Chapter 2
"The strangest sights are often far closer to home than you think!"- Laruman, Wanderer of Worlds
Gwen blinked at the bright light. The two suns were now high in the sky. She only had about six hours left before she would be waking up people to ask them to be ready in the morning. Not good. Now what did she need?
She now had a powerful cleric and stout fighters. Brueyan provided some nature expertise, but not enough. They would be traveling through the woods much of the way, so someone of the druidic path would be an invaluable addition to the growing team.
Aramne seemed the logical choice. The half-silvaniel woman was one of the rarest creatures, even rarer than the half-avariel aasimar, Gwen thought wryly. Aramne was an incarnate, one of those destined to be reborn again and again in different forms. None knew how common those who were reincarnated were, but only the rarest of them could actively remember and call upon their past lives. Aramne had only begun to truly delve into her past lives a few decades ago. She had several of her past lives under full control, able to recall old memories of different existences at will. She could change into the forms of those past lives she had mastered, as well as the useful skills of a druid, making her truly a formidable foe to those opposed to the natural state of things.
Aramne lived alone, half a mile outside of Castle Tarintor. To visit her expediently, she would need Arwyn, her mount.
* * *
Lady Gwendolyn stepped soundlessly into the combined stable and aerie and snuck quietly upon the youth half sleeping in a hay pile."ìBerak!" she shouted jovially, nudging him with her foot. The half-dwarven lad leapt to his feet, suddenly alert despite his disheveled hair and beard. Berak was rather short for a human man, only standing five foot, but he was stockier than human men a foot taller. He would never be as broad as a full dwarf, though, and his complexion looked was not so dark as a dwarf's either. Berak's skin was a chocolate brown, instead of the pale, freckled look so common among the Dallornish peoples of the area or the deepest brown color typical of the dwarves.
"Sorry, milady! I have been up since four this morn mucking stalls, and-"
"No apologies, Berak," Lady Gwendolyn barked harshly. Then, unable to keep up the ruse, she began to grin uncontrollably. "Fooled you, didn't I?"
"Yes, Lady Gwendolyn." Berak seemed rather confused by the whimsical lady knight, albeit relieved that he was not in trouble.
"Are my companions fit to travel?"
"Yes, Lady Gwendolyn. Come this way." The lad briskly went off down the corridor. Gwen followed, but looked in the stalls as she walked. Only the first few held horses, obviously the mounts of foreigners. When the Army of the Dragon military was first formed, the local animals, the dragons, were both its namesake and its primary resource. Thus, most of the stalls on Gwen's left held the knight's dragons. The right wall was filled with pens and cages. The pens held labor dragons, a large and squat breed that performed hard labor and generally served as a mount for the commoners. The small cages, however, held messenger dragons. Messenger dragons were one of the few Dallornish dragon breeds with wings and thus the ability to fly. They relayed messages throughout the fortress and were the most common familiars, magical companions, of Dallornish spellcasters.
The two gigantic stalls at the end of the stable held war dragons. They were the mounts of the two highest ranking officers in Castle Tarintor, the sergeants. One sergeant was a War Wizard of the Dragon, the other a Dragon Talon Knight, both holders of extremely extremely prestigious positions. Their mounts were just as prestigious. The queen herself was accountable for the whereabouts of each of the beasts, and they were only in the hands of her generals and sergeants.
The war dragons were beautiful, sinuous creatures, so large that their riders used howdahs instead of saddles. While Gwen admired the magnificent beasts, Berak looked through the cages. He paused a moment at one cage, then another, looking at the tags on the barred doors. Finally, a little voice called from one of the cages, "Berak? I'm in this cage. Number fifty- two. Would you please let me out now? I'm feeling a little claustrophobic. I want to go back to Lady Gwendolyn, Berak. Let me out! Now, Berak."
"Berak sighed patiently and walked up to cage number fifty-two. "This one, ma'am?"
Gwen just smiled innocently and prayed she was not blushing. "I hope that Luin has been behaving himself. He can be a bit, um, vocal at times."
Berak politely ignored the understatement as he unlocked the cage door. "If you will take him, Lady, I will ready your mount for riding."
A small dragon, about the size of a pigeon, fluttered out of the cage and landed on Gwen's arm. Gwen nodded, then waited for Berak to pass out of earshot, then raised the little violet dragon up to eye level. Gwen smiled wickedly at Luin, then began to speak in a hissing whisper to the animal. Very few paladins had familiars, so Gwen usually tried to pretend Luin was a pet in order to maintain some semblance of normalacy. "Luin, how many times have I told you not to speak to other people?"
"I, ah," sputtered the dragon, only to be silenced with a glare.
"Maybe you have forgotten, but I am a paladin. A worker of magic divine. Combatants blessed with the divine have mounts, not familiars. You are a bi- product of my birth, not a reflection of my calling in this world. I stand out enough without a talking pet pigeon with scales." The surest way to upset the little animal was to call him a pigeon, though the pudgy little pear-shaped dragon truly resembled one.
Luin began to speak telepathically in a apologetic tone. IT WILL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN, GWEN, I SWEAR IT. Luin's voice suddenly became scathing, and he added, HOWEVER, SUCH CAGES ARE RATHER DEGRADING. IT IS FAR BELOW MY STATION TO ENDURE SUCH CRAMPED CONDITIONS, AS YOU WELL KNOW.
