14th Day of Coldeven, 565 CY
Highport, The Pomarj
Talass covered her ears with her hands, but it didn't stop the noise.
She knew it wouldn't; it wasn't the first time she had tried it. There seemed to be nothing for it but to try to ignore the tumult. The roars and shouts of what had to be several hundred humans and humanoids outside the temple walls had started perhaps twenty minutes after her husband and the others had descended below ground. They had all rushed to the various doors that led outside, but they were still barred. Talass, suspicious that they had not been broken down yet (indeed, the mob outside was pounding on them even then), had cast a prayer of detect magic.
All the exits had been wizard locked.
Not only that, but the caster of the spell had been powerful. Vastly more powerful than either Cygnus or Zantac.
Talass let her hands fall back to her side and leaned against the side of the crypt, where she was currently standing guard. As the party's only cleric, all agreed that the cemetery was the most logical position for her. Yet, she thought ruefully, certain people were probably just as glad to be rid of her for a while.
People like Cygnus, for instance.
Talass had finally told the others of her vision. Zantac did not seem terribly concerned, Talass noted. Whether that was because he was not a believer in (or even familiar with) Asgardian gods, or because as a late addition to the party, he figured he was not included in the dream's warning, was unknown to Talass.
Argo had bit her lip and glanced over at his wife, then resumed his normal carefree expression when she had turned to him. Caroline seemed thoughtful for a while, but soon shrugged off any concerns. Or at least had appeared to.
Tojo, as anyone would have bet hard coin on, had shown no reaction whatsoever.
Cygnus, on the other hand…
"Not coming back?" the mage had said, disbelievingly.
Talass merely stared at him.
The color was rising in Cygnus' cheeks. "And was there a particular reason why you chose to keep this little tidbit of information from us until after we had left, Talass?"
Talass did not back down. "We had already been commanded to appear before King Belvor, Cygnus. Would you have sworn fealty to His Majesty and then disobeyed his commands, all because of my vision?"
Cygnus, his mouth set in a tight line, leaned closer to the cleric.
"I could have chosen not to go to Chendl in the first place."
Talass gave him a skeptical sneer. "And risked imprisonment? Losing all you've gained?"
Cygnus paused. "And what does Thorin lose if I'm the one who doesn't make it back?"
Talass hesitated and then dropped her eyes to the ground. When she looked up, Cygnus was pantomiming removing a crown from his head and placing it on hers.
"Congratulations, my lady," the wizard said, his face a mask of false admiration. "I cede my crown to you. The king is dead. Long live the Queen of Manipulation!"
Talass had opened her mouth to argue when the noise began.
It was a combination of crashes, shouts, yells; the sounds of an angry crowd. It swiftly grew louder.
"They're rushing the temple!" Zantac cried.
Argo whirled. "We need to get to a defensible position if they break in! Come on!"
Caroline shot a glance at the ten slaves, who were now mostly cowering and crying. "Argo, what about them? Weren't we supposed to follow the others if they breached the temple?"
Argo gave his wife a sad look. "We couldn't bring them down there with us, my love, and if we fall, it really doesn't matter where in the temple they are."
With that, the ranger was running towards the inner doors. The rest soon followed.
When they reached them however, it was soon clear that their enemy had not yet reached them. The party cautiously opened the doors, then checked out the outer doors, the stables and then the guard post. Those doors were indeed being battered but seemed to be holding up remarkably well.
Talass' announcement of what her detect magic revealed surprised everyone.
"Someone helping us out?" Zantac mused. "Who, and why?"
"And more importantly, why aren't our enemies just climbing over the walls?" asked Caroline.
Argo, standing back in the cemetery, motioned for the others. "Come here, people. Listen."
They did, and listened. Among the general uproar outside, they could hear specific sounds. It sounded like people were coming right up to the wall- and then being hurled away from it.
Cygnus arched an eyebrow. "Not that I'm not grateful, but if someone that powerful is protecting us, I'd just as soon he show himself and use magic to transport us all away from here."
"Maybe he's waiting for Elrohir and the others to return first." Talass offered.
Cygnus had no reaction at first. Then he turned his head to seemingly address Argo, but Talass knew the magic-user was looking at her from the corner of his eye.
"Well, if that's the case, let's hope all of them come back."
Talass' face grew red. She took a step towards Cygnus and was about to let loose when Argo unexpectedly did it for her. The ranger strode right up to the wizard.
"Cygnus- shut the hell up."
The mage gaped at Argo. He hadn't expected that from Bigfellow. Without taking his eyes off Cygnus, Argo pointed at Talass.
