consternation as the Grick eludes his lupine form, weakly sliding away from his snapping jaws.

The monster turns on him and manages to latch onto him with a tentacle, dragging him forward and sinking its beak into his flank.  The effort causes it to shudder, leaking foul smelling ichor but in a show of terrible, unnatural stamina it continues to fight.  With a yelp Tuskor is knocked out of his wolf form and lies unmoving face down on the ground.

The sergeant moves in on Hajima as Sebastian is attempting to patch him up. He grins an evil grin, stabbing the prone man in the gut.  He twists his blade as he removes it, leaving Hajima gasping in pain and bleeding profusely.

Spurred on by his leader’s brutal attack, the other guard swings his axe, cutting into Lanaver’s side.  The crunch of splintering ribs and Lanaver’s cry of pain are overshadowed by the guard’s shout of triumph.

Tallisk watches in horror as her new friends endure grievous wounds in defense of her and their young charge. Summoning the inner strength and power her Master had drilled into her over long hours of practice, she springs into action. Her quarterstaff becomes a humming blur of motion, the iron bands on either end causing it to whistle as it tears through the air to strike the axe man on the back of the head with the rebound, she brings an elbow into his face.

The man falls and Tallisk appears to stumble over him, treading heavily on his neck in the process.  “Ohmygosh, are ya ok?”  She asks, her voice dripping with false sincerity.  She stumbles toward the Sergeant, at the last minute swinging a shin in a low arc that connects with considerable force on the back of his knees.

Sebastian stares in amazement, they had seen Tallisk fight before, but never like this.  That sudden, deadly explosion of attacks banished any doubts he had about her abilities.  No matter her soft and plump appearance, she had obviously made the dealing physical violence one of her life’s greatest passions.

Starvale Adventures: A Prelude to Darkness – Chapter 23

This room contains eight cells, five currently occupied by prisoners who start begging to be released as they enter. A door to the east is barred from this side, and there is also a door on the south wall. A stone chair is bolted to the floor in the room’s center, and interrogation instruments hang from the walls.

“Shhh” Rowan says, while using her hands in a pushing motion to try to get them to be quiet. She looks around for keys to the cells.

Sebastian also implores them to be quiet.  “If you alert the guards we can’t help any of you.  Hold your tongues and we’ll get you out as quickly as we can.

“Ohhh akushla, my heart bleeds fer ya.” Tallisk murmurs, looking at the nearest, “Are there guards? Do they come often? By the Hag’s teeth I ain’t leavin here without all of ya.”

Rowan is calmly and quietly continuing to reassure the prisoners, she also asks quietly, “Villonah, are you here?” While peering into the cells and trying to open the doors.

The prisoners quiet down for the moment, their cries stifled to sobs and whimpers.  After a brief inspection, they see that female gnome is not among them. Of the five prisoners here, four are in terrible condition from starvation and dehydration. They can walk on their own, but they are in no condition to fight.  Two only have one ear.  The last prisoner appears mad, having been driven insane by his long confinement and exposure.

Rowan continues trying to open the doors while saying quietly. “Where is the gnome girl? Where did they take her?”

“Promise to free us and I will tell you.” One of the prisoners with a missing ear says.

Rowan’s face is full of pity and fear as she notices the madness in the eyes of the murderous soul in the fifth cell. She turns to her friends. “I think the honest guards must deal with this one. Freeing him would be a mistake.” She turns her still sad face too, “What have you done that you are here? None deserve this hidden place, but …” and she trails off, not quite sure how to proceed.

“We’ll find her with or without you,” Lanaver sneers, recognizing the missing ears as a sign of membership in The Silencers.  “But no one is leaving until we do, and I’m going nowhere with that barmy sod,” He points at the homicidal prisoner.

Tallisk is shocked at the expression of disdain from Lanaver. How could he not feel compassion for these poor lost souls? Remembering their mission, she concentrates in the task at hand with effort.  Seeing that Rowan has the discussions in hand and unable to continue to stare at prisoners she is unable to free, Tallisk turns to look at the other doors. Since Lanaver is at one, she heads to the other, listening.