TELL YOU WHAT. YOU DON'T TALK TO ANYONE ELSE WHO DOES NOT KNOW ABOUT OUR CONNECTION, AND I GET YOU A BETTER CAGE TO LEAVE IN MY QUARTERS. FAIR?
I SUPPOSE. SAY, WHY ARE YOU STILL IN THE DRAGON ARMY ANYWAY? WHY DON'T YOU GO BACK HOME, SETTLE DOWN, START A FAMILY?
SAY, WHY DON'T I PUT YOU BACK IN THAT CAGE OVERNIGHT TO SEE IF YOU CHANGE YOUR TUNE. Luin had been on that track for eight years now, and it was getting old.
Fortunately for the little dragon, Berak called out at that moment, "Lady Gwendolyn, your mount is ready to ride."
Gwen glared for another second at Luin, then quickly walked over to the stall. There stood Arwyn.
"Hey, girl," Gwen said with a soft smile. "Did you miss me?"
The dragon, with its blue violet scales matching her riderÃs eyes, just looked at her for a second. Her head turned sideways, and she thought to Gwen, WHAT IS WRONG? WHERE ARE WE GOING? TELL ME.
LATER was all Gwendolyn could reply with Berak standing there. She smiled at the lad, handed him a gold piece "for your troubles with Luin", and led her companions out of the building. Once on the street, she placed Luin in her backpack, saddled up, and the three cantered out of Tarintor's main gate off to Aramne's cottage.
* * *
It was difficult to find Aramne's home; it took half an hour of searching through the woods. The druid disguised her home to blend in with the surrounding foliage, and had done a good job. Thus, after a long time, Lady Gwendolyn finally found the place, a hollow in a gigantic living tree that was well-covered with moss and vines to prevent accidental sightings. Gwen swung down from Arwyn's back, then took Luin and told him to sit on the grip of the saddle. She adjusted her helm and flexed her wings, then strode boldly up to the doorway and knocked on the tree trunk.
"Enter," whispered a hauntingly serene voice.
Gwen pushed aside the vines and strode in boldly. "Lady Aramne? Is this the house of Aramne the half-elf?"
From the shadows deep in the back of the "room", a taunting voice replied, "This is the house of many spirits. The body of which you speak is not present."
Attempting patience, Gwen replied, "What of the spirit of Aramne? Where is that?"
"To that spirit you now speak. Why require you this being?" Still the voice was taunting, but contemplative as well.
"I have need of talents only Aramne possesses."
"Other beings possess such talents as she." Still the person did not venture out of the shadows in the back of the tree trunk.
Her impatience rising, Gwen replied, "But no one I can contact this night. I need one with much forest lore, for I must lead a group south, into Silvanesti. There is an evil travelling towards there that we must destroy."
"What is evil but that which you are not?"
"Evil is the desire to hurt and destroy."
"But would not a being you label evil consider himself to be good?"
"Well, yes, but -"
"Then why must you destroy them?"
Finally, Gwen's patience snapped. "Lady Aramne, if that is who you are, I have neither the time nor the patience for a philosophical debate. I must lead a party at dawn to go to Faelaeri to fight the Blackblood. Will you or will you not come to-?"
The shadows in front of Gwen began to lengthen, and Gwen's voice failed her. Suddenly, a large and fearsome creature stepped out of the shadows. As tall as two of Gwen's body, it was looming over her. The beast had the upper body of a beautiful woman, black haired and green eyed, with large black feathered wings. Its legs were like those of a bird, and her fingernails were claws. An unpleasant scent issued forth from the beast, reminding her of raw meat. A harpy, Gwen realized with a dim horror, even as her warrior intincts led her to draw her longsword from her scabbard, and she was quite prepared to plunge it into the creature when it looked at her with a very human look of curiosity and asked, "Did you say Faelaeri?"
"What? Oh, Faelaeri. But-?"
"I have always longed to see the elven homelands." Suddenly, the harpy looked down at itself. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I startle you? Forgive me," the harpy said gently, even as it turned to a half-elven girl with the same bright green eyes and black hair of her last form. "That was the form of Gaaki. She was a common harpy, a servant of Takhei all her days, never truly understanding the flashes of insight our past lives had given her. Again I apologize. I forget all too often that my alternate bodies disturb people, especially when those forms are of the 'evil' denizens of Aris. Forgive me."
Still unnerved by the sudden appearance and transformation of a harpy, Gwen just looked at her for a moment. "I presume you are Aramne then?"
"Yes, of course."
"Will you depart with us at sunrise tomorrow?"
"I will."
"I will be at the gates of Castle Tarintor." Gwen turned to go, shaking her head, but stopped as a sudden thought crossed her mind. "And please appear in your half-elven form, I do not want you to frighten the guards." Gwen quickly mounted Arwyn again, and set off towards Castle Tarintor at a gallop, a bit relieved that she hadn't killed the girl she had come for.
* * *
As Arwyn slowed to a trot back to the fortress, Lady Gwendolyn began to think about who else would be needed. Some arcane power would be needed, preferably a wielder well versed in dark lore. Of course, those well versed in dark lore generally had such knowledge because evil magics were their specialty, which would not bode well in an adventuring companion.