"You know what, Cygnus? I actually agree with you. I think Talass should have told us about her vision before we left. But she didn't, so that's where we stand. Retirement is a thing of the past now whether you like it or not, half of our party has been gone for three hours now with no sign of their imminent return, my body has more holes in it than my boots do, and our only, I repeat only chance for survival is for us to pretend like everything is absolutely perfect between us, and we will all get out of this in one piece, or none of us will. You comprehend my language, Cygnus?"
The magic-user stared at Argo for a while. His expression slowly settled down to normal, and then he arched an eyebrow at the ranger. A slight smile crossed his lips.
"Very logical… Aslan."
Argo raised an eyebrow back, and then Bigfellow's face broke into his legendary pained smile.
"Well, there's no reason to be insulting, Cygnus."
Talass looked around the cemetery again and frowned. Everyone else was at his or her assigned guard post. The cleric, who originally had no doubts that Elrohir and the others would return, was starting to wonder. What if-
Suddenly, Talass whirled around, facing the crypt door.
She had heard a noise from within.
The priestess cocked her head, listening. There was no doubt about it. In spite of the clamor outside, she could hear the sounds of footsteps, slowly getting louder.
Talass yelled for the others, then stepped back, brandishing her holy symbol in one hand, and her war hammer in the other. Just as she did, the massive stone door slowly began to open. Talass saw who was on the other side…
...and screamed.
"WAIT! WHAT! WHAT?" WHAT IS IT?"
Elrohir flung his arms upward, dropping both Gokasillion and his shield. He had been surprised to find his wife on the other side of the crypt door, but nearly as surprised as he had been when she had shrieked at his appearance and thrust her holy symbol out at him. Her cry of alarm had set off the slaves behind them, and many wails and shouted exclamations were now wafting up from the staircase.
"Talass! It's me, Elrohir! What's wrong?"
Aslan and Nesco slowly came out from behind Elrohir, staring in wonder at the cleric, whose face was now moving from horror to embarrassment. Her husband picked up his dropped items and then took one careful step closer to her.
"Talass," he asked in a tone of wonder. "Were you trying to turn me?"
Her expression gave the ranger his answer. He realized then how awful they must look, covered with blood and innumerable wounds. A wry glance at Aslan confirmed his suspicions. He really couldn't blame Talass, though. Truth be told, they weren't all that far from death.
Embarrassment was but a short stop to irritation to Talass, as it so often was.
"Where did you come from?"
Elrohir gestured behind him as everyone slowly moved out into the cemetery. Many of the slaves were reluctant to do so, hearing the commotion outside the walls, but Sarkos prodded them on from behind.
"That leads down to the Slave Lord's lair. That fellow," he gestured at the man being very carefully guarded by Nesco.
Talass' eyes took in all the new arrivals, then flickered back to her husband. "Did you find a way out of the temple grounds?" she asked.
Aslan grimaced. "We found a secret passage, my good lady," the paladin stated and then jerked his thumb back over his shoulder. "Unfortunately, that was it." He looked around with concern. "What's that noise? Are they getting ready to storm the temple?"
Talass gestured to the others running up that everything was all right. "Come on back to the main chamber," she told Elrohir and the others. "Let's fill each other in."
An hour at most had passed. Despite the clamor outside, everyone was talking in low voices. This was in deference to Aslan, who lay on a bedroll. The paladin's armor, or what was left of it, was piled beside him.
Aslan was trying to sleep or at least rest long enough to gain just one teleport with his Talent. The plan was once that was done, he would transport himself and Zantac back to the Brass Dragon and sleep there until he was back at full strength and the wizard had recovered all of his spells. Thus refreshed, they would return.
This assumed of course, that the rest of the party was still alive. Still, it was unanimously considered the best option available to them all.
Nesco sat on the floor a few feet from Aslan, her knees drawn up to her chest and her head resting sideways on her knees. She silently watched as the paladin groaned, slipping in and out of consciousness. With the tumult and his severe injuries, Aslan's strength, both mental and physical, would return very slowly- if at all.
The ranger pondered on all that had happened. She still could not believe what Elrohir had told her about Aslan; how he couldn't deal with physical pain as well as others. Nesco had seen no evidence of it. She gulped, remembering again lying on her stomach, mere moments away from death, ready to surrender to it, and then staring into those light blues eyes- and seeing the strength in them.
Strength that somehow, he had been able to share with her.
A tap on her shoulder made Nesco look up. Caroline was bending over the ranger, a tin mug in her hand. She had said something, but Nesco couldn't make it out over the din. She cupped her ear.
Caroline raised her voice a notch, only as loud as she dared. "I said, would you like some wine? It was in one of those boxes you brought up with you."
Nesco smiled wanly and shook her head. "Thank you Caroline, but I've already had some water." She turned to look back at Aslan, but soon became aware that Caroline was still standing there. She looked back at the younger woman.