Sebastian is sure the madman is truly unbalanced and likely dangerous, loosing him on the city would put innocent blood on their hands.  “Free all but the one that is mad. We will come back for him.”

Lanaver hears the sound of murmured human speech and the rolling of bone dice.  He tries to find a place to peek through the door to the other side, but the door fits the frame well and there is no keyhole on this side.

The two men call out, thanking Sebastian, calling him a hero. The two Silencers are tight lipped. They take your help and leave immediately. After pointing to the eastern door saying, “She’s in the funhouse”. The mad man slams himself against the bars like a caged animal but is not overly loud for now.

At the man’s proclamation that the girl is behind her door, Tallisk struggles to lift the bar.

“Should have let those Silencers rot Sebastian… Remember they and theirs tried to kill us for that fake egg…”

Lanaver watches Tallisk at the eastern door.  “He’s probably lying you know…”

“Well, hopefully they will spread word that we are the heroes to all. Even Silencers don’t deserve torture. ”

Wondering what a Silencer is, Tallisk lifts the bar with straining muscles and leans it in the rack beside the door, grunting in a most unladylike fashion.  The chamber was once grand but is now in shambles. The walls have collapsed in and given way to earth. An obelisk stands in the middle of the room, covered in sigils. A cage has been erected in the middle of the room surrounded by a number of peculiar obelisks made of black stone. Within the cage, a young gnome woman dressed in a simple gray tunic sits on the floor with her back to the obelisk.

She rocks back and forth with her head in her hands, saying the same thing over and over in a mad whisper, “Can’t run away. Can’t run away.”

Tallisk looks at Rowan with a clear question on her face. This looks like magic. This looks out of her league.  “Villonah?” She says, trying to keep her voice steady. “Yer da asked us ta help ya out lass.  We’re here ta get ya otta this place.”

Rowan looks on with deep pity in her eyes. “Lanaver, is it safe?”  She begins to quietly sing a song of courage and strength. Her words and melody are tuned to encourage Villonah, and reassure her that she’ll be ok.

In spite of her magic and her songs reaching out, Villonah doesn’t seem to hear Rowan’s words, but instead continues rocking back and forth.  The same phrase coming out between her lips as though it’s a charm that could save her from death.

“It’s some kind of magic for sure but I’ll check for anything physical,” Lanaver says to Rowan in a hushed tone.

Sebastian can tell that the pillars contain some old enchantment magic.  This is an undercroft of the of Lyceum of The Black Lord though, so chances are the obelisk will not be pleasant. It is so old and worn it is hard to discern what it does.

“It’s OK, lass yer safe now.” Tallisk says, then glances at Rowan and mutters under her breath, “Ahh… it is safe innit?”

Hajima stands near the door to the guards. “Pending any warning of sinister magic from Rowan or Sebastian, maybe Lanaver can sneak in there, pick the lock on her cage, and bring her out. I’ll cover this door with Tallisk in case we have unwelcome visitors.” He then opens his wooden case and removes his massive crossbow, locking the arms into position and loading a deadly bolt.

“Good thinking you two.”  Lanaver says, “And I’ll happily unlock the girl’s cage just as soon as I know it’s okay for me to step past those obelisks.”

“Them things’r th problem?” Tallisk gestures at one of the obelisks, “Maybe I break em? Would that help? Ain’t no way we cn let th girl be subjected ta this fer another moment!  She’s just a girl…” Her voice to trails off, and she turns away for a moment.  “I ain’t gonna allow it.” The steel is back now, harder than before, but more brittle. “Get ‘er out or I will.”

“Lanaver, Tallisk is right. We must get her out of here.”  Rowan says, “Can you tell if there are pitfalls for us in this room? Can you tell if it’s safe?”

“Can’t run away, can’t run away.”  Villonah’s voice continues, hopeless and terror stricken.

Hajima looks back over from his position at the door to the guard room. “If we don’t have any clear reason to avoid that room, then we’re going to have to risk it. One of these guards is going to come out here any minute. We can’t delay much longer. Either Lanaver sneaks in, or Tallisk breaks in. Which is it?”