One option presented itself: Taudoc Malgrim. He was a reclusive mage, in self-imposed exile from Korak, the nation famous for its evil wizards. He lived alone a little ways from Aramne, just far enough from Tarintor to discourage visitors. Little was known about him, and what she knew would not sit well with any upstanding soul. He was a blood magus, a spellcaster who uses the power of his blood to fuel his magic. How he came upon such dark power, none knew. However, the wizard was known to have an extensive knowledge of both undead and fiends, a knowledge which would prove invaluable. Resolving herself, Gwen steered Arwyn towards Taudoc Malgrim's residence.
* * *
It took Gwen almost as long to find Taudoc Malgrim's run-down cottage as it had to find Aramne's, which made her bristle at the delay. Time was slipping through her fingers, and there was nothing she could do about it. The lady knight sighed, stretched her wing tips nervously, and slid from Arwyn's back. Again, she left Luin with Arwyn, ignoring the protests of the little purple dragon.
Gwen straightened her helm quickly, then marched up to the door to the ramshackle hut. She knocked and received no response. A second knock yielded only silence. A third knock with the same reply, and Gwen hesitantly pushed the door open. "Master Malgrim? Are you there? Hello?"
There was no light coming in but for the open door. Thick shadows fell at her sides. Gwen squinted and tried to look around. The hut looked as though its owner was making regular efforts to clean it, albeit unsuccessful ones. The bookshelves were full of vtomes of arcane lore, the cluttered black marble worktable in the middle of the room was in good repair, and the wood floor was fairly clean, except for the odd stains everywhere. Yet somehow, every sureface was covered in dust. "Hello? Master Malgrim?"
A harsh, croaking, mocking voice, vaguely feminine, called out behind her and to her left.
"Hello!"
Turning towards the voice, Gwen replied, "Are you Master Taudoc Malgrim?"
"Nevermore," croaked the voice, even as the glint of a dagger flickered behind her. Gwen whirled around halfway, arcane words murmered, and Gwen found herself frozen in place.
A soft, biting voice, like velvet and much different from the last, pierced the darkness around her, "Who are you?"
"Lady Gwendolyn Sarnah, a knight of the Army of the Dragon." A word was spoken, and a flame lit in an instant on the end of a slender stick. Gwen could just make out a figure dressed in black robes with the cowl pulled over his face before the flame died, and only the end of a long cigarette was lit. Wizardweed, Gwen realized. The stuff enhanced the mind while it weakened health and caused irritability. It was highly addictive, a common drug of wizards.
The man took a long drag on the cigarette before he spoke, "You are a long way from Castle Tarintor, little girl. Are you lost?"
He called her a little girl! Fighting back her anger, Gwen replied, "I seek Taudoc Malgrim. Are you he?"
"That all depends on why you are searching for him."
"I have need of powerful magics such as you possess."
"What, fertility potions? You can get those at the marketplace."
"No! I need a powerful wizard, one with experience with fiends and the undead. Perhaps I was mistaken in seeking out you." Gwen could not keep the scorn out of her voice. "I do not like being restrained, by rope or by magic. Release me, please."
The voice in the shadows seemed not to hear her request. "Why do you need one such as myself?"
"I am to lead a band south in search of a Blackblood contingent."
"Why trouble me with some goblin vagabonds?"
"They are more powerful than that. They have intelligent undead, at least one fiend, drow elves, and goblinoids with unknown powers. Will you come? We leave at sunrise." Gwen felt her magical bonds release, and she stretched her wings even as she stepped forward hesitantly. "I like to see the faces of those I am dealing with. Step into the light, and remove your hood."
The hooded figure in black stepped forward. He slowly pulled back his cowl, and it was all Gwen could do not to gasp in shock. The man before her was horrible looking. He was average height, but thinner than a wraith. Stringy black hair fell unevenly to his chin. Terrible, bloodshot eyes that were almost all pupil squinted at Gwen over a large nose that had clearly been broken many times. His skin was as pale as death, covered in bruises and scars. A thin line of blood was welling up on his throat. "You are bleeding! If I may assist-," Gwen tried to say.
"It is nothing," the mage said coldly. "A mark of my casting. But it is your fault. Had you not
come, I would not have expended the blood necessary to bind you in magic."
An uncomfortable silence echoed through the air, as Gwen could think of no response, finally broken by a harsh-sounding raven's caw. "This is Lenore. She is my familiar." At his words, a blur of black flew just inches from Gwen's nose. It passed her quickly, and perched on Taudoc's shoulder. It looked like a raven, but it blurred into the shadows around it on the edges. It did not seem to be a normal animal. It could not have been, for no normal animal faded into its surroundings so well. What was it? Answering Gwen's silent question, he replied, "Lenore is a shadow raven. She speaks both your native language and mine." He coughed hoarsely. "We will be at the gates in the morning."
Gwen bowed quickly, said "Thank you," and quickly left. She mounted Aramne at a gallop and was off, glad to be gone.
Just before she had passed out of earshot, Gwen heard a cackling voice, mocking in what was now a distinctively feminine cry, "Nevermore!"
* * *
As Gwen made off faster than lightning, suddenly she had a frightening thought: they had no one who could disable traps and pick locks. Who knew what dastardly things the Blackblood employed? She would need someone with experience on the shady side of the law. For that, only one person would do.
