26th Day of Flocktime, 565 CY
Drachensgrab Hills, The Pomarj
The sounds of combat were growing closer.
Markessa gulped and stepped behind her desk, casting a cantrip as she did so.
The screeches of goblins could still be heard from beyond the double doors, which were about seventy feet from where the elf currently stood. Markessa had briefly heard the deeper, gruff shouts of Adhu Nazaryet, the hobgoblin shaman. But then only a minute ago Markessa had heard Adhu scream, and then there had been nothing more from him.
Markessa cast another spell on herself and looked around one more time at the thirteen goblins scattered around her laboratory. Seven were on the balcony that surrounded the room on three sides, while the other six were down below with Markessa.
"Ready!" she shouted one more time at them. The goblins below drew their short swords, while five of the seven humanoids above nocked arrows on the strings of their short bows.
The howls of worgs could now be heard. Markessa bit her lip and drew her own short sword. The enemy had reached the worg guard post, which was just outside the door.
The elf inclined her head, straining to hear one specific, hollow, rumbling voice.
She didn't hear it.
Blackthorn was either already dead, or he had betrayed her.
For your sake, you'd better be dead, thought Markessa as a savage sneer flashed across her face.
The double doors now began to shake under assault. The crossbar holding them closed cracked slightly but held.
Markessa glanced to her left, tilting her head upwards.
"Move out in front," she said. "Give yourself room."
Her reply was a burst of steam and a loud growl, barely understandable even to her. The large figure moved out and around the desk. Markessa took one step sideways to her left, retaining the partial cover the desk offered her, but allowing her a clean line of sight to the door.
The crossbar started to crack as the doors began to push inward. There weren't many goblin voices coming from beyond anymore.
Markessa's eyes darted to the vials, flasks and assorted alchemical equipment scattered on the desk in front of her. Breathing heavily, the elf snatched up a vial of black liquid, pulled the stopper off and swallowed the contents in two gulps. She hurled the empty vial away and readied the first attack spell she intended to cast in her mind.
The bar was about to give. Aside from a worg or two, the only sounds the elf could hear now from outside were the voices of the intruders. Those damnable humans she hated above all others. The humans that she had prayed she would never see again.
The humans who had ruined everything.
"The Abyss take you all!" she screamed in Common as the doors gave way.
One of the attackers rushed forward into the room. It was a tall human, wearing a brown, hooded frock-style robe and carrying a quarterstaff. Even from her location all the way across the laboratory however, Markessa knew who it was. The mage called Cygnus.
The elf grinned. Perfect. She hadn't expected the invaders to expose one of their wizards so recklessly. It was a mistake that they would not have the opportunity to learn from.
"Now!" she screamed at the two goblins situated on the balcony, directly above the doors.
With no small amount of groaning, the small humanoids tipped over the cauldron they were balancing on the balcony railing. Over twenty gallons of brine plunged down, and the magic-user vanished underneath that salty waterfall.
Markessa shrieked in triumph. Let him try casting now, she thought. The elf was about to cast her own spell before she realized something was wrong.
Cygnus was not standing there, gasping for breath. He wasn't standing there, clawing at his eyes in agony.
In fact, he wasn't standing there at all.
He had disappeared as soon as the deluge hit him.
Illusion.
The word, currently an obscenity, stuck in Markessa's throat, but the elf growled and flung the thought aside. There was no time for that now. She incanted and pointed right at the doorway, where the rest of the party were bunched oh-so-conveniently together.
The lightning bolt effortlessly discharged from her fingertips- and then abruptly dissipated.
Markessa could only gape. Never outside of training had she ever been counterspelled.
From somewhere within the ranks of the invaders came a loud, cheery voice.
"I gotta hand it to you, Elrohir. Prepping ahead really does pay off!"
"Don't flatter yourself, Zantac- he just didn't want any of us getting caught by your lousy aim," Cygnus cut in.
The party leader, currently standing in front of the latter mage, grimaced as he tried to ignore the searing pain in his right foot he had earned from that last final kick on the doors. Aslan, currently to his right, gave his friend a quick encouraging look and then plunged into the room, shield held at the ready.
Arrows rained down from above, but they either missed or bounced harmlessly off the paladin's shield. Aslan peered down the length of the laboratory at their quarry. He was about to make a pithy remark designed to reinforce the advantage that they held- but it died stillborn on his lips when he saw the figure standing in front of the wooden desk about fifty feet straight ahead of him.
Bullish friend, he thought ruefully. That's not what I thought Blackthorn meant.
Talass entered the room and immediately slid along the wall, keeping about fifteen feet directly behind the paladin.
