Chapter 23: Hastur's quest

The cork popped off the flask and its dark amber colored contents burned its way down the half elf's throat. Notes of cloves, allspice, and orange peel laid on the mages tongue as she sealed the flask once again. The burn of the strong drink didn't help last night's binge, but as long as she was feeling numb, she felt better. Dark bags hung under her eyes. Her usual cheerful demeanor soured into constant scowl. She rested a hand on her rapier and in her other held onto a thin rope leash tied gently to her little furry companion.

"Where are we going?" She said slipping the flask into her satchel.

"To cheer you up so you're not such a moody bitch." Sighed the ranger leading her to some unknown back alley corridor. The man walked with his usual swagger and looked about the walls. All the brick and daub walls looked the same in this district. But there was something he was looking for. A certain marking.

Thaelin stopped in front of a service door that had a small green rune carved near the door handle.

"Here we are…"

The man looked back at his partner who was feigned interest and took another swig from the flask. He gave seven rhythmic strikes to the door before the sound of something slid across a wood floor and a small peep hole snapped open.

"Oi! What's the password?" came a high-pitched voice from the dark room

"Agorwch y drws, chi fygythiad bach." Answered the ranger

Several locks unbolted along the frame of the door and the door creaked open enough for the ranger and mage to slide through. It slammed shut behind them and a small halfling scurried about leaning a small crosbow against the door ans started securing the door once more.

"This way." Beckoned the little halfling as the little guide led the two through a few doorways. An aura of shady dealings radiated off this 'business'. Hastur kept a tight hold of Freki's leash. Getting the little puppy lost in here would surely spell disaster.

After a few twists and turns they came to a lantern lit room filled with a vast collection of oddities and obscure items. The walls were lined with bookshelves and small pigeon cubbies stocked with scrolls. A center post hung two candle lanters near the ceiling. The halfling climbed up into an elevated chair and went back to work dipping a feather quill and writing.

Hastur marveled at the sight of a device with several magnifying lenses on the counter placed next to a red crystal. This device would make a fine addition to her alchemy table back at the apartment. Freki's nose sniffed around the floor. A thick layer of dust and dirt made it hard to discern certain smells.

The small almond shaped eyes of the halfling watched the cleric browse the shelves. He smirked as she seemed to inspect the mechanical devises set about.

The bookkeep scribbled a few notes down before addressing his customer "What brings ya to me this time, meddwyn?" he snickered.

"My friend here needs a side quest. Got anything in stock?" the man said leaning against the counter. "Fetch quest if ya got one."

"Hmm…" the halfling scratched at a balding spot in his little head. "Maybe?" the clerk hopped off his chair and walked around the room eyeing the length of the shelves. "Difficulty level?"

Thaelin gave a quick glance at Hastur trying to make a good judgement call "Adept." He assessed

"Special interest?"

"Elven…"

Hastur's ears perked up under her hood.

"Ooh!" Lamented the clerk as he honed in on a shelf tucked near the eastern corner "I might have something." The little man went to retrieve a step ladder and climbed up to grasp a faded brown scroll. "Elven relics are a prized item in the south. Even a spoon is worth its weight in silver. Lets see here. Somewhere I have something…"

The halfling man plucked an aged scroll from its spot and unfurled it for the duo to see.

"Ah Here it is."

Hastur rubbed her dreary eyes to look at the etchings on the parchment. Spiral stalks of barley decorated the edges. Detailed depictions of the land were drawn with much skill and precise degree. Small wedges marked the locale of the Anvil mountain range to the northwest. There was no markings of Hayak on the map. Indicating exactly how old this text truly was. A small 'x' marked a location named near the base of the mountain. The halfling tapped a finger against the spot. "Right there."

"Pine Cairn…" noted Hastur. The ink was a bit faded from age, but she could still make out the lettering with success.

The halfling smirked at the hooded cleric. "You can read Elvish? That's a rare skill."

"Yes…I-uh…work in the libraries at the Monastery. As a translator." Added the cleric. She lowered her head in an attempt to try and make her half breed features hidden

The halfling nodded with a wolf's grin. He rolled up the scroll once again and pointed it at the ranger. "Is it a deal?"

"What do you think Hast? This is your quest." Shrugged the man

"Sure, lets do it."

Just as the mage reached for the scroll, the bookkeep tilted the paper tube back towards him "Ah, ah, you know the rules. What do you have to offer, huntsman?"

Thaelin sneered at the shrewish man. He leaned in close and placed a hand over his mouth. The clerk gleefully placed his ear near and delighted in the exchange

'I got word that the city guard are going to crack down on the Sugar Moss stills in a few days. Your 'contacts' will be needing this information.'