Caroline had that mischievous smile on her face that Nesco couldn't quite figure out. Lady Bigfellow gestured towards the sleeping paladin. "He's an amazing man, isn't he?"
Nesco looked back at him and slowly nodded. She could hear Caroline's voice as the young fighter continued.
"He can be a judgmental horror one minute over the most inconsequential things, and the next minute, he's ready to lay down his life for you. People say Argo's hard to figure out, but Aslan," Nesco could hear Caroline's shrug, "I don't know if anyone can ever really know him."
Nesco turned again to regard the younger woman. "How long have you known Aslan?"
Caroline considered. "About three years. Three long years. She chuckled. "He's the only paladin I've ever known personally." Her face grew thoughtful. "Suffice it to say, they're not what I expected, if he's any indication."
Nesco nodded in commiseration. "I know what you mean." She looked again at the paladin, trying to find the right word. "He seems so… optimistic?" She shook her head. "I'm not sure if that's the right word, but he's always moving forward; always has a plan, always…" she caught her breath, "always looking for the good in others."
Aslan snorted, rolled over on his side, and began snoring.
Both women had to cover their mouths to keep from breaking out in laughter. Caroline, mischievous smile back in place, pointed at Aslan and said, "No matter how loud he snores, don't wake him."
Nesco's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, ho! So that was you?" Caroline shook her head and started heading back towards the others.
"Not me. But I don't think Argo's ever forgiven him."
Cygnus walked over to where Zantac was sitting and joined him. The older wizard was staring glumly at his spellbook, which was spread out on the floor beside him. As Cygnus sat down, Zantac slammed the book shut with disgust and began stuffing it back into his backpack.
"There's too much damn noise. I can't concentrate."
Cygnus shrugged. "You can get plenty of peace and quiet back at the Brass Dragon. Just bring me back a hot cup of tea, okay?"
Zantac sighed. "Listen Cygnus, I've been thinking-"
The younger mage put his hand over his heart. "No more surprises today, Zantac. I've seen too many unbelievable things already."
"Har de har har. Listen up, string bean. Despite all evidence to the contrary, you're," and here Zantac paused, "a more experienced wizard than I am. You know more spells, and you're better at casting. I'm the one who twisted your arm to come here. You never wanted to be here in the first place. Ergo, you go back. End of discussion, and bring me back an apple cinnamon tea. None of that mint crap you like so much."
Zantac got up and swiftly walked away towards where the ex-slaves were huddled together before Cygnus could formulate a reply, an objection, or even a thought.
When the thought finally came, it was in the form of a question. Cygnus wondered if he had accepted Zantac's argument out of logic or selfishness. The idea of refusing to come back with Aslan, he was ashamed to say, had indeed occurred to him.
Caroline Bigfellow was just finishing up bandaging the arm of one of the ex-slaves who had come up from below; a glum, older man of about fifty. "There," she said, smiling at him. "You'll be good as new soon."
The man, who had been looking off into the distance as Caroline worked, turned slowly to look at his bandaged arm, and then eyed the young woman. Caroline looked back at him.
The man spoke matter-of-factly. "You look a little like my daughter."
Caroline hesitated, but she could read nothing in the man's face. She decided to take a chance.
"Is she back home?"
The man looked off again into the corner of the chamber. "She was young, and strong, like you. She tried to protect me when the slavers came."
He said nothing more.
Slowly, Caroline got up and walked away.
She found Argo as her husband was returning to the temple chamber. The ranger insisted on doing constant patrols of the area to avoid a possible surprise attack. He saw Caroline and was about to speak when she walked up right to him and silently put her arms around him for a hug.
They stood there, rocking softly for a few moments, and then Caroline pulled back.
"Sorry," she said. "I just needed that."
Her husband nodded, just the trace of a smile on his lips. "I did too, but at least you didn't have foolish pride keeping you from asking for it." His expression turned sober again. "The sky outside- I don't like it."
Caroline frowned. "What do you mean?'
Argo blew air through his lips as he tried to think of how to phrase his thoughts correctly. "It'll be dark soon. There are low clouds covering the whole sky. They're almost a brown color, like there's dust or dirt in them. And their height is dropping. Not fast, but steadily."
"Do you think it will rain? Or is there a storm coming?."
Argo shook his head. I don't know. It feels unnatural. I don't like it, he repeated, then put his arm around his wife's shoulder. "Join me in a cup of warm water?"
Caroline smiled as they began to head back towards the others. She really wasn't thirsty, but she'd never tell Argo that.
