The Forest of Dreams stretched lazily along the western side of the Kings Highway. Travelers generally avoided the forest, chancing at shortcut through its outskirts only during the day. There were tales of creatures which roamed the forest at night, gory enough to keep normal folk away. Rangers occasionally attempted to explore the deeper parts of the forest, and it was not surprising if a few did not return.
The warrior, cultist and priestess moved cautiously through the dense undergrowth. Yellow Sky kept his spirits up by singing a silly song to himself while Gameth surveyed their surroundings, one hand constantly gripped on the hilt of his sword. The bright sunlight failed to fully penetrate the thick, broad leaves of the forest trees, casting everything around them in a somewhat hazy light. Perhaps this was how the forest gained it's name, thought Lydith. Everything looks like it's in a dream.
Several hours past morning, the little group decided to stop for a rest under a large tree. A slight wind blew, causing the leaves and branches to stir in a whispering rustle. Yellow Sky lay back on the mossy tree trunk, his hands behind his head. "Yellow Sky loves this place," he remarked. "People say that the most wondrous dreams come to he who sleeps in this forest."
"And they'll probably be the last dreams he'll ever have," grunted Gameth as he tore a piece of dried rations. "This forest is infested with colonies of giant spiders. We'll be lucky if we don't run into any of their hunting grounds."
A chitter sounded from the tree branches above and the trio looked up. Yellow Sky laughed when he saw a squirrel peering down at them from the lower branches. He tore a small piece of bread and threw it up. The squirrel ran to retrieve it as it landed somewhere up in the branches. "See? Even the forest creatures love Yellow Sky."
"You don't gain love and respect through bribery," said Gameth as the squirrel scampered back and chittered imploringly at Yellow Sky for another morsel.
Yellow Sky grinned as he tore another piece of bread. "Why not? The Sovereign gives out rewards for actions, yes?"
"Pah! That's different! Those rewards are just incentives to.."
An arrow struck the tree trunk inches above Yellow Sky's head. Gameth leapt up, sword already in his hand. "Take cover!" he yelled as he stood protectively in front of Lydith.
More arrows flew into the small clearing and struck around the group. One grazed Gameth on the arm who ignored it as he scanned the nearby bushes for the offending archers. Yellow Sky dived and rolled on the ground as several arrows landed on his previous resting place. He rolled into a crouch, a small throwing dagger in his hand. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," he crooned at his unseen archers.
The arrows stopped and a few figures emerged from the bushes and rushed at the trio. Black leather armour scraped against green skin as the attackers ran towards the warrior and cultist. "Blasted goblins!" bellowed Gameth as he parried a blow from the lead goblin which seemed larger than the rest.
Yellow Sky whooped as he threw his dagger at another goblin, striking it in the chest. The creature gawked at the small blade and started to pull it out. As it looked up, another three daggers joined their compatriot in the goblin's chest and neck. With a gurgling choke, the goblin fell face-forward on the ground.
Lydith looked around at the goblins. There were at least four sword-wielding goblins, excluding the one Yellow Sky just disposed of. And the archers in the bushes would not hesitate to finish the job if their goblin warriors failed to kill them. Gameth and Yellow Sky will never find them in time, unless.. She focused her eyes and started to chant.
The goblin champion leader snarled as it slashed it's wicked blade at the aged warrior. Gameth parried the slash again and struck out with a series of well-executed sword thrusts. Stepping backwards to avoid the blows, the goblin champion's eyes widened as it realised that the human was still very deadly despite his age. It jabbered at the other two goblins which leapt forward to attack Gameth from both sides. The warrior lunged right, directly towards one of the goblins which hastily brought up it's blade to defend itself. Too late. The goblin blade scored a minor scratch on the warrior's shoulder as Gameth ran his sword through the goblin's guts. The creature screamed as it fell on the ground twitching.
Another goblin cornered the cultist at the tree. Yellow Sky shrieked in seeming terror and ran sideways around the trunk of the large tree. The goblin sneered as it raced after him, only to find that the cultist had disappeared. A look of confusion passed the goblin's face. Suddenly, the bark of the tree lunged at the goblin and a dagger appeared through it's chest. The creature gaped and fell as the grinning cultist's skin changed from tree bark texture back to normal.