Sighing to herself about what sort of party she was assembling, Gwen sped on.
* * *
Gwen only slowed Arwyn's gallop when she came within sight of the walls of Castle Tarintor. Gwen chose to keep Arwyn and Luin with her, even in the crowded marketplace. She had obstinantly decided that if they were going to stare, she might as well give them a reason. She took Luin out of her backpack and let him sit on her arm, like a trained falcon, using only one hand on Arwyn's reins. Fortunately, she moved much faster through the market on her mount than she did on foot. She dismounted at a particular booth, which she might not have noticed had she not known it was there. No less than a dozen people, all coming up to Gwen's waist, were all at the booth. Two of each were hounding a customer, trying to haggle prices. She scanned through the ruddy olive faces of the halflings, searching for one in particular.
Marlow Fenwark found Gwen first. "Greetings, fairest of the talls!" he called out gaily with a mocking bow, breaking away from his kin to talk with her. Marlow was decked out like most people of his kind; he wore baggy striped pants, knee-high leather boots, a puffy white blouse, a tight- fitting vest, and a broad hat with a long feather. Everything was brightly colored in shades of red and orange, with touches of blue and green. His swarthy skin had a sweaty sheen from the hot suns, but his dark eyes were laughing. Curly, thick black hair and a long matching mustache fell down to his shoulders. Marlow was slightly taller than all of his kin, yet he only came up to Gwen's hip.
"Have you done well today, handsomest of the short?" Gwen rejoined merrily.
"I've had better days, but I cannot tell you the noble exploits of either, can I, Lady Knight?"
Gwen smiled wearily. Halflings had a different moral code than any other race. They lived
nomadically, wintering at any community that would take them. Their definition of property was anything in their family wagon, whatever they bore on their person, and the items they were trying to sell. What no one owned in those senses was fair game for taking. This made them scoundrels as far as anyone else was concerned, but Gwen had a certain fascination with the short people and their ways. "No, Marlow, I suppose you should not."
"Would you be interested in anything for sale today?"
"I don't come to shop, not this time. I have a better idea," Gwen tempted him with a grin.
"What could be better than gold in my pockets?"
"More gold than you could get in a year at Castle Tarintor."
Marlow looked at her with shrewd eyes, a glare strengthened by over a decade of bartering. "Details."
"I am leading an expedition south, in search of some powerful Blackbloods. They are sure to have wealth, magical items. You would be welcome to take some of it with you if you come and participate."
Gwen knew she had him by the glint in his eye. "Be ready at sunrise at the gates." Without waiting for his answer, Gwen remounted Arwyn and was off.
* * *
Though two half-elves were already in Gwen's expedition, counting herself, no full-blooded elf was present. Not a good omen for a journey to the elven homeland. But who to take? Meditating on the quandary a moment revealed one fact. Only one full-blooded elf dwelled in Tarintor at present: Rahasia Aravarnae. She was a qualiniel, a flame elf, as well as an loose acquaintance of Gwen's. Rahasia was a spellcaster, but not like Taudoc Malgrim. Taudoc was a wizard, someone who studied for many years to master magic. Rahasia was a sorcerer, one who could cast spells as naturally as she could breathe. Rahasia's talents had developed along racial lines, for she had a specialty with fire magic. In addition, Rahasia was reputed to be one of the uncommon fireblood spellcasters. The firebloods produced large amounts of body heat when they would cast spells, causing many odd traditions and dress codes among them.
A very unladylike curse escaped from Gwen as she saw the suns setting. There was little time left. Where would she find Rahasia? A sudden thought struck her, and Gwen urged Arwyn on as fast as she could throught the marketplace.
* * *
Gwen kept her head high, scanning the thick crowds around the ever- popular flamethrowing booth. Finally, she found what she was looking for. A dog the size of a horse, a flame cooshe, the elven dog with black and red fur, was ridden sidesaddle by an elven woman with ebony skin and hair the color of flame. Gwen urged Arwyn on till the two were riding side by side in the marketplace. "Fair evening, Lady Rahasia."
"Fair evening to you as well, my friend," Rahasia replied briskly. Her stunning eyes matched her wavy flame-colored hair. She wore a black velvet kimono, which was aparently why she rode sidesaddle.
Gwen decided to press for time and skip the usual formalities. "I lead an expedition south, towards Faelaeri. I need someone who knows the way."
"I am intent on remaining in Castle Tarintor for several monthes. It was nice to see you again," Rahasia said politely, going back to watching the jugglers and their torches.
"I also need your fire magic. The Blackblood is not so weak that you would simply be a guide."
Rahasia suddenly looked concerned. Most elves felt a strong connection to their ancestral homeland. "The Blackblood? Near Faelaeri?"
"They have been sighted near the border between Faelaeri and Dallorn. A dangerous looking group, with fiends, undead, and," suddenly Gwen received a burst of inspiration, recalling the surface elves' greatest foes, "drow. At least one drow."
"A drow? Approching Faelaeri? When do we leave?"
"At dawn."
"I will come. May I bring my mount and familiar?"
"Of course. I will see you at sunrise."
* * *
Gwen smiled inwardly. No one else needed to come. All she had to do now was inform whoever was on duty at the main tower that a group would be assembling and not to worry, then drop Arwyn off at the stables. After that, she could get some well-deserved sleep in the barracks before they set off.