“Tyche bless me, I’ll do it!”  Lanaver says, slinking into the room.

Hajima nods at Lanaver, respecting him for his bravery. “Good luck, my friend. We’ll watch your back and be ready to jump in if there’s any sign of trouble.”

Rowan touches Lanaver’s arm as he passes and says, “I am right behind you my brother.” Her magic flows from her hand, giving him confidence and skill.  She lets him get a few steps in and then follows, looking around for danger.

Hajima keeps his ear close to the door to the guards, listening for any sign of approach, while also keeping an eye on the progress of Lanaver and Rowan into the obelisk chamber. “Sebastian, be ready to help them with your spells if they should fall prey to foul magic. Tallisk, be ready to help me with these guards if any kind of alarm goes off when they reach the cage.”

The wood elf takes a deep breath to steady himself before approaching the cage, muttering to himself under his breath.  “It’s just a lock… A lock on a cage… A cage surrounded by creepy pillars… Under the temple of an evil god… Who you hope is dead… It’s just a lock.”

Starvale Adventures: A Prelude to Darkness – Chapter 22

“The boy said this prison was located beneath the ruins of the Black Lord’s Lyceum.  It was, as you probably know, burned down years ago by that angry mob and since then has been rebuilt as, of all things, a shelter for the homeless.”  Rillo says, “The rumor is they’ve found some sort of secret chambers beneath it.  If my calculations of the subterranean caverns about are correct, I believe there’s an entrance just on the outskirts of town near the Stojanow river.

“I can’t rescue her myself, but, I can pay you!  I have some gold and I will throw in some trade goods also.  I am a skilled craftsman, even if I am not a warrior.”  He dissolves into tears again, “Or apparently much of a father.”

Rowan looks around at her friends, still recovering from her shock at Tallisk’s outburst and her emotional response to Rillo’s story.  “It sounds like your daughter is in way over her head. We will do our best for you.”

Sebastian looks curious at this proposition. He has a love of the law and aiding a law breaker goes against the grain of his moral fiber.  The brazen abuse of women and children, however, is a far worse offense to his sensibilities.  Showing no outward response to either Tallisk’s anger or Rowan’s concern, he merely nods in agreement to the red haired Halfling’s offer of assistance.

Rowan seems extremely troubled, and her usually sunny expression is now one of furrowed brows and downturned lips. “If this place truly exists, this goes far beyond the life of one troubled girl. This corruption is a blight on all of Starvale, when under disguise of law, a rogue group of guards can torture and kill without any to stop, or even know of them.” She looks at her friends, a look of determination on her face. “I will get my things.”

Hajima nods as Rowan leaves and also shares a look with Sebastian, his new faction-brother. “I agree with both of you in this matter. Although helping a troubled girl get out of jail who rightly put herself there in the first place is not as heroic as our previous missions, Rowan is right too. This is bigger than one girl. This is corruption at its worst and an abuse of power that cannot go unpunished. Our primary objective should be to shut this place down, especially since the authority of the Starshield Guard has now come into question. If we can retrieve the girl too, then we shall do so.”

Hajima turns to Lanaver. “Your idea is also sound. Doing some background checks on this situation through our new resources, before rushing in blindly, is necessary for formulating our strategy. I will go immediately to the Lords Alliance to see what we can learn from them.” With that, he goes upstairs to grab his things. As always, his long coat conceals his rapier, and the long wooden case is always at his side. He puts on his wide-brimmed hat with a parting nod and heads out the door.

“Honestly I could probably spring our little jail bird myself, but if I’m caught, well… You all always come through in a pinch.” Lanaver grins.

Tuskor has been listening intently from his table where he sits alone; staring at the small vase which holds a single wilting flower in the center of the table. Between trying to fathom why these town folk appear to enjoy displaying death on their dining areas and overhearing the gnome’s plight he finally has heard enough. He rises from his stool.

