27. Thayvian Games

The red-robed man was most put out.

Months of trekking, shadowing, spying, plotting, only to have all ruined by a pack of halberd-toting overgrown fleabags! But why? It had hardly required his boundless intellect to deduce the attack was deliberate, specific, and planned, not an ordinary whack-the-peasants-you-pass job (much like the previous night's engagement with the family of a farmer too shortsighted to see the wisdom of providing food and board for a promising young nobleman such as himself. A few acid arrows and magic missiles truly did work wonders on impolite serfs, even outside the civilizing influences of Thayvian law.)

Unless Wychalarn was a gnoll delicacy (he was torn between enthusiastic approval and vehement reproach of this theorized culinary opinion), another plot was amiss. The farmer's wife had (after the proper encouragement) been generous regarding information about the only known gnollish camp in the region, and so he had a target, but not yet a motive. And, with his slain bodyguard dead back in the woods and by now doubtless half-devoured by his own rabid rodent, reaching and breaching this 'abandoned' fortress would perhaps prove inconvenient for even one of his fearsome wizardly powers. Luckily, with such a hick's hamlet as this 'Nashkel' being a new tourist-stop for adventurers thanks to some inane 'iron crisis' in the primitive local economy, rubes were sure to be found.

-----

Making their way west from the arid wasteland where the mine's exit had deposited them, the desert gave way to wooded grassland as they approached Nashkel once more. It was dawnbreak of the sixth of Mirtul, the end of the fifth night since Gorion's death, and his foster daughter and her new friends had spent a second night camping, amidst the Nottvery Fair carnival as they had the night before the mines.

A small stream bordered the hamlet, and they had gotten only halfway over the sunrise-splashed bridge when a black-cowled figure met them. He was a shortish man, but had his legs flared wide and his hands on his hips in his best attempt to take up the entire bridge.

"Ahem!" the man shouted, as Jade reached over her shoulder for an arrow. Her longbow was already in her hand. "I am Death come for thee. Surrender, and they passage shall be...quicker."

Jade had her arrow notched, her string pulled back, and held it level with the man's hooded face.

"Struggle if you must, dead-one," the man attempted a haughty laugh, but his voice cracked, "I do not mine working for my money. Why NIMBUL has been hired to deal with th-"

Jade's arrow left her bow, sailed into NIMBUL's open mouth, and didn't stop until the feathers were between his lips and the arrowhead stuck out the back of his cowl, blood and a very small quantity of brains dripping from it.

"Pathetic..." was all of Jade's breath the incident was worth. Before NIMBUL's limp body had even hit the ground, Montaron had looted it of magical arrow-dodging boots, another enchanted shortsword, a ring of infravision, and a letter that Jade found very interesting. She held it out to Kagain and Branwen. It read:

Nimbul,

The money you have received from Tranzig should cover your usual fee. Your assignment is a difficult one, but I'm sure that you are up to the task. There should be a group, possibly two, of mercenaries coming through Nashkel in the next few days. One is led by a brunette whelp named Onyx, the other a scarlet-haired lass named Jade. They may be together, but we believe they have divided forces. You are to kill either, and all that travel with them. I warn you, they might not look might much, but they are very dangerous. Good hunting!

TAZOK

"That seals it," Jade sighed unhappily. "Tranzig, Tazok, were the ones behind the mines. So I'm related. But how?" She frowned, scrunching her face angrily. "What did I ever do?" She looked skyward, eyes reddening. She wasn't sure whether to howl in anger and smash apart the bridge, or sit cross-legged upon it and cry.

"I'm sorry," Branwen put an arm around her friend. "You'll have your revenge too." Jade looked to her and sighed.

"Those four Amazonian assassins waiting for us at the mine exit were nearly 'up the task'," Montaron grumbled, his stubby arms full of NIMBUL's loot, "This guy is an insult!"

"As a necromancer," Xzar pouted, "I'm offended by his casual assumption of the mantle of Death. That's my job."

It was well after business hours, but the party proceeded to Berrun Ghastkill's manor in the northeast of town. The mayor was still awake, and Jade presented him with Mulahey's holy symbol, samples of the iron-tainting fluid and a practical demonstration on NIMBUL's hand axe (he, after all, wouldn't be needing them anymore).

"You have returned!" Berrun declared with happy surprise, "It would seem I was right to trust you...."

You didn't 'trust' us Jade thought wryly as she watched the middle-aged but strapping mayor bubble effusively, You expected us to die like the last three. But you're a political, so delay my dinner with smalltalk and lies. I expect it. And my gold.

"...The town thanks you wholeheartedly, and is pleased to give you the proper reward. Please take this 900 gold for your efforts. It is a small fortune by anyone's standards..."

"'specially by mine..." Kagain grumbled quietly into his beard.

"Thank you again! Of course there will be a celebration tomorrow night in your honor and...."

"Mayor Ghastkill," Jade smiled politely, tossing back her scarlet hair, "As much as I appreciate it, we'd...rather not. I'll be frank, but you've probably already heard, seeing as how every two-bit mercenary in these parts has - there's a price on my head, so I'd rather not make any publicly scheduled appearances."

"Oh," Berrun's face fell in genuine surprise. "Are you...wanted for something?"