"The strangest sights are often far closer to home than you think!"- Laruman, Wanderer of Worlds
Gwen blinked at the bright light. The two suns were now high in the sky. She only had about six hours left before she would be waking up people to ask them to be ready in the morning. Not good. Now what did she need?
She now had a powerful cleric and stout fighters. Brueyan provided some nature expertise, but not enough. They would be traveling through the woods much of the way, so someone of the druidic path would be an invaluable addition to the growing team.
Aramne seemed the logical choice. The half-silvaniel woman was one of the rarest creatures, even rarer than the half-avariel aasimar, Gwen thought wryly. Aramne was an incarnate, one of those destined to be reborn again and again in different forms. None knew how common those who were reincarnated were, but only the rarest of them could actively remember and call upon their past lives. Aramne had only begun to truly delve into her past lives a few decades ago. She had several of her past lives under full control, able to recall old memories of different existences at will. She could change into the forms of those past lives she had mastered, as well as the useful skills of a druid, making her truly a formidable foe to those opposed to the natural state of things.
Aramne lived alone, half a mile outside of Castle Tarintor. To visit her expediently, she would need Arwyn, her mount.
* * *
Lady Gwendolyn stepped soundlessly into the combined stable and aerie and snuck quietly upon the youth half sleeping in a hay pile."ìBerak!" she shouted jovially, nudging him with her foot. The half-dwarven lad leapt to his feet, suddenly alert despite his disheveled hair and beard. Berak was rather short for a human man, only standing five foot, but he was stockier than human men a foot taller. He would never be as broad as a full dwarf, though, and his complexion looked was not so dark as a dwarf's either. Berak's skin was a chocolate brown, instead of the pale, freckled look so common among the Dallornish peoples of the area or the deepest brown color typical of the dwarves.
"Sorry, milady! I have been up since four this morn mucking stalls, and-"
"No apologies, Berak," Lady Gwendolyn barked harshly. Then, unable to keep up the ruse, she began to grin uncontrollably. "Fooled you, didn't I?"
"Yes, Lady Gwendolyn." Berak seemed rather confused by the whimsical lady knight, albeit relieved that he was not in trouble.
"Are my companions fit to travel?"
"Yes, Lady Gwendolyn. Come this way." The lad briskly went off down the corridor. Gwen followed, but looked in the stalls as she walked. Only the first few held horses, obviously the mounts of foreigners. When the Army of the Dragon military was first formed, the local animals, the dragons, were both its namesake and its primary resource. Thus, most of the stalls on Gwen's left held the knight's dragons. The right wall was filled with pens and cages. The pens held labor dragons, a large and squat breed that performed hard labor and generally served as a mount for the commoners. The small cages, however, held messenger dragons. Messenger dragons were one of the few Dallornish dragon breeds with wings and thus the ability to fly. They relayed messages throughout the fortress and were the most common familiars, magical companions, of Dallornish spellcasters.
The two gigantic stalls at the end of the stable held war dragons. They were the mounts of the two highest ranking officers in Castle Tarintor, the sergeants. One sergeant was a War Wizard of the Dragon, the other a Dragon Talon Knight, both holders of extremely extremely prestigious positions. Their mounts were just as prestigious. The queen herself was accountable for the whereabouts of each of the beasts, and they were only in the hands of her generals and sergeants.
The war dragons were beautiful, sinuous creatures, so large that their riders used howdahs instead of saddles. While Gwen admired the magnificent beasts, Berak looked through the cages. He paused a moment at one cage, then another, looking at the tags on the barred doors. Finally, a little voice called from one of the cages, "Berak? I'm in this cage. Number fifty- two. Would you please let me out now? I'm feeling a little claustrophobic. I want to go back to Lady Gwendolyn, Berak. Let me out! Now, Berak."
"Berak sighed patiently and walked up to cage number fifty-two. "This one, ma'am?"
Gwen just smiled innocently and prayed she was not blushing. "I hope that Luin has been behaving himself. He can be a bit, um, vocal at times."
Berak politely ignored the understatement as he unlocked the cage door. "If you will take him, Lady, I will ready your mount for riding."
A small dragon, about the size of a pigeon, fluttered out of the cage and landed on Gwen's arm. Gwen nodded, then waited for Berak to pass out of earshot, then raised the little violet dragon up to eye level. Gwen smiled wickedly at Luin, then began to speak in a hissing whisper to the animal. Very few paladins had familiars, so Gwen usually tried to pretend Luin was a pet in order to maintain some semblance of normalacy. "Luin, how many times have I told you not to speak to other people?"
"I, ah," sputtered the dragon, only to be silenced with a glare.
"Maybe you have forgotten, but I am a paladin. A worker of magic divine. Combatants blessed with the divine have mounts, not familiars. You are a bi- product of my birth, not a reflection of my calling in this world. I stand out enough without a talking pet pigeon with scales." The surest way to upset the little animal was to call him a pigeon, though the pudgy little pear-shaped dragon truly resembled one.
Luin began to speak telepathically in a apologetic tone. IT WILL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN, GWEN, I SWEAR IT. Luin's voice suddenly became scathing, and he added, HOWEVER, SUCH CAGES ARE RATHER DEGRADING. IT IS FAR BELOW MY STATION TO ENDURE SUCH CRAMPED CONDITIONS, AS YOU WELL KNOW.