The clerk smiled softly at the news and followed the duo out.

Hastur unfurled the map to the North. She scanned the geography of the map. Guessing as to where they currently were it would take a day's travel by foot to reach the location. And who knows how long to find the cairn once they arrive.

By evening Thaelin, Hastur and Freki made a small camp not far off the North Road. The crackle of a small fire blazed between the two adventurers. The mage lounged on her bedroll with Freki curled up beside her. She took one final tug from the flask before corking it and shook its contents.

"I'm almost out of rum…"

"Ya know, a little edge suits you." Laughed Thaelin stretching his hand out for the flask

The half elf reluctantly parted with it and laid flat on her back. Her vision woozy from a day and night of constant drinking. She reached over to Freki, and pet his soft coat of fur

"Freki, promise me you wont leave me?"

The ranger rolled his eyes at the sorrowful sight. "That boy must have dumped you hard, for turning into this big of a mess."

Hastur turned her head and glared at Thaelin's face over the small flames of their fire. "He was such a nice guy too."

"Let me guess." The ranger softened his voice to a feminine mockery as he continued "He was the most handsomest young knight-errant I ever saw. I knew that we were destined to be together forever. We could even make cute little elf babies."

"Piss off!" Scoffed the cleric rolling over onto her side away from the heckler

The man scratched at his beard as he sensed he went a bit far with his teasing "What was his name?"

She didn't reply. But before Thaelin took another gulp from his rum flask, he faintly heard an answer. Spoken as softly as if by a mouse "Milos."

"What kind of name is Milos? Sounds like some kind of 'fancy-lad' from the South." He said with a chuckle

Hastur rolled back around and gave a light smile at his jest. "H-he was a bookbinder from Esolban"

"Of course he was." Thaelin added dryly "You must have been desperate if you wanted to fuck a quill-dipper from the South." the ranger fell backwards in laughter.

"Asshole! I will have you know I can get laid just as easily as you can!"

In choking laughter, Thaelin wiped a tear from his eye and struggled to keep his composure "I highly doubt that."

Hastur's face blushed and contorted into a grimace. She pointed a finger at the small fire between them she whispered some arcane words and the flame spouted into an inferno.

"HOLY SHIT!" Thaelin yelled jumping back swatting the tiny embers around them before they had a chance to ignite him and his knapsack. The man cursed as he paced around and took a seat when the flames died down to its previous size. He expected an apology, but reminded himself he was in the wrong.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I'm an asshole. And that was an asshole thing to say.-"

"It was. And you are." she interrupted with a matter of fact

"Now how about we keep it civil before we burn down this forest. Thaelin paused trying to think of something to say. Something that wont get him ignited on fire again.

"Wanna tell me about him? I mean if you still aren't happy after this quest, I gotta know who I'm looking for so you can uh-" rather than finish his sentence he extended his index and middle finger and open and closed them to mimic a pair of sheers.

Hastur chuckled at the gesture. Her mind wandered in memory to her former admirer "His hair was as yellow as straw. Wide eyes like two moons. He had a square cut jaw, barrel chested, and his hands were firm, yet soft."

"How come I never met him? It's like somehow this guy just appeared out of nowhere. "

"Hate to break it to you Thaelin, but you are the last person I want to introduce to my friends."

The two shared a good laugh and paused to take in the stillness of the night and to add more branches to the fire. Thelin laid down onto his bedroll and let out a grunted sigh as his back got use to the stiff dirt floor. Hastur watched as Freki's little legs kicked as he slept. She gently rubbed the pups flank and smiled at his adorable sleeping pose. In just the week that she had brought him back from the Kessier Forest, Freki had seemed to acclimate to the city with ease. He headed her instruction well, and with his 'potty training' he would be a fine addition to their team. When she stroked the back of the dog's neck, she remembered his man-handling by the brute in Kessier Village. And those words spoken.

"Hey Thaelin"

The man replied with a grunt, undiscerning if it signified he wasn't asleep or not. But she took it as a sign that he was awake

"Whats a Misfit? Back in Kessier you promised you would tell me if you survived the werewolf.

"I did?"

"Yes. So, What is it? Were you in a street gang or a ranger's guid?"

The ranger's yawn turned into a chuckle "Nope. Remember when I told you about Varris and the 'game'?"

The half elf thought back and then smiled at the details of such a vulgar ordeal.

"Welp. Back then, we were a group of inexperienced adventurers that would travel about and do some odd jobs for money."

"So you were mercenaries?"

