CHAPTER ONE: THE GORGE

"There it is, the Gorge of Pirzadeh." A great cleft splitting the heavily wooded hills, the fabled gorge had not been easy to find. It was narrow and winding, and no path marked its entrance, only a small creek winding down out of the hills. "I sense evil here," Alhandra said, eyeing the foreboding way ahead, "but it is faint and distant."

Many years ago, Alhandra had been a warm-hearted and compassionate young knight in the church of Trithereon. But too many friends lost in battle and too many years of seeing things no woman should ever have to witness had hardened her heart. The wars had left her with nothing to cling to but her faith. She'd gotten used to sleeping on the hard ground or in cold watchtowers, to living off trail rations and thin wine. Her eyes glittered coldly as she gripped the hilt of her sword.

Beside her, a sturdy dwarf in scale armor tested the edge of his battle axe with his thumb. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

"Let's not be hasty, Tordek," Regdar said, putting a mailed glove on the dwarf's shoulders. The big man had always been a warrior. Once, he had fought only for pay, but he had survived when mercenary companies had come and gone. Now, he was just a fighter, and he looked it. His head was shaven, but he kept a short goatee on his chin. Edged and blunt weapons festooned his belt. His armor was covered in spikes, another weapon he could use to good effect. But his chief implement was the ornate, magical bastard sword sheathed at his back. The Sword of Kings it was called. A noble name, but the sword's lineage meant little to Regdar. "We should send the elf on ahead, to scout, while we wait for the others to catch up."

"Sound advice, Regdar," agreed Soveliss, hefting his elven longbow. "I won't go far, but we want to know exactly what we're getting into." The ranger had the slim build and angular features of his race, but Soveliss was not like most gray elves. He loved the woodlands, but he also sought adventure beyond the eaves of the forest. Since the forces of evil had brought fire and slaughter to his home in the west, he'd waged a never-ending campaign of violence to stamp out the stain of darkness. His wanderings had taken him to many lands, few of them hospitable, but since he'd fallen in with his current companions, he'd finally found a group of comrades he could depend on.

"I don't expect any trouble," the elven ranger said, "but one never knows."

"Don't worry," Regdar said with a grin. "If we hear you yell, we'll come running."

The elf drew the hood of his grey cloak down over his face, and set off into the tangled trees of the gorge. His elven boots made no sound, and he soon disappeared from view.

"Well, since we're waiting here, I might as well make myself at home," Tordek said. He dropped his heavy pack to the dirt and sat down on top of it, leaning his double-headed axe against a tree within easy reach. The dwarf took a small pipe from his belt, stuffed it with some herbs from his pouch, and lit it. Soon, he was relaxed and puffing contentedly.

Alhandra would never relax. She did remove her own pack, though, and lean against a tree. But she kept her eyes on the haunted gorge.

Regdar chuckled, and glanced back the way they had come. "Here they come now."

The last three members of the adventuring band were just coming up the hill, talking quietly. Mialee was an elf-maiden of noble birth, trained in wizardry by some of the finest magic-users of distant Celene. Unlike the rest of her companions, she wore no armor, only the ornate quilted cloth of the High Elves. She carried a mage's staff in her hand, and across her back was slung a quiver containing not arrows but wands, an impressive variety that had saved the party more than once. In a satchel slung over her shoulder, the elven wizardess carried her all-important spell-books. She also kept a mysterious array of magical items in her bag, things which had little meaning to the rest of the party, but which Mialee could sometimes wield with great effect.

Beside her walked Lidda, a halfling of nondescript appearance and a murky reputation. Although she was small, Lidda could be as deadly as any of them, leaping from the shadows with her twin daggers, or hitting an orc's eye from fifty paces with her little crossbow. She wore tight black leather armor, allowing her to move even more silently than Soveliss. Many pouches hung from the belts at her waist and shoulders, every buckle carefully smudged to prevent tell-tale reflections of the light.

With them marched Jozan, a man of Regdar's age, and almost as big. Jozan was a priest of Pelor, the sun-god, and wore the golden disk of his patron diety emblazoned on the tunic atop his chain mail. His blond hair was long, a tradition among Pelor's clergy. A sturdy mace hung from his belt.