TELL YOU WHAT. YOU DON'T TALK TO ANYONE ELSE WHO DOES NOT KNOW ABOUT OUR CONNECTION, AND I GET YOU A BETTER CAGE TO LEAVE IN MY QUARTERS. FAIR?
I SUPPOSE. SAY, WHY ARE YOU STILL IN THE DRAGON ARMY ANYWAY? WHY DON'T YOU GO BACK HOME, SETTLE DOWN, START A FAMILY?
SAY, WHY DON'T I PUT YOU BACK IN THAT CAGE OVERNIGHT TO SEE IF YOU CHANGE YOUR TUNE. Luin had been on that track for eight years now, and it was getting old.
Fortunately for the little dragon, Berak called out at that moment, "Lady Gwendolyn, your mount is ready to ride."
Gwen glared for another second at Luin, then quickly walked over to the stall. There stood Arwyn.
"Hey, girl," Gwen said with a soft smile. "Did you miss me?"
The dragon, with its blue violet scales matching her riderÃs eyes, just looked at her for a second. Her head turned sideways, and she thought to Gwen, WHAT IS WRONG? WHERE ARE WE GOING? TELL ME.
LATER was all Gwendolyn could reply with Berak standing there. She smiled at the lad, handed him a gold piece "for your troubles with Luin", and led her companions out of the building. Once on the street, she placed Luin in her backpack, saddled up, and the three cantered out of Tarintor's main gate off to Aramne's cottage.
* * *
It was difficult to find Aramne's home; it took half an hour of searching through the woods. The druid disguised her home to blend in with the surrounding foliage, and had done a good job. Thus, after a long time, Lady Gwendolyn finally found the place, a hollow in a gigantic living tree that was well-covered with moss and vines to prevent accidental sightings. Gwen swung down from Arwyn's back, then took Luin and told him to sit on the grip of the saddle. She adjusted her helm and flexed her wings, then strode boldly up to the doorway and knocked on the tree trunk.
"Enter," whispered a hauntingly serene voice.
Gwen pushed aside the vines and strode in boldly. "Lady Aramne? Is this the house of Aramne the half-elf?"
From the shadows deep in the back of the "room", a taunting voice replied, "This is the house of many spirits. The body of which you speak is not present."
Attempting patience, Gwen replied, "What of the spirit of Aramne? Where is that?"
"To that spirit you now speak. Why require you this being?" Still the voice was taunting, but contemplative as well.
"I have need of talents only Aramne possesses."
"Other beings possess such talents as she." Still the person did not venture out of the shadows in the back of the tree trunk.
Her impatience rising, Gwen replied, "But no one I can contact this night. I need one with much forest lore, for I must lead a group south, into Silvanesti. There is an evil travelling towards there that we must destroy."
"What is evil but that which you are not?"
"Evil is the desire to hurt and destroy."
"But would not a being you label evil consider himself to be good?"
"Well, yes, but -"
"Then why must you destroy them?"
Finally, Gwen's patience snapped. "Lady Aramne, if that is who you are, I have neither the time nor the patience for a philosophical debate. I must lead a party at dawn to go to Faelaeri to fight the Blackblood. Will you or will you not come to-?"
The shadows in front of Gwen began to lengthen, and Gwen's voice failed her. Suddenly, a large and fearsome creature stepped out of the shadows. As tall as two of Gwen's body, it was looming over her. The beast had the upper body of a beautiful woman, black haired and green eyed, with large black feathered wings. Its legs were like those of a bird, and her fingernails were claws. An unpleasant scent issued forth from the beast, reminding her of raw meat. A harpy, Gwen realized with a dim horror, even as her warrior intincts led her to draw her longsword from her scabbard, and she was quite prepared to plunge it into the creature when it looked at her with a very human look of curiosity and asked, "Did you say Faelaeri?"
"What? Oh, Faelaeri. But-?"
"I have always longed to see the elven homelands." Suddenly, the harpy looked down at itself. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I startle you? Forgive me," the harpy said gently, even as it turned to a half-elven girl with the same bright green eyes and black hair of her last form. "That was the form of Gaaki. She was a common harpy, a servant of Takhei all her days, never truly understanding the flashes of insight our past lives had given her. Again I apologize. I forget all too often that my alternate bodies disturb people, especially when those forms are of the 'evil' denizens of Aris. Forgive me."
Still unnerved by the sudden appearance and transformation of a harpy, Gwen just looked at her for a moment. "I presume you are Aramne then?"
"Yes, of course."
"Will you depart with us at sunrise tomorrow?"
"I will."
"I will be at the gates of Castle Tarintor." Gwen turned to go, shaking her head, but stopped as a sudden thought crossed her mind. "And please appear in your half-elven form, I do not want you to frighten the guards." Gwen quickly mounted Arwyn again, and set off towards Castle Tarintor at a gallop, a bit relieved that she hadn't killed the girl she had come for.
* * *
As Arwyn slowed to a trot back to the fortress, Lady Gwendolyn began to think about who else would be needed. Some arcane power would be needed, preferably a wielder well versed in dark lore. Of course, those well versed in dark lore generally had such knowledge because evil magics were their specialty, which would not bode well in an adventuring companion.