“The crimes of your daughter may warrant punishment, but not at the hands of such despicable sounding ne’er do wells”. He turns to Sebastian, “I have not been in the place, but have passed by that way on my crossings of the river. Though it does indeed lay in ruin; the remnants of the evil done there has left its mark on the land…and maybe the evil is still being done. We should leave immediately”

She goes upstairs and changes out of her performance clothing, donning her leather armor and strapping on her weapons and other things. She takes a deep breath and returns downstairs to the others, nimbly braiding her hair up and away from her face in a complicated braid.

Sebastian catches himself staring at Rowan as she returns downstairs. The passion in her eyes, the way the leather armor fits snug to her form or maybe it’s the red in her braids or the sweet melody of her voice. Whatever it is, Sebastian is distracted and purposefully redirects his mind to the task at hand.

Brother Keefe tells Hajima he does not know anything about this but says those within the Starshield Guard who are members of the Lord’s alliance would be thankful for the uncovering and destruction of this unlawful cohort.

“I agree, sir. The more we delay the more harm may come to her. Hopefully between Tuskor’s knowledge, and what this good gnome has told us, we can find the entrance and see what is going on.” She looks kindly at the gnome. “Hopefully we can bring her back to you, and perhaps this terrible experience will help her get back on the right track. If not, I will speak with her myself and see if I can’t help her understand that she is walking a dark road.” She softly pats him on the arm. “Try not to worry. My friends are very strong and courageous. We will do our best for you.”

He offers Hajima a bullseye lantern saying, the halls underneath the lyceum of the black lord are dark indeed, may this light guide you to life if it is your destiny or death, if it is your time.

“I dinne care what she done.” Tallisk takes a deep breath, steadying herself with visible effort. “Ain’t any child should be subjected ta th no so tender attention a th slenderman. Jest point me at ‘em it’ll be a pleasure dealin with ‘em sure.” She flexes her fingers, knuckles popping in a manner that doesn’t fit with her soft curves and plump physique at all.

“Slender man?”  Rowan asks, looking at her with innocent curiosity.  “What’s a slender man?”

Tallisk shudders, unconsciously touching her upper arms. “Never ya mind lil lass.  Some things ain’t comforting ta know an yer a mite tender fer this.”

“Oh I’m not as thin skinned as you might think.”  Rowan says softly, crossing her arms.

“Slenderman’s one what cuts answers otta anyone fer money.”  Tallisk says, her voice losing some of its charming lilt.  “Ain’t gotta be a man but usually is.  I’ve had a run in or two with ‘em.  Ended badly.”

Rowan’s face pales in horror and then her brow creases in sympathy.  “Oh Tallisk, I’m so sorry, I had no idea…”

“Ain’t nothin.”  Tallisk says, reflexively touching her biceps again.  She hefts her sturdy ash wood quarterstaff.  “Let’s go an get th girl.”

Face grim with determination, Rowan heads out into the night. “So, on to the caves to the secret entrance, then? Do you think we can find the entrance in the dark? I have no experience with secret doors.” She smiles briefly at her friends. “Between us all, though, I bet we can figure it out!”

“Remember friend, I can see in the dark and secret doors are a specialty of mine,” Lanaver says with a jaunty grin.

Rowan smiles widely at her friend and adopted brother. “Excellent!” Her stride takes on a perkier aspect as she fantasizes about rushing to the rescue of a young person in distress. “This will likely make an excellent song,” She whispers and quite unconsciously, she begins to softly hum to herself.

Hajima taps the wrapped package he now carries. “Once our silent friend moves on ahead to scout his way in the darkness, I will light this lantern. It will reveal only a small beam of light which should help us stay as hidden as we can.”

Sebastian who is quite dexterous attempts to move quickly yet quietly along with his friends.

Either unaware of the need for stealth or too angry to try, Tallisk strides purposefully out the door and down the street, her staff thumping on the cobblestones.

Lanaver glares at Tallisk and places his finger on his lips.  “Shhh!”

Tallisk glances around and seems to notice what she’s doing. Shaking her head in chagrin, she slips into a shadow and almost seems to meld with it.

Rillo leads them to the secret entrance, which is simply a stout door in the cliff face where the river emerges from under Starvale.  Beyond that door are the tunnels that lead to the secret chambers beneath the ruined Lyceum.