Tojo charged ahead, winding up slightly behind and to Aslan's left. The samurai's mouth tightened as he looked at what the paladin was looking at.
Nesco finished off the last remaining worg by ramming Sundancer into its already mortally wounded body, and then hustled forward, ending up at the spot where Cygnus' image had drawn the goblin's ambush.
Half of the remaining goblins charged. One each reached Aslan and Talass- and paid for it with their lives, their respective quarries easily deflecting their sword strikes and delivering lethal responses with longsword and warhammer. A third, charging from Nesco's left, actually managed to get a strike in on the ranger, but it bounced off Cynewine's ready shield. The other three goblins clustered around Markessa in anticipation of any rush from the humans.
"Everything going according to plan in there, Aslan?" Elrohir called out from his position just inside the doors.
Aslan looked behind him for a moment and exchanged glances with Tojo before refocusing his attention forward.
"Bit of a snag, Elrohir," the paladin said, too softly for his friend to hear.
The minotaur charged.
For a moment, Aslan thought he'd been fast enough.
Then, in the space of an instant, one of the oncoming minotaur's horns pushed aside the paladin's shield and slammed right through Aslan's breastplate. He cried out in agony as he felt the ivory tip carve into his upper chest. As the monster lifted its head up from the charge, Aslan felt himself being lifted off his feet for a moment before the horn withdrew. Incredibly, Aslan managed to remain upright, but the world was now a distorted blur viewed through his tears of pain.
But he knew somewhere in that haze was a gigantic double-bladed battleaxe with his name on it.
As fast as plate mail would allow, Elrohir came lumbering onto the battlefield, and came up on Aslan's right. Using his larger size to his advantage, the minotaur swung his axe at the ranger before he even got there, but Elrohir had seen it coming and neatly sidestepped the blow without checking his momentum.
Simultaneously with Elrohir, the real Cygnus now ran into the room, making a dash for Markessa's operating table. This gave him some cover from the elf down at the far end, but even though he was a good ten feet to Aslan's left, the mage realized belatedly that he was a little bit closer to the minotaur than he thought he would have been.
There was that, and the seven goblins above now drawing a bead on him with their bows.
Cygnus didn't take long to decide where to strike. Ignoring everyone else, the tall wizard used the moment in which the giant bull-man had swung at Elrohir to incant, and his magic missiles tore into the creature's furry hide. It roared in pain and then gazed with fury at the magic-user.
Zantac came rushing up to Cygnus' left, and the latter mage bit off the retort he had been planning.
The Willip wizard, alone among the party, still sported a serious injury- in his case, a vicious worg bite to his left shoulder. Aslan had healed everyone up right before the final rush towards the double doors, but Zantac had still managed to get on the wrong side of one of the worgs before the others took it down. There hadn't been time for any more healing at that point- and besides, he had no idea how much Talent Aslan had left. Zantac gave Cygnus a don't worry about it look before turning his attention downfield. Like himself, Markessa was crouching down slightly, using her desk for partial cover. That in addition to her goblin bodyguards, left very little of the elf that Zantac would see.
But you didn't need to see all that much for magic missiles.
Unfortunately for Zantac, Markessa was thinking the same thing. The elf was a split second faster, and three white streaks shot across the intervening distance- only to vanish a foot or so in front of their target.
Zantac grinned like he'd just swallowed a canary. "Shield, Markessa!" he shouted. "Don't they teach you the classics where you come from?"
Four return missiles shot forth from Zantac's outstretched left hand- and likewise vanished just short of their destination.
Too far away to make out Markessa's facial expression, Zantac could only shrug helplessly.
"I'll drop mine if you drop yours."
Zantac couldn't understand elven, but he was pretty sure he knew profanity when he heard it.
Using his Talent was not an option. He needed to conserve it.
Aslan gritted his teeth as his vision cleared again. His sword danced with the minotaur's battleaxe for a few moments before striking deep into the creature's thigh. The beast's tan fur was soon stained a dark red. The paladin winced as the monster's roar of agony washed over his ears like a tangible and painful wave.
Out of the corner of his eye, Elrohir could see his wife starting to come up and join the battle. "Talass!" the ranger yelled. "We've got this one. Get the goblins above!"
Talass partially obeyed. She did alter her forward course and skirted further to the right, sidling along the east wall, out of reach of the minotaur. But as she cast a spell that created a shimmering, silvery field of energy around herself, the cleric's attention was focused not on the goblins on the balcony, but on their mistress. "They won't keep fighting after Markessa's dead!" she yelled back.
Elrohir would have rolled his eyes, but his tactical situation wouldn't allow it.