One option presented itself: Taudoc Malgrim. He was a reclusive mage, in self-imposed exile from Korak, the nation famous for its evil wizards. He lived alone a little ways from Aramne, just far enough from Tarintor to discourage visitors. Little was known about him, and what she knew would not sit well with any upstanding soul. He was a blood magus, a spellcaster who uses the power of his blood to fuel his magic. How he came upon such dark power, none knew. However, the wizard was known to have an extensive knowledge of both undead and fiends, a knowledge which would prove invaluable. Resolving herself, Gwen steered Arwyn towards Taudoc Malgrim's residence.
* * *
It took Gwen almost as long to find Taudoc Malgrim's run-down cottage as it had to find Aramne's, which made her bristle at the delay. Time was slipping through her fingers, and there was nothing she could do about it. The lady knight sighed, stretched her wing tips nervously, and slid from Arwyn's back. Again, she left Luin with Arwyn, ignoring the protests of the little purple dragon.
Gwen straightened her helm quickly, then marched up to the door to the ramshackle hut. She knocked and received no response. A second knock yielded only silence. A third knock with the same reply, and Gwen hesitantly pushed the door open. "Master Malgrim? Are you there? Hello?"
There was no light coming in but for the open door. Thick shadows fell at her sides. Gwen squinted and tried to look around. The hut looked as though its owner was making regular efforts to clean it, albeit unsuccessful ones. The bookshelves were full of vtomes of arcane lore, the cluttered black marble worktable in the middle of the room was in good repair, and the wood floor was fairly clean, except for the odd stains everywhere. Yet somehow, every sureface was covered in dust. "Hello? Master Malgrim?"
A harsh, croaking, mocking voice, vaguely feminine, called out behind her and to her left.
"Hello!"
Turning towards the voice, Gwen replied, "Are you Master Taudoc Malgrim?"
"Nevermore," croaked the voice, even as the glint of a dagger flickered behind her. Gwen whirled around halfway, arcane words murmered, and Gwen found herself frozen in place.
A soft, biting voice, like velvet and much different from the last, pierced the darkness around her, "Who are you?"
"Lady Gwendolyn Sarnah, a knight of the Army of the Dragon." A word was spoken, and a flame lit in an instant on the end of a slender stick. Gwen could just make out a figure dressed in black robes with the cowl pulled over his face before the flame died, and only the end of a long cigarette was lit. Wizardweed, Gwen realized. The stuff enhanced the mind while it weakened health and caused irritability. It was highly addictive, a common drug of wizards.
The man took a long drag on the cigarette before he spoke, "You are a long way from Castle Tarintor, little girl. Are you lost?"
He called her a little girl! Fighting back her anger, Gwen replied, "I seek Taudoc Malgrim. Are you he?"
"That all depends on why you are searching for him."
"I have need of powerful magics such as you possess."
"What, fertility potions? You can get those at the marketplace."
"No! I need a powerful wizard, one with experience with fiends and the undead. Perhaps I was mistaken in seeking out you." Gwen could not keep the scorn out of her voice. "I do not like being restrained, by rope or by magic. Release me, please."
The voice in the shadows seemed not to hear her request. "Why do you need one such as myself?"
"I am to lead a band south in search of a Blackblood contingent."
"Why trouble me with some goblin vagabonds?"
"They are more powerful than that. They have intelligent undead, at least one fiend, drow elves, and goblinoids with unknown powers. Will you come? We leave at sunrise." Gwen felt her magical bonds release, and she stretched her wings even as she stepped forward hesitantly. "I like to see the faces of those I am dealing with. Step into the light, and remove your hood."
The hooded figure in black stepped forward. He slowly pulled back his cowl, and it was all Gwen could do not to gasp in shock. The man before her was horrible looking. He was average height, but thinner than a wraith. Stringy black hair fell unevenly to his chin. Terrible, bloodshot eyes that were almost all pupil squinted at Gwen over a large nose that had clearly been broken many times. His skin was as pale as death, covered in bruises and scars. A thin line of blood was welling up on his throat. "You are bleeding! If I may assist-," Gwen tried to say.
"It is nothing," the mage said coldly. "A mark of my casting. But it is your fault. Had you not
come, I would not have expended the blood necessary to bind you in magic."
An uncomfortable silence echoed through the air, as Gwen could think of no response, finally broken by a harsh-sounding raven's caw. "This is Lenore. She is my familiar." At his words, a blur of black flew just inches from Gwen's nose. It passed her quickly, and perched on Taudoc's shoulder. It looked like a raven, but it blurred into the shadows around it on the edges. It did not seem to be a normal animal. It could not have been, for no normal animal faded into its surroundings so well. What was it? Answering Gwen's silent question, he replied, "Lenore is a shadow raven. She speaks both your native language and mine." He coughed hoarsely. "We will be at the gates in the morning."
Gwen bowed quickly, said "Thank you," and quickly left. She mounted Aramne at a gallop and was off, glad to be gone.
Just before she had passed out of earshot, Gwen heard a cackling voice, mocking in what was now a distinctively feminine cry, "Nevermore!"
* * *
As Gwen made off faster than lightning, suddenly she had a frightening thought: they had no one who could disable traps and pick locks. Who knew what dastardly things the Blackblood employed? She would need someone with experience on the shady side of the law. For that, only one person would do.