“I must leave you here.”  Rillo says, “I would only slow you down I fear.” The stonework around the door is well crafted, unlike the rudimentary tunnel.

Tallisk leans forward, trying the door and then carefully listening at the keyhole.  After a moment, she backs away and speaks in a low voice to her companions “Th door’s locked but I cn hear sommat inside. If ya canne pick th lock we’ll have ta force it.”

Rowan whistles softly to herself, summoning a magic light in the form of a wispy humanoid shape and have it drift near the lock so that others can examine it for traps and employ lock picks.

Tallisk jumps at the sudden appearance of a glowing ghost and only barely manages to keep a squeak of alarm from escaping her lips. Seeing Rowan’s look of concentration, she calms her thundering pulse, understanding that this is more of that mysterious arcana at work.

Sebastian suppresses a smirk when Tallisk jumps. He is confident of Lanaver and his way with locks. He will ready himself in case combat begins.

Rowan glances at Tallisk when she jumps and silently mouths ‘Sorry’ and shrugs her shoulders sheepishly. She’s gotten used to her friend’s easy acceptance of magical power, and realizes she’d best be more aware of the new woman. It wouldn’t do to startle her into giving us away. She gestures at the ghostly light, and then she smiles widely and directs the dancing light form in such a way that it makes a slow and graceful bow to Tallisk. She bows in concert with the form, attempting to make it clear that she controls the form. She smiles with delight at her little gesture, hoping her new acquaintance will enjoy, or at least relax around her magical power.

Hajima turns to Lanaver. “Can you open this lock without making any noise?”

Lanaver nods and reaches into his pack and produces his thieves’ tools.  “Give me just a tick.”  He whispers, coaxing the lock to open with a few deft movements.

With a grave expression on her face, Tallisk performs an elaborate courtly curtsy to the ghost, wondering at the powers she has become entwined with. Is this some spirit of light? A Prince long dead? A captured soul? Remembering that there are the lives and virtue of children at stake, she steels herself, hoping that they can sneak and out before anyone notices and then call the guards.

 

Starvale Adventures: A Prelude to Darkness – Chapter 21

A few days later as the sun finally sets in the west, everyone is settling down for one last beverage. Whittlee, one of Freia’s daughters, sees to the late-night crowd. Her startlingly white hair is pulled back in a tight braid. She expertly serves pots of tea, tankards of ale, flagons of wine, and other assorted mugs and cups to Rowan’s raucous playing.

The door to the Boiling Kettle opens, revealing a worried-looking gnome. He wears patchwork clothes and wrings a floppy hat nervously in his calloused hands. He peers around the room pensively, until his eyes focus on the table where Sebastian, Tallisk, Hajima and Tuskor are sitting. He quickly walks toward them, ignoring the stares and whispered jibes from some of the other patrons.

“Are you adventurers? My little girl is in terrible trouble. Will you hear my story? I can pay!”

Tallisk’s ears prick up at the magic word ‘pay’ and she turns from where she was trying to teach Blaizette how to make twin circles with juggling balls, an easy smile on her freckled face. “Come now fella me lad, pull up a chair an tell us a yer woes. Mayhap we can be a some small assistance.

“Whittlee cn you get this young gentleman a drink? One last one fer me also of ya’d be so kind.” Tallisk says with a wave and a grin.

“That’ll be on your tab I assume?” The Halfling maid asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Nay, tonight I can pay!” She says extravagantly, handing over a handful of copper coins from tips she got while juggling during Rowan’s performance, far more than the price of a couple of drinks but not nearly enough to cover her extensive tab.

Mollified, the white haired halfing maid makes her way to fetch the libations and Tallisk turns toward the gnome, lighting a cigar.  “Now then, boyo why don’t ya tell us what we cn do fer ya?”

It’s been a particularly long set, and Rowan begins to think that it’s time to wind things down. She sees the worried little gnome enter the tavern. Strange to see such a one arrive so late, and when she sees him look around and head to join her friends, a thrill of excitement and concern goes through her. She strums a few more bars and ends her song, gently putting her cittern away. Scattered groans of disappointment mingle with claps of appreciation.