The two hidden goblin archers glanced at one another as they observed the skirmish turn against their fellow goblins. They raised their bows, ready to correct the situation, when a dark shadow fell over them. Looking up, they saw the first slain goblin standing over them with a red glow emitting from it's eyes. Death magic radiated from the undead creature like a red heat shimmer, rapidly decaying the lifeless flesh and leaving gaunt bone behind. The remaining shreds of facial skin remained expressionless as the skeleton unmercifully slashed it's previous comrades over and over again.
Gameth attacked the goblin champion ferociously as the other goblin suddenly found itself battling another goblin skeleton with guts staining it's trousers. The goblin chopped fearfully at the undead, all intentions on attacking Gameth abandoned.
With another snarl, the goblin champion swung a downward slash that would have split the warrior's arm off if Gameth had not dodged out of the way. The warrior swiftly took advantage of the goblin's open position and chopped at it's neck. A look of surprise remained on the goblin champion's face as the head spun in the air and landed at the foot of the tree. A shriek sounded and Gameth looked to see the last goblin being dismembered by it's undead opponent.
Yellow Sky dropped next to the goblin champion's head. "Good fight," he grinned as he kicked the head into the bushes. He looked around happily. "No dirty goblins in this forest when Yellow Sky is here!"
Gameth grimaced and looked around for Lydith. She was standing some ways back, a look of intense concentration on her face. The two undead goblin skeletons lurched slowly towards her and stood before the priestess. A wordless conversation seemed to pass between them.
Lydith raised her hands. "Thank you, and farewell." The two skeletons toppled to the ground, the red glow from their eyes extinguished. Lydith looked at the warrior. "Gameth, get the shovels."
"Fervus's Mask! Why you do that for?!?" exclaimed the cultist in surprise. "Those skeletons were useful!"
"Here, catch." Gameth threw a portable shovel at the cultist who caught it by reflex.
"What are we supposed to do with this!?" demanded the little cultist, waving the tool as if it offended him.
He thought he saw a slight smile on Lydith's lips. "One should always respect the things one works with, even if it involves chopping them down," the priestess replied mysteriously.
Yellow Sky frowned. "What?"
Gameth gave a huge laugh. "You know, I said the exact same thing to her mother. Come on, let's get this over with - it'll get dark soon."
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"Come along, child. It'll be best to make it to Deepen Dale before nightfall."
Lydith struggled to adjust her heavy backpack and followed her aunt who carried a backpack even larger than hers. Despite being a middle-aged woman, Aunt Daedra walked with a tireless stride that occasionally left the younger girl trailing behind. They had been walking for almost a day along the forest road that led to the trading post town of Deepen Dale. From there, Aunt Daedra estimated that it would take another three to four days on foot to get to Necroselleum. Lydith wiped the sweat off her brow. This was just the first day of travelling and she could not imagine how exhausted she would be once they have reached their destination.
Megan had left two weeks ago with the rest of the Daurosians and paladin recruits. Lydith did not see them off; she would not give Sharielle another opportunity to gloat at her. Megan understood and had said her good byes to Lydith the night before.
The days after had been spent with Aunt Daedra. Over the time they spent talking to each other while doing the household chores, Aunt Daedra slowly became her listener and counselor. The recent visit by the Daurosian recruiters had stirred up feelings inside of Lydith, fanning her long-time urge to leave the village and see the world. She found herself asking her aunt more and more questions about her mother and eventually about the Ways of Krypta.
Aunt Daedra had been honest and direct with her. "Child, if your sudden interest in the Ways of Krypta is triggered by your urge to leave this place like Megan and Sharielle, then you will not last long in the Convent of Krypta," she had told her firmly. "Becoming a priestess is not an easy process. It is a difficult ordeal, one which even I almost never got through if it weren't for the encouragement I had from your mother. And being a priestess is not just all travelling and seeing the world; there are heavy responsibilities involved in doing Krypta's work."
Seeing the discouragement in the girl's eyes, Aunt Daedra put an arm over Lydith's shoulders and spoke softly, "Krypta's ways are strange to many, child. I cannot predict Her path for you, but you must think deeply on the choices you make for your own future. Find out what is truly in your heart and follow it."
Lydith pondered over Aunt Daedra's words for the next few days, trying to work out the tangled feelings she had within her. Finally, she made up her mind and told her father about her decision to follow Aunt Daedra to Necroselleum.
Tomas was quiet after her announcement; for some strange reason, Lydith felt that it had not come as a surprise to him. He then just nodded and gave her a hug. "Your mother and I are proud of you, dear one," he had spoken into her ear. "Take care, and be wary of whom you trust."
Lydith wondered at the last few words her father had spoken. She had never known him to be the suspicious type and those words almost sounded like a warning of some danger he already knew.
"Here we are, child. Deepen Dale." Aunt Daedra pointed down at a bustling town that now lay before them.
Lydith stared at the first town she had ever laid her eyes upon. Compared to her small village in the woods, Deepen Dale seemed huge. The trading post town bustled with wagons bearing goods such as leathers and furs, dried meats and casks of sour wine, even logs of wood. Lydith wondered if any of those wagons had come from ThistleWood. "Do you always stop by here when you come visit us, Aunt Daedra?"
Aunt Daedra shook her head. "No, I normally don't stop here. I just keep going and sleep in the forest if need be. But for your sake," she said while eyeing the exhausted girl, "I think it would be wiser to have a hot bath and one night's rest in a comfortable bed."
Lydith almost kissed her aunt's feet at that.
The two travellers entered the town and was almost completely lost in the crowded narrow streets. Eventually, Aunt Daedra spotted a fair-sized inn near the center of town and made for it. A sign bearing a bear's paw mark swung placidly above the inn's door. As they both entered the inn, Lydith saw that the taproom was half-crowded with people. The smell of pipeweed filled the air while the sounds of talking and laughter, although not deafening, required one to raise his voice to be heard.
The innkeeper, a portly man with an apron, smiled broadly at them as they approached him. "Welcome to the Hellbear's Paw-" he began before his eyes suddenly widened upon the recognition of Aunt Daedra's robes.
"A room for two, innkeeper," said Aunt Daedra unperturbed. "With a bathtub of hot water, if possible."
It took several seconds for the innkeeper to regain his composure. "Ahm," he coughed. "Yes, of course, Sister." Lydith noticed that his face had turned slightly paler.
"I think we will have our meals before we adjourn to our room," Aunt Daedra continued. She turned to Lydith. "Are you hungry, child?"
Lydith nodded. "I'm famished."
The innkeeper nodded, a tad too vigorously. "Two meals. Right you are, Sister." The man promptly disappeared into the kitchen, not even showing the two to an empty table.
Aunt Daedra gave an irritated huff. "Appalling service, this place," she declared to no one in particular as they made their way to an empty table.
Lydith sat down and pulled closer to talk to Aunt Daedra under her breath. "Aunt Daedra, I don't think it's such a good idea to be here."
Aunt Daedra glanced around and spotted some of the inn's patrons staring at them, several of them unfriendly. "You may be right, child. Make sure that.."
"We don't like your kind here," growled a rough voice suddenly.
The two looked up to see a gaunt man with a scarred face looming over their table. The inn grew noticeably quieter as the taproom's patrons stopped to observe the spectacle.
"We have no business here, young man," replied Aunt Daedra with a steely gaze. "We're leaving at first light tomorrow."
"Damned priestess scum," sneered the man. "I said, we don't like your kind here. Get your rotting hides out of here before I throw you out."
"That would not be wise, young man," said Aunt Daedra calmly.
The man put his hands on his waist. "What will you do? Drain my life out, you vampire witches? Go on, show everyone what hell-spawned tricks you have."
"She needn't do anything, friend," came another voice behind the scarred man. "Because I most definitely will."
The man spun around. A warrior stood before him with a dark brown travelling cloak that almost hid his sword and armour. Lydith could see that the warrior was rather advanced in his years, streaks of gray touched the sides of his brown hair.
"I would have thought that the men in this town had better manners towards women." The aged warrior stood in an easy stance, but Lydith sensed that the warrior could spring into action in a moment's notice.
"Are you a priestess's dog then, old man?", the scarred man sneered. "Come on, show me how a priestess's dog fights." He swung a fist at the warrior's face. The warrior ducked and grabbed the man's fist with one hand. The scarred man gasped as he was pulled forwards and slammed face-first against the taproom bar-counter. The aged warrior bent down till both their eyes met.
"I have friends who would have smashed your thick skull into a bloody pulp against this counter," he growled. "Be thankful that I'm considerate enough to know that the innkeeper would not appreciate the mess. But try that again, and the innkeeper will be spending the night scraping your scarred face off from here." He let the man go. The scarred man slid down on the floor, scrambled to his feet and made for the door, the crowd parting to let him through.
The warrior watched the man's exit. "He won't be back," he said as he turned to sit down at the table. The rest of the taproom's patrons slowly went back to their own business.
Lydith stared at the warrior as he and Aunt Daedra looked at each other. "What are the chances that we'd bump into each other, Daedra?" the aged warrior spoke as a grin broke out on his face. "It must be a meeting pre-arranged by the gods themselves."
"Hmmph, I must have irked Krypta for Her to arrange me to meet you again, Gameth," replied Aunt Daedra.
The aged warrior's grin did not falter. He looked over at Lydith. "And who is this young lady travelling with you?"
Before Lydith could answer, Aunt Daedra answered, "The child's name is Lydith. She's Lydia's daughter."
At the mention of Lydith's mother, Gameth's expression changed to one of surprise and then intrigue. "Lydia was your mother?" he asked. "Then I am honoured to be in her daughter's presence. Sir Gameth IronEdge at your service, young lady."
"You knew my mother?" Lydith asked in surprise.
Gameth gave a slight nod. "We travelled together for a while, your mother, Daedra and me. Had a couple of adventures together, if I must say."
"Most of which involved us getting you out of trouble, if I must recall," said Aunt Daedra dryly. "For a warrior, you seemed to attract more trouble than a troupe of cultists."
"Ah, the folly of youth," reminisced Gameth. "That was then. Years have stolen much of my brashness. Especially after several years of patrolling the southern borders and skirmishing with the snake spawn." He shook his head at some memory. "Not anymore, however, thank the gods."
"So you've been recalled to the city?"
"Aye. And after a few days of staying in the Warrior's Guild, I felt the urge to travel again and thought I'd head south to visit the forest trading post towns and here I am."
Aunt Daedra narrowed her eyes. "What a coincidence then," she said in an unconvinced tone.
Gameth gave out a loud laugh. "A suspicious woman as always, Daedra." He turned to Lydith. "For your information, despite the resentment Daedra here seems to have for me, your mother and I got along very well back in those days."
"A bit too well, if I wasn't there," cut-in Aunt Daedra sharply.
Gameth coughed and looked slightly embarrassed. "Here now, Daedra - the child doesn't need to know about all that."
Lydith was going to prompt the warrior with a question about her mother when a movement at the Inn's entrance caught her eye. The scarred man had returned, with several other men. The group occupied an empty table at the other end of the taproom and glared malevolently at them. "Aunt Daedra," said Lydith while prompting her to look.
Aunt Daedra spotted the group. "It looks like you're losing your edge, Sir IronEdge. Our unhappy acquaintance is back, with some of his friends."
Gameth turned and spied the group of men. He grunted and then turned back. "I suppose it would be best not to stay over this town and invite more trouble," conceded the warrior. "Come, I know a good, safe place to camp in the forest. Definitely more hospitable than this sewer hole."
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The clearing Gameth brought them to was definitely more hospitable than the Hellbear's Paw in Deepen Dell. A fresh-water spring gurgled amidst a small enclosure of trees which partly shaded the sky. The three broke out their bedrolls and settled down for dinner as the day slowly faded into dusk. Aunt Daedra brought out the food that she and Lydith had been carrying - a slab of cured ham with loaves of bread and some fruits.
Gameth surveyed their supplies and tut-tutted to himself.
"What's wrong, Gameth?" asked Aunt Daedra as she handed Lydith an apple. "Expected to see some special delicacies from two travelling women?"
"What? No, no - just wondering if you two wanted to share some of my food."
"We're perfectly happy with our own food, thank you very much," replied Aunt Daedra as she turned her attention to slicing up the slab of ham.
Lydith thought she saw a sly twinkle in the warrior's eye as he opened his backpack and brought out more bread and biscuits along with a large package tied with a string.
"What's that?" asked Lydith as she bit into her apple.
Gameth grinned and started to open the package. "This? Oh, it's just something that I've been saving up for a special occasion and I guess this marks such an occasion." He opened the package and took out the most fabulous cheese cake Lydith had ever seen. Aunt Daedra stopped mid-slice, her eyes on the cake as well.
"Cost me quite a bit, but I thought it was worth the money," continued the warrior as he sliced a piece of the cake. "Made exclusively by the elven bakers of Fervus Street. Of course, if your Aunt Daedra insists on sticking to your rations, then I guess I'll have to eat it all by myself." Gameth innocently bit into his slice of cheese cake.
"You are an evil man, Gameth," said Aunt Daedra in a low and dangerous voice. Her eyes did not shift from the cheese cake beside the warrior.
"I come from an evil city," admitted Gameth as he took another bite.
"I will not beg for a measly piece of cake from an old, miserable lout like you," stated the priestess defiantly.
"Suit yourself," said Gameth. He finished his slice of cheese cake and sighed in contentment. "I'd blame the Fervus Street bakers if I were you. Damn elves make the cheese so smooth you can't hardly appreciate the walnut biscuit base."
Lydith watched in amusement as Aunt Daedra shut her eyes and pursed her lips firmly. After a moment, she opened them and looked at Lydith. "Pass me the cake, Lydith," she finally said in a tone that commanded no mirth. "And hit that man if he tries to stop you."
Lydith obediently took the cake and passed it over to her aunt as Gameth stretched himself and lay back with victorious grin on his face.
The next few days passed in a repetitive routine. They walked along the roads during the day and camped in the forest at night. Gameth seemed to know almost every clearing in the area, despite his comments about not having been around the area for several years.
Finally, on the third night, Aunt Daedra told Lydith that they would reach Necroselleum by the next day. Gameth had chosen to set up camp in a small clearing hidden from the road. After a well-cooked dinner, the priestess and girl settled down in their bedrolls.
Lydith found herself unable to sleep. The thoughts of finally seeing the fabled city of Krypta, and that she was going to be initiated into the Convent of Krypta, played in her mind. She turned in her bedroll and spotted the warrior sitting nearby. Gameth had volunteered to take the first watch and sat on a log facing out towards the forest. Lydith got out of her bedrolls and walked towards him. Although she hardly made any noise, the warrior turned slightly at her approach. "What are you doing up, Lydith?" asked Gameth in a friendly but low voice.
"I couldn't sleep," said Lydith as she sat next to the warrior.
Gameth shifted over to make more room for her. "Then you can keep me company for a while."
They both sat next to each other on the log, staring into the shadows of the surrounding trees. "Tell me about my mother," asked Lydith suddenly.
Gameth glanced briefly at the girl. "What do you want to know, Lydith? Aunt Daedra or your father would have told you a lot about her by now."
"Yes," Lydith affirmed. "But I'd still like to hear about her from other people who knew her when she was younger. Like you."
Gameth stretched as he thought back. "Ah, well. Your mother was a rare one. She and your Aunt Daedra were closer than sisters. I found her to be the quiet and careful one, not at all like your Aunt Daedra who was a bit more feisty." The warrior grinned at that reference to Aunt Daedra. "Oh yes, and they were both quite inseparable. I'd imagine that Lydia's passing must have caused a great deal more grief to her than she'd shown."
"How was my mother as a priestess?" queried Lydith.
The aged warrior paused in thought. "As a priestess, I must say that your mother was very much different from the others. Normally, I can't stand priestesses. They'd come out of their Temple with a string of undead following them, ordering them around to do their slightest whim. I suspect it's a game to them, who can control the most undead at any time. However, your mother wasn't like that at all. For one, she never had any undead following her around. Said that the undead would prefer to remain dead. Other priestesses sometimes mocked her beliefs but surprisingly, they'd keep out of her way. Guess they were careful because of your mother's ability to raise impressive numbers of undead."
"But I thought you said she didn't raise any undead."
"No, I said that she didn't have any following her around - but she could raise them. And by Krypta, could she do so. Your Aunt Daedra can do her fair share of raising, but your mother had a talent that I'd never seen before. I remember one time when we went to investigate the lack of caravans coming in from the east and we came across a minatour's stronghold. We were attacked before we could get away and your mother raised so many undead that they were crawling all over the stronghold like ants. And her undead weren't stupid either - I saw several co-ordinate themselves into battalions like veteran soldiers and charge at a group of minatours."
Gameth's eyes gleamed at the memory. "After the battle, it took us two full days to bury them. Another one of your mother's strange habits, she dispelled the undead as soon as she could and insisted that every one of them got a decent burial." The aged warrior grinned as he stared out into the trees. "I can still remember the looks on the guildmasters' faces when we returned from that adventure. Couldn't believe that a minatour's stronghold could have been taken out by a mere threesome. And the priestesses wrote off my account of the matter as a delusion caused by beserking."
"Which is also probably responsible what little brains you have left," came Aunt Daedra's voice from behind them. The warrior looked back at Aunt Daedra who now stood behind them. "Good evening, my dear Daedra," said Gameth with seeming charm. "The girl couldn't sleep so we're having a small chat. I thought recounting a few war-stories would make her drop off straight away."
Aunt Daedra pursed her lips. "How very considerate of you, Gameth." She turned to Lydith. "Come, child. You'd better get as much sleep as you can. Tomorrow, we'll reach Necroselleum and it will be a long day initiating you into the Convent." Lydith nodded obediently and got up to return to her bedroll.
"And Gameth," said Aunt Daedra to the warrior. "I do not appreciate being referred to as 'feisty'."
Gameth winced as the priestess and girl returned to their bed-rolls.
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The shadows of the nearby trees grew longer as dusk settled over the small woodcutters' village. Tomas hefted his axe over his shoulder with one hand while his other hand pulled a rope secured around a small log which he dragged over the ground towards his house. Grunting as he strained to pull the log, he made his way to the side of the house where the rest of the wood was stored. After depositing it next to a neatly stacked row of firewood, he untied the rope, coiled and hung it on a nail on the side wall.
Tomas casually gripped his axe in one hand and walked to the front porch of the house. He stepped in front of the door and bent down to push a heavy block of stone away from the foot of the door which was normally wedged there to hinder thieving pests from breaking in. Last summer, a family of weasels had broken in and helped themselves to the larder. After he and Lydith had chased the lot off, Tomas swore that he would skin the next weasel, squirrel or any other woodland creature that came close to the house and nail it's hide on the door as a gruesome warning to other hungry unwanted guests. So far, he had not managed to fulfill this sacred pledge.
That's funny, he thought. The stone was already pushed away to one side. Tomas straightened up and scratched his head. Must be getting old. He pulled the door open and stepped into the house. The interior of the house was dark, the fading sunlight had long left the rooms.
A noise clattered from the kitchen. Damned weasels, thought Tomas as he strode towards the sound. Suddenly, a blow landed on the back of his neck. Tomas dropped his axe and fell face forward on the floor.
"Good one, Krut," came a voice from the kitchen.
"Ach, this was a tough one. I think he almost dented the hilt of my dagger."
Tomas lay on the floor groaning. The back of his head flared with pain, he had almost lost consciousness but he adamantly held on to the waking world. Voices spoken in a twanging accent sounded above him. For some reason, Tomas thought they sounded familiar.
"Who's this, then? Definitely not the girl."
"Maybe her father or her keeper. Let me take a look at him." A shadow passed over Tomas's face. "Ye gods! It's Tomas the Taker!"
"Tomas the wh-.. you mean the Tomas the Taker!?"
"Stop gaping like an idiot, man; he's still awake! Hit him again!"
A sharp kick to side of Tomas's head re-introduced him to the world of pain and darkness more effectively.