Sighing to herself about what sort of party she was assembling, Gwen sped on.
* * *
Gwen only slowed Arwyn's gallop when she came within sight of the walls of Castle Tarintor. Gwen chose to keep Arwyn and Luin with her, even in the crowded marketplace. She had obstinantly decided that if they were going to stare, she might as well give them a reason. She took Luin out of her backpack and let him sit on her arm, like a trained falcon, using only one hand on Arwyn's reins. Fortunately, she moved much faster through the market on her mount than she did on foot. She dismounted at a particular booth, which she might not have noticed had she not known it was there. No less than a dozen people, all coming up to Gwen's waist, were all at the booth. Two of each were hounding a customer, trying to haggle prices. She scanned through the ruddy olive faces of the halflings, searching for one in particular.
Marlow Fenwark found Gwen first. "Greetings, fairest of the talls!" he called out gaily with a mocking bow, breaking away from his kin to talk with her. Marlow was decked out like most people of his kind; he wore baggy striped pants, knee-high leather boots, a puffy white blouse, a tight- fitting vest, and a broad hat with a long feather. Everything was brightly colored in shades of red and orange, with touches of blue and green. His swarthy skin had a sweaty sheen from the hot suns, but his dark eyes were laughing. Curly, thick black hair and a long matching mustache fell down to his shoulders. Marlow was slightly taller than all of his kin, yet he only came up to Gwen's hip.
"Have you done well today, handsomest of the short?" Gwen rejoined merrily.
"I've had better days, but I cannot tell you the noble exploits of either, can I, Lady Knight?"
Gwen smiled wearily. Halflings had a different moral code than any other race. They lived
nomadically, wintering at any community that would take them. Their definition of property was anything in their family wagon, whatever they bore on their person, and the items they were trying to sell. What no one owned in those senses was fair game for taking. This made them scoundrels as far as anyone else was concerned, but Gwen had a certain fascination with the short people and their ways. "No, Marlow, I suppose you should not."
"Would you be interested in anything for sale today?"
"I don't come to shop, not this time. I have a better idea," Gwen tempted him with a grin.
"What could be better than gold in my pockets?"
"More gold than you could get in a year at Castle Tarintor."
Marlow looked at her with shrewd eyes, a glare strengthened by over a decade of bartering. "Details."
"I am leading an expedition south, in search of some powerful Blackbloods. They are sure to have wealth, magical items. You would be welcome to take some of it with you if you come and participate."
Gwen knew she had him by the glint in his eye. "Be ready at sunrise at the gates." Without waiting for his answer, Gwen remounted Arwyn and was off.
* * *
Though two half-elves were already in Gwen's expedition, counting herself, no full-blooded elf was present. Not a good omen for a journey to the elven homeland. But who to take? Meditating on the quandary a moment revealed one fact. Only one full-blooded elf dwelled in Tarintor at present: Rahasia Aravarnae. She was a qualiniel, a flame elf, as well as an loose acquaintance of Gwen's. Rahasia was a spellcaster, but not like Taudoc Malgrim. Taudoc was a wizard, someone who studied for many years to master magic. Rahasia was a sorcerer, one who could cast spells as naturally as she could breathe. Rahasia's talents had developed along racial lines, for she had a specialty with fire magic. In addition, Rahasia was reputed to be one of the uncommon fireblood spellcasters. The firebloods produced large amounts of body heat when they would cast spells, causing many odd traditions and dress codes among them.
A very unladylike curse escaped from Gwen as she saw the suns setting. There was little time left. Where would she find Rahasia? A sudden thought struck her, and Gwen urged Arwyn on as fast as she could throught the marketplace.
* * *
Gwen kept her head high, scanning the thick crowds around the ever- popular flamethrowing booth. Finally, she found what she was looking for. A dog the size of a horse, a flame cooshe, the elven dog with black and red fur, was ridden sidesaddle by an elven woman with ebony skin and hair the color of flame. Gwen urged Arwyn on till the two were riding side by side in the marketplace. "Fair evening, Lady Rahasia."
"Fair evening to you as well, my friend," Rahasia replied briskly. Her stunning eyes matched her wavy flame-colored hair. She wore a black velvet kimono, which was aparently why she rode sidesaddle.
Gwen decided to press for time and skip the usual formalities. "I lead an expedition south, towards Faelaeri. I need someone who knows the way."
"I am intent on remaining in Castle Tarintor for several monthes. It was nice to see you again," Rahasia said politely, going back to watching the jugglers and their torches.
"I also need your fire magic. The Blackblood is not so weak that you would simply be a guide."
Rahasia suddenly looked concerned. Most elves felt a strong connection to their ancestral homeland. "The Blackblood? Near Faelaeri?"
"They have been sighted near the border between Faelaeri and Dallorn. A dangerous looking group, with fiends, undead, and," suddenly Gwen received a burst of inspiration, recalling the surface elves' greatest foes, "drow. At least one drow."
"A drow? Approching Faelaeri? When do we leave?"
"At dawn."
"I will come. May I bring my mount and familiar?"
"Of course. I will see you at sunrise."
* * *
Gwen smiled inwardly. No one else needed to come. All she had to do now was inform whoever was on duty at the main tower that a group would be assembling and not to worry, then drop Arwyn off at the stables. After that, she could get some well-deserved sleep in the barracks before they set off.