"I told you it would be here, Jozan," Mialee said, immediately noticing Soveliss' absence. She caught sight of Tordek sitting on the ground and wrinkled her nose at the reclining dwarf.

Lidda's eyes lit up when she saw the dwarf. She clapped her hands and hit the ground beside him, deftly reaching into her own pack and pulling out a neatly-wrapped package. "The last of my brambleberry tarts," she said, unwrapping it. "I'm famished." Tordek smiled at the halfling beside him as she pulled off her gloves and began eating.

"As soon as Soveliss returns, we'll head up into the gorge," Regdar said. Then, he turned to Mialee. "Now, tell us again what you're expecting to find there."

"This is what the Council of Wizards told me," Mialee began. "The Deck of Many Things is an artifact of fabulous power. It is surprisingly mundane in outward form, having the appearance of a simple deck of playing cards, such as are commonly found in taverns and common rooms across the Flanaess. But each card is imbued with a unique power, which is bestowed instantly and irrevocably upon the one who draws from the Deck. And according to those ancient writings we found, the Deck lies somewhere within this very place," Mialee said. She inclined her head towards the shadowy Gorge of Pirzadeh.

"So, who- or what- made this thing?" Tordek asked.

Mialee shrugged. "The Suloise, the Gods of Chance, the Ur-flan? No one knows. But the Deck is ancient. Tales of it appear in the myths and legends of a dozen lands."

"Perhaps there's more than one?" Lidda asked.

"No," Mialee said. "All the legends say that the Deck is unique."

"The thing sure gets around, then."

"It is likely that one of the powers of the Deck is that, once it is found and used, it vanishes, only to be rediscovered somewhere else."

"Sounds like whoever made the Deck thought it was too much power to be wielded for long by any one person," Regdar said.

"Or else they just had a damned strange sense of humor," Lidda added.

Alhandra, who had so far remained silent, shifted her weight. "I've read tales of this thing as well, from the library at my temple, before it was destroyed. They agreed with all that Mialee has just said. But I have a sense of foreboding. I think we should just let the thing be."

"But think of the honor we would bring, if we did find it," Jozan said. "It has lain here, hidden, for untold years. It only gets discovered once every few centuries, and now we have a chance to claim it and use it." Bringing an ancient artifact to light would certainly earn Jozan the praise of his superiors in the Church of Pelor.

"It would go a long way towards boosting our reputations," Mialee agreed. Being a part of the group which found the Deck of Many Things would almost certainly gain her admittance to the inner circle of the Wizard's Guild.

"Bah," said Tordek. "If I wanted fame, I'd go out and earn it with my axe. Poking around in musty old caves hardly sounds like the way to gain a kingdom, at least among my people. There's got to be something else in it."

"Yeah, like gold, or gems," Lidda added.

Jozan sighed and Mialee shook her head. "The Deck is a powerful artifact," the wizardess said. "Wealth and power are but the least of the things it can bestow."

"It can also bring death, or worse," Alhandra said quietly.

"We risk those things every day," Tordek said. "Count me in."

"Me too," Lidda said.

"What do you think, Regdar? Is it worth the risks?"

The big warrior rubbed his head. Ultimately, the decision was up to him. He knew he would follow Jozan's advice, as he always had, even in times when he thought they were on a fool's errand. What he was most concerned about was the welfare of his companions. He looked at the others. The party had been through many harrowing adventures in the past, and had always emerged victorious, because of their valor and skill and loyalty. "Well, we've tried riskier things," he said at last. "What say you, Alhandra? Will you accompany us?"

The paladin thought for a moment. "You will have my sword."

Regdar turned to face Jozan and Mialee. "Well, I hope you're-"

A birdcall suddenly broke the unnatural silence of the forest. It was a bird not native to those lands, yet it was a sound the adventurers knew well- a signal from Soveliss. The companions instantly became alert. Tordek leapt to his feet, axe in hand, while Lidda seemed to melt into the shadows. Regdar and Alhandra had their hands on their sword hilts.

