Chapter Two: The Red Wizard
"Orela Vash?" the gruff voice rumbled in my ears. But there was something strange about it; I could sense something in it when it was so close to me, something unnatural.
"That is my name," I said curtly, trying not to speak and entice the blade any further into my flesh. I felt the muscular arm of the barbarian shrink, very slowly, as it tightened its grip on my neck. I watched the red robe form on the arm that wielded the dagger as the rain drenched my already warn clothes. My blood began to boil at the sight of the crimson cloth. It was a polymorph spell.
"Of course," I hissed. "You disguised yourself as a barbarian from the South. You knew I would never believe that a man from Rashamen would be one of you."
"I did." That voice. That drawling, oily voice of the Red Wizard from my past. He had found me, after all these years of running from the Zhentarim, he had found me.
"How did you—?" I asked softly, getting cut off half way from the pain in my neck, the water drenching us in the dark. The wizard laughed, pulling the blade inward and letting a few drops of my blood mingle with the rain.
"Floating cities do not fall from the sky on their own, young lady," he whispered. "Not to mention your epic tale was poorly written." I cursed Deekin under my breath. I missed the foolish Kobold, truth be told, but I knew that his "Epic Tale" was going to get me in more trouble than it was worth.
"I will not help the Zhentarim again. Though I would MUCH rather die by the Feather of Truth."
"I will not kill you just—what?"
"Deekin sees you nasty man! And he has big army of people to defend Boss!" came a voice from the trees. The wizard laughed a high-pitched hiss that echoed into the forest.
"So the kobold lives," he muttered. "Then show yourself and this army you speak of!" The distraction was just long enough. The wizard would have very few protection spells because of the polymorph, and from how long he'd been in the form of the burly barbarian. And he hadn't seen me in years; I was a different person now, and more attuned to my true powers. I summoned the magic in my sequencer cloak, feeling the tingling sensation of the magic before it spread out from behind me. The cone of cold hit the wizard with enough force to throw us both back against the trees behind us, and luckily his dagger did not move. I quickly undid the clasp of my cloak, slipping underneath the frozen arm with the dagger and running back into my magical light. The Red Wizard was completely frozen.
"Thank the Gods for magical, unattractive clothing," I muttered, quickly casting a few holding spells on the frozen wizard as he began to thaw.
"Time to leave, Mor!" I yelled. The raven flew out of the tree he was hiding in, landing on the staff that I had just procured from my bottomless bag of holding. "Excellent Deekin voice by the way. I suppose you heard my signal then?" He nodded his ebony head, clearly proud of himself.
"The Feather of Truth! Aye, that's me. Though I thought that I lied more than told the truth?" He cawed.
"And that is the Irony in it, my friend," I muttered, packing up our few meager supplies and throwing them into my bag (pulling a few pieces of meat out to give to Mor for the excellent performance). I tied our wizard friend to a tree along the path just as the morning sun began to shine through the canopy.
"Off we go again, then," I said, checking my knots before starting down the path towards Waterdeep.
"Doom! Doom DOOM DOOM!" Mor shouted in his best Deekin voice, cocking his head at me mischievously as we continued down the path. I gave him a steely glare, arching one dark eyebrow and glaring at him with dark gray eyes. He stopped immediately and cawed a laugh.
"Ha! I am sorry Mistress Orela, I could not help myself. Though for a human you give a very frightening look. I think I may have wet myself."
"You're a bird, Mor. You wet yourself all the time, wherever you want," I scoffed. He looked at me from the end of my staff curiously, as if he'd never thought of it that way before, and fluffed himself into a black ball of feathers.
"Hmm, quite true. Though I do wonder what happened to our Kobold friend, speaking of incontinence…" he added softly.
"I do too, Mor. I do too."
The path widened before us; our way to Waterdeep was clear. The wizard would be out cold before the next night, when he would most likely return to the Zhentarim to tell them what a nasty person I had become. A ray of sun was shining on us as we walked, warming our spirits as well as ourselves. If we didn't gain enough of a fortune from Undermountain, we would undoubtedly find work in Waterdeep. They were calling for heroes, yes, but they were getting a mediocre sorceress and her loud-mouthed raven.