Rowan bows extravagantly, “Thank you all, for an excellent night! For now, I need a little food and a little drink.” Smiles to herself at the friendly banter with the crowd. She truly does feel at home here. Still smiling, she grabs a seat at her friend’s table. “Greetings, gentle sir. You look like you can use our help.”

Sebastian is nursing his clay mug of hard liquor. He is seen writing down his impressions of the blue Dragon dagger.  He has also been working with a coil of knotted silk rope, practicing some kind of magic with it. It will uncoil itself and rise into the air. Once the length of is perpendicular to the floor it stops moving. However, when Sebastian tests how well it is anchored to its invisible tether it seems to continually pull free.  Instead of seeming to be frustrated it appears Sebastian is methodical in his approach and each time he tries he seems to take copious detail oriented notes.

Sebastian obviously missed the beginning of the Gnomes story speaks up. “Rowan, who’s this guy? A friend of yours? Can I buy you a drink my good sir. It appears you may need it.”

“Hi Sebastian,” Rowan smiles up at her friend. “Apparently this good gentle needs help for his daughter, but that’s all I know.” She turns back to the gnome, “How can we help you, then?”

Hajima sits back in his chair, enjoying the fine cigar and a pint of cool Dwarven ale. A week of guard duty and extra hours in the sparring ring and the shooting range with his fellow Lords Alliance brothers have left him stiff and sore. He feels good though. Better than he has in a long time.

He belongs somewhere again. He has friends that he can depend on when things get tough. And they depend on him. His life has meaning. His skills have a purpose. He smiles to himself and takes a long drag on the cigar again. He reminds himself find out where Tallisk gets these things.

His mind sharpens, fighting away the mildly narcotic fog of the cigar as he leans forward to address the gnome. “We will certainly help you. Just tell us what happened and where she is now. We’ll handle the rest.”

“I am Rillo.  Rillo Leadstopper.  It’s my daughter you see… Villonah.”  He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye with a rag that leaves a dark smear behind, “Her mother died last year and my little Villonah went wild with grief.  She ran off with that worthless Rak and has been running from the Starshield Guard ever since.

“Most of her crimes were just minor offenses.”  Rillo continues, “I paid her fines and she had to spend some time in jail, but last night she was taken!  The Starshield guard came to our home, clapped her in manacles and led her off without even bothering to charge her with a crime!

“I went to the castle to attempt to pay her fines and secure her release but they told me she wasn’t there.  I went to the lower street jail and they didn’t have a record of her either.”  He says, his voice rising as he recounts his tale.  “I called in every favor I had bribing guards and talking to cutpurses in seedy parts of town but nobody knew anything.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.  “At my wits end, I was sitting on a curb in a not so good part of town when I was approached by a street urchin who told me he might have some information if I had some silver.  I gave him gold and he told me that there was a … secret prison.  A place where a small group of the Starshield Guards take prisoners for unsavory things.  Torture.  Rape.  Murder.  Things they don’t want their superiors to know about.”

Rillo’s voice breaks, “He told me that my daughter had stolen from them and had been taken there.  Please, I’ll give you everything I have just to get my little Villonah back.”

Tallisk leans forward, slapping a fist down hard on the table, her relaxed cheer evaporating like morning most. “Give me the location, if you have it or else the names of those who have provided you with this information.”

Suddenly realizing that she has broken character, she tosses her flaming hair back over her shoulder and pretends not to notice the dainty fist shaped dent in the table. She quickly slides a platter holding salt and spices over it, but not before it is obvious to anyone watching.

“Ah that is th more information ya give us th more likely it’ll be tha we cn help yer girl.  Ye ken?”  She says, her former rage only present in the flat jade of her eyes.  Taking a deep drag on her cigar, she visibly relaxes, or forces herself to seem more relaxed at any rate.

Looking guiltily around, she blushes, a slave to her complexion. “I dinne take th harmin’ a children light like.” She mumbles, looking down. Her hair tumbles over her face, but her green eyes still flash with anger behind the auburn curtain.