"Ha! Kinda, but not really. See, they called us Misfits because that is what we were. Losers. We had an apprentice wizard that stole his magic, a dwarf archer; me; a hedonist' who was my best friend mind you; and the scariest bitch with a blade in all the North. We traveled everywhere from The Craggs to Mortru, and Elaskyyr to Aio. We caused so much trouble along the way. We got banned from almost every brothel in Mortru's capital."

The man wanted to continue on reminiscing, but he felt she would not appreciate tales of his misadventures.

"What about you, Hast? Care to share a little about how a little spell-slinger like yourself managed to wind up North?" the soft steady breaths of a sleeping mage made the man trail off before "Another time then."

By the next afternoon. The final drips of the rum dropped forth from the spout of the leather flask. Hastur held out her tongue in an effort to catch the last drops. When nothing more came, she looked at the flask with a pouted lip and melancholy

"The rum is gone. Why is all the rum gone?" she grumbled

Thaelin stood off looking at the map and glancing up towards the massive mesa that was before them. The Anvils, aptly names for its flat surface and iron-gray stone surface. Yellow lichen grew on the cliff face like rust on the anvil. As a natural border, this mountain helped sever the contact Hayak had with The Elven North. The ranger's biggest hope was that their poking around the border wont end in another kidnapping like the last time they were this far north.

"Hey!" came a yell behind him "Why is the rum gone?"

"Probably because you drank it all, lightweight."

Hastur's pout was even worse now. "Why must everything leave me?"

The huntsman handed the mage the map and crossed his arms. "Okay, we are here. Whats the map say.

Still fixated on the rum, hastur tossed the empty flask in her satchel "I once read that there was a god who could turn water into wine. If only I could have been his cleric. I could pray and drink all day"

"And I could be a high priest. We could build a temple and call it The Church of the Holy Spirits. But first, how about you open the door."

The half-elf unfurled the parchment. She squinted at the script written about. "Its gotta be a magic door." she said.

Hastur slung her satchel to her front and dug through its contents for her piece of chalk. She stood at the base of the towering mountain wall to rub her hand across its surface. When she found a rather smooth spot looking like a scholar's slat. She proceeded to draw an arched door big enough for her. Once satisfied with the look, she stepped back and continued to read the instructions.

"Now you have to open it." She said taking a few steps back

"Why me? Its gonna be trapped." Declared the huntsman crossing his arms in protest

"Its not trapped. It says her that the door must be opened by a friend to Elven-kind. You're my friend" she nudged. "Go open it."

Thaelin approached the drawing with caution. He placed a hand on the surface and applied pressure. But nothing happened.

Wait! Do I say the word friend or something?

How am I supposed to know? Just because I'm part elf doesn't mean I know this stuff. Its worth a shot I guess. The elven word for friend is ebr-

"Soithin baeg!" The ranger cocked his head back to look at the mountain. The echo of his words resonated off the steep cliff face. Remnants of his speech bounced off the mount and was cast back into the forest behind them. He fully expected the mountain to shift and the door to unfold in some grand entrance. But nothing. Not a pebble was out of place. The wind blew the same. The barren tops of the mesa retained their perpetual flat tops.

"Damn. I think your door is broken." He said to a visibly distraught cleric

"Of all the things you could possible know in my language. You say that?!"

"What?"

"What? What?! Do you have any idea what you have just said?"

"The word for friend? How am I supposed to know? Do I look like I have a pair of dagger ears on me?"

The cleric dropped her satchel and commenced to wallop the huntsman. She struck with such fury the ranger struggled to escape the mage's wrath. With a mighty punt her boot dropped her friend to his knees. Hands cradling his groin and tears welling in his eyes. A high pitched shriek escaped the man's gasping lips.

"Soithin baeg means 'little bitch'. You fucking idiot."

"S-sorry." He managed to say curled up into a fetal position while he wallowed in his crippling pain, the ranger thought back to they were taken by the elves. That certainly explained why the maiden with the large charms laughed at him.

The word for friend is erbrath. Now say it right before I kick you a second time."

Thaelin rocked onto his side. He repeated the words as best he could. And the chalk outline on the cliff swung open on magic hinges.

Hastur smirked at the door. She approached the doorway. Her core hummed with nervous tingling. She placed a hand on the stone frame. The air inside was cool, stale, and musty. The light from outside struggled to illuminate the interior.

"It's a trap". Winced Thaelin slowly getting to his feet. The crippling pain starting to subside in his loins.

"Its not a trap."

The little mage felt a stone under her left boot sink into a pressure plate and the sounds of mechanisms activated. The walls came alive. And an unknown grown roared from within.

'Oh shit. It was a trap'