Yanigasawa Tojo leapt onto the operating table, and the samurai's katana slashed across the minotaur's chest, drawing yet another bellow of pain from the creature. Its own return strike was far too slow, and easily evaded. Blood continued to issue from the bull-man from both wounds, and it seemed certain like it wasn't long for this world.
Nesco Cynewine didn't bother with combat expertise versus her goblin opponent. With sheer brute strength, she batted aside its shield and then plunged her sword down through the creature's leather armor, through its ribs and into its heart. The ranger was already moving northwest when she yanked Sundancer out of the goblin's corpse, which she had started to drag behind her. She wound up just to Zantac's left.
Although Nesco had intended to clear the balcony first, she caught sight of Markessa at the far end of the room.
The rage she had been repressing erupted without warning. Her anger at that damnable elf dovetailed perfectly with the final instructions her father had given her concerning Markessa. The one who had killed his son. Nesco's brother. Sir Miles Cynewine.
Gut the bitch, Sir Alexor had said.
Arrows rained down again and Zantac heard Cygnus cry out on his right.
The tall wizard was moaning and leaning over to his left, his hand clamped over his ear. An arrow had struck him in his left ear, not hard enough to remain, but with enough force that Zantac could see blood dribbling out between his fellow mage's fingers. Another arrow grazed Zantac's right leg, but he ignored it to shout out further to his right. "Aslan! Talass! Cygnus has been hit!"
Apparently, Cygnus still retained some hearing, because he immediately overrode his friend. "Never mind- keep going!" he shouted out. "Kill first! Heal later!"
At this point the minotaur let loose with a splitting scream that put an ache into everyone's ears.
The battleaxe came swinging around fast, in a horizontal sweep to the right.
Elrohir ducked. Aslan did so instinctively, although the axe would have passed over his head anyway. Tojo, still standing on the operating table, leapt up and the blade passed under his feet. However, the minotaur managed to quickly redirect the axe swing straight up, where it scraped along the samurai's back. Tojo managed to grit his teeth and hide his pain, but he couldn't conceal the dark red stain on the back of his new silk shirt.
A second later, and the minotaur screamed even louder and longer- one last time.
The axe fell from its hands, which scrabbled uselessly at the blade that had slid up through its abdomen and under its ribcage.
With a heavy grunt, Elrohir yanked Gokasillion clear, and the minotaur toppled to the floor.
In obvious pain, Cygnus straightened up, and dug into his spell component pouch. Zantac saw what his peer came out with, and the two wizards locked eyes.
"I've had enough of this," Cygnus whispered, right before he uttered a short incantation.
The tiny orange sphere streaked towards the far side of the room. Cygnus thought he saw Markessa incant and vanish a split second before the fireball detonated.
The roar of the explosion filled the room as an orange ball of fire enveloped the desk, along with the three goblins that had been standing in front of it. There were several secondary explosions as various mixtures in vials that were on top of the desk exploded as well, and then a thick, black, greasy smoke enveloped the back third of the laboratory.
Liquid smoke, thought Cygnus. The same stuff Aiclesis used to carry in his backpack. Damn. I don't have a spell to disperse this. Still wincing from the pain in his left ear, the magic-user glanced over to his right. "I'm not sure, Elrohir, but she might have gone invisible!"
Elrohir thought for a moment and then pointed towards the smoke.
"It narrows down there!" the party leader shouted, referring to where the room constricted to a mere twenty foot width, with an additional five feet on either side for the staircases leading up to the balcony. This was roughly where the boundary of the smoke cloud was located. "Everyone line up and head that way!" the ranger continued. "Keep her boxed in!"
"How are we going to find her in there, Elrohir?" Aslan inquired, also pointing towards the smoke.
"Detect," piped up Talass, with a grim smile. "Invisible or not, she's all shined up."
Elrohir nodded and mirrored his wife's grin. "Do it, people."
Sweeping his quarterstaff in a wide arc in front of him like an extremely angry blind man, Zantac circled the operating table and slowly walked over to the indicated section of the laboratory, taking up a position next to the western staircase. Aslan soon followed on the opposite side, with Talass right behind him.
Tojo came up on Aslan's left, and Nesco filled in the gap between the samurai and Zantac. Everyone peered intently into the smoke- looking, listening. Zantac and Talass prepared to cast.
There was no sign.
"Cygnus!" Aslan called out over his shoulder. "How do we know she didn't teleport?"
The twanging of numerous bowstrings being released was his reply. Shouts and yells came from the party as goblin arrows flew all around them, several bouncing off due to ineffectual penetration.
"Ow!" yelled Cygnus from behind them. "They're not giving up, and they're too