She was still thinking about Talass' vision, and about how Argo loved to run off on his own, doing something heroic, something foolhardy, something…
"Nothing," the Slave Lord replied. He had apparently recovered all his poise now, although he still made no signs of resistance. "I will tell you nothing more. If you do regain this zone of truth spell I have heard tell of, I will be silent, and you will learn nothing."
Elrohir could have sworn he heard a low growl in the back of his wife's throat.
The Slave Lord continued. "You serve both deities and patrons, noble and pure". He looked at them, and a smirk returned to his face. "Your morals will not allow you to hurt a prisoner who makes no move to escape."
Talass looked over to Elrohir, but her husband's face was calm.
"Belvor's court will retrieve want they want to know from this man. Of all our concerns, he is our least at the moment."
The cleric considered this and nodded in silent assent, although she continued to fix the Slave Lord with a stern glare. After a few moments, the man turned away, only to see Sarkos, still standing in his defiant pose, about ten feet away from him.
Only now he was armed.
"I serve no noble patron or god," Sarkos said in a low voice that nonetheless carried clearly to his target. "Perhaps you will not reach the destination they intend for you. Many things can happen before that time."
Elrohir and Talass both frowned but Sarkos turned back to his fellow ex-slaves, who had more or less chosen him as their unofficial spokesman. A number of heads nodded in agreement.
As he passed by them, Sarkos turned a curious glance at Zantac and the young woman who sat facing him. They were sharing a mug of wine between them.
Zantac couldn't stop staring. He hadn't noticed Marisee when she first came up from below with her fellow slaves, although now he was sorry he'd missed even a moment of being with her. She had caught his eyes and smiled but in truth, it was not a flirtatious or seductive look; at least not overtly. Zantac however, had been so taken aback he had momentarily forgotten how to breathe.
She was not an identical twin by any means and in fact was clearly younger, perhaps Caroline's age. But the resemblance between Marisee (What a lovely name, he thought) and Aimee was much too strong to be coincidence.
And it was not. As they began to talk, Marisee was amazed to find out that Zantac knew her elder sister, whom she had not seen in almost nine years.
"She always wanted to be an actress, but she also talked about learning the ways of magic," Marisee said softly, looking down at the mug in her hands.
Zantac did not interrupt her. He knew this; Aimee had revealed it during their rare intimate moments together (although she had never mentioned having a sister), but he just loved hearing the sound of Marisee's voice.
She glanced up at Zantac, shyly. "She always said she would go north one day, to Elredd, or perhaps even to Greyhawk. It seems that she went even further. I am proud of her."
Her voice was almost a whisper, so Zantac had to lean closer to her to hear it. At this range, he could swear that Marisee had the same alluring scent he remembered so well from Aimee. He kept staring at her hair as if it might change color, but of course it did not.
"Did the slavers raid your village?" he asked her, as gently as he could. She nodded, her eyes falling down to the cup again.
"I was heading out to the market from my far. As I came into the village square, I heard yelling, and screaming. I looked to the east, out at the bay, and I could see a tall ship with yellow sails. Then, I saw… saw…"
She began to shiver. Tears trickled from her eyes, shut tight in a painful remembrance Without any hesitation, Zantac moved over to her side and put his arm around her. She leaned into him and her sobbing soon subsided.
"It'll be all right," Zantac said with his best reassuring smile.
To his surprise (and a joy that he chastised himself for feeling), she looked directly into his eyes. Zantac never wanted to look away.
"I know," she said. "It will be- now."
"So this is it?" Aslan asked Cygnus. "You're the one who's coming back with me?"
The magic-user nodded, looking back at Zantac, who was- Cygnus blinked and looked again- now holding hands with one of the former slaves; a stunningly attractive young woman that Cygnus hadn't noticed before.
Cygnus smiled to himself.
I should have guessed. Noble sacrifice, my ass. For that, he gets mint. He glanced back at the paladin, who was again armored up and ready to go. "Yes, by mutual decision. I'm ready, Aslan."
"Hold the fort, Elrohir". The paladin gave his friend's shoulder a quick squeeze. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Cygnus has instructions to knock you unconscious should you stall for any reason, so get going." Elrohir's smile didn't fully hide his concern, but it was an admirable effort.
"All of you, take care. I promise on the name of the High One, every one of us is going to make it out of here." Aslan finished with a glance at Talass, who said nothing.
The two walked apart a few feet, and Cygnus put his hands on Aslan's shoulders. "Well, Aslan," the mage said with a wry smile, "there's one good thing to come out of all this."
The paladin looked puzzled. "And what's that?"
Cygnus' smile grew broader. "One look at you, and Tadoa will be thanking the heavens you didn't let him come along with us."
For the first time since they had returned to the surface, Aslan smiled.
He concentrated, and they were gone.