"Not by the Fist or anyone legitimate," Jade answered thinly, choking back political commentary and not letting her gaze wander to Branwen's platemail, "I...suppose the same elements who wanted the mine shut down aren't happy about me, understandably."

"I see," the mayor frowned. "No good deed goes unpunished, I suppose. I'm terribly sorry. Funny thing, but I heard there was actually a rough incident over at the inn earlier tonight; from what I hear, a mercenary attacking some other band of adventurers who were looking into the mines."

"Oh really?" Jade exchanged glances with Xzar and Montaron. Were you in town, brother? Well, seems I did beat you to the mines after all! Happy hunting! "They still here?"

"Nah," the mayor shook his head, "Ol' Bill - the innkeep - says they headed out this morning. If I see 'em, guess I'll tell 'em not to bother about the mines! Hey wait, miss - you look kinda like one of the fellows – no offense, you know how I mean. Came asking about the mines."

"That's my brother," Jade smiled fondly, her heart warmed by memories, but sinking a bit at having just missed him and dear Imoen, "If you see him again, tell him not to bother, obviously. Tell him I said 'Too slow, big bro!' Tell them I'll be headed for Beregost, he might as well follow suit."

-----

"A profitable first real adventure for me," Jade smiled to her companions, particularly Branwen, as they strode out of Nashkel's general store with more gold and less equipment that they'd entered, "To Beregost and Tranzig then?"

"Yes," Branwen stated, and the others nodded quietly.

As they approached the bridge to leave town, a figure was blindingly visible in the morning sun. He wore a blood-red wizard's robe, which concealed the upper half of his face, but a taut, sour mouth rimmed by a well-trimmed black beard could be seen in the shadow of the cowl.

"Another bridge-assassin?" Jade grumbled, and her group readied weapons.

"Go no further!" The man held up a manicured, ring-laden hand commandingly, speaking in an utterly foreign accent, "I require the services of your group!"

"Forgive me if I'm not the fastest making new friends," Jade yawned, looking down her arrow at the man. "Explain yourself quickly." A red wizard of Thay? she wondered, faintly recognizing the gaudy gold-trimmed red robes from her schooling. What's he doing so far west?

The red-robed man betrayed no fear or surprise and proudly announced, "I am the wizard Edwin Odesserion and I require you. (Yes, that will do nicely). I would have you kill a witch, Dynaheir. She is treacherous, but with your participation I foresee no difficultly. Will you assist?"

"Three questions," Jade posed, lowering her bow, and her allies followed suit. "One. Why do you want her dead? Two. Where is she now? Three. What is our reward?"

Edwin sneered, throwing back his cowl to reveal curly black hair over a bejeweled circlet, and an indigo necklace and ruby amulet around his throat.

"Few of even the southerner females wear so much jewelry," Branwen snickered to Jade. "Or have such long, dainty, carefully manicured fingernails."

"Barbarians with no sense of style!" Edwin snarled at the cleric, and brushed nonexistent dust from his robes. "(One night in this stinking pig-sty of a town has been quite enough for Faerun for me). In my mighty empire, I am the very height of fashion. But to your questions. One. It is no concern of yours. Two. The gnoll stronghold to the west of here, near the coast. Three. The prize I offer would surely be beyond measure in your meager understanding. Either take the job or not!"

Jade yawned. "Not," and motioned for her group to proceed.

The wizard glared at her as she began to cross the bridge, but when he stood astride her, grumbled, "For assuming this venture, I offer you one year of my services. The parlor mages that dog your steps now are nothing compared with a Red Wizard of Thay! You would be foolish to refuse."

At the back of the party, Xzar made a funny face, and Xan sighed dejectedly. Jade grinned inwardly, and stared into Edwin's dark, beady eyes. A Red Wizard? He could be a powerful ally. I do have Xzar and Xan, but something tells me Xan won't last. But an entire year? It suggests either he is outright lying, or this task is important indeed.

"Very well," Jade nodded, and extended a hand to shake with Edwin's, deliberately overpowering him with her grip and staring him down. "My party. My rules. Let's go."

"Back down on your end," Montaron sneered up at his new associate, "And you'll see just how easy a fleeing target that crimson security blanket of an outfit makes you.

"The greasy munchkin can talk," Edwin feigned detached surprise. "How fascinating. Ah..." he lifted a fingernail to his lips, noticing the hair gel the halfling and Xzar wore. "What is that in your hair?....A crude yokel excuse for cosmetics of some sort, no doubt."

"Why, Mister Ed," Xzar yanked a handful of slime-goo from his pocket, pulling back Edwin's gold-trimmed hood and splashing it onto his curly dark hair before the conjurer could protest. "It's Hair Slime!"

Edwin's dark eyes rotated upward, noticing that the remains of the Slime were still slightly animated, and did the hair-styling for the wearer. He looked over Montaron's mohawk, Xzar's wild blonde spikes, and then felt his own curls getting twisted into dashing coils that jutted forward over his forehead. "Acceptable, perhaps," he raised an eyebrow, and gingerly patted the back of his new do.

"The constructs' high magic resistance even renders a degree of protection from bad hair days," Xzar explained.

"More like protection from good hair days," Kagain grumbled, refusing the necromancer's gestured offer to apply some to his beard.

Branwen gave Jade a huff as they strode west, instead of north. The warrior smiled apologetically to the cleric. "Tranzig. Soon."