"Soveliss returns," Regdar said. "And he's found something."

Moments later, the leather-clad elf materialized out of the foliage. He took a knee next to Tordek and leaned on his bow. "There's an encampment of orcs inside the Gorge, with sentries posted on either side," Soveliss reported. "They're definitely guarding the place, but I slipped past them easily enough."

"Did they see you?" Alhandra asked.

The elven woodsman shook his head. "Not a chance."

"Will we be able to surprise them?" Regdar asked.

"Not with you clanking around in all that metal, we won't," Soveliss said with a grin. "But if Lidda and I slip past them first, we can keep them from fleeing further into the Gorge. The rest of you can then attack their main camp."

"How many are there?" Regdar asked.

"Perhaps a dozen, probably fewer."

"Regdar, are you finally becoming cautious?" Tordek asked. "When did a dozen orcs ever give us pause?"

"Never, my friend, you know that. I just don't want to charge into this without a plan."

"I agree," Alhandra said. "But we should strike while the sun is still high, or else wait until tomorrow. The shadows of the Gorge will already act in the orcs favor."

"It is always better to combat evil under the light of the sun," Jozan agreed.

Ever since he'd first seen the entrance to the infamous Gorge, Regdar had felt a growing sense of foreboding. Fighting toe-to-toe on the field of battle had always been his strength, not stealthy raids against ancient, unknown magic. Of all the companions, and all they'd been through, Regdar trusted Jozan the most. The fighter looked to the priest for support more often than he sought his advice. When it came to courtly manners and diplomacy, Regdar was usually at a loss, and he came to rely on Jozan's wisdom. Other times, as in battle, the cleric usually let Regdar go with his instincts. Jozan had at first wondered why the warrior held him in such high regard, but finally just put it down to friendship, and left it at that. The two men had been through a lot together, and always come out mostly unscathed.

"All right," Regdar said. "Soveliss, take Lidda and go up into the Gorge. We'll give you time to get into position, then we'll come in swinging. You'll know it when their guards spot us." Soveliss nodded smartly and got to his feet.

"A quick blessing before we begin our endeavor," Jozan reminded them. Unhooking his mace from his belt, the cleric stood facing the others, his free hand outstretched, and spoke a brief prayer. This ritual had long ago become an established custom for the group before every battle. Whether Pelor's blessings truly brought them divine protection or simply good luck remained a matter of late-night debate around the campfires. Still, everyone in the party had learned the wisdom of submitting to Jozan's blessings- as long as he kept them short.

Soveliss smiled at Lidda. "Come, little one. It is time to hunt. Did you say your prayers along with Jozan?"

The halfling gave the elf an insolent hand signal. Then, she dusted off her hands and replaced her black gloves, checked that her bowstring was sound and that her knives were firmly in their scabbards. With a nod to the elf, the two went stealthily into the forest.

Regdar drew his greatsword from his back. There was no need to test its edge- the magic in the steel kept the blade keen. The edges gleamed faintly in the dappled shadows of the wood. Alhandra drew her sword as well, a shiny broadsword she had taken from the corpse of her mentor long ago. He no longer needed it. She pulled her unadorned shield from her back and strapped it to her arm, whispering a prayer to Trithereon without even thinking about it.

All levity was gone from Tordek's face as he snuffed out his pipe and stuck it back in his belt. Prayer was not something any dwarf liked to do openly, and Tordek rarely discussed moral or religious matters, even with his longtime companions. Yet the others knew that somewhere inside all that armor and gruff exterior was a warm heart, even if it was made of stone, as Tordek insisted. The dwarven fighter looked up at Jozan, who came to stand beside him, and glanced over at Mialee. Tordek had learned long ago that if the party's formidable blades were not enough, it would be up to those two to come down hard on their foes with their magic. Despite the fact that Tordek was not particularly fond of either human priests or elven wizards, here was a pair he'd vowed to watch out for. The dwarf always kept an eye on his friends.

After a while, Regdar guessed that Soveliss and Lidda had had enough time to slip up into the Gorge undetected. "All right," he said. "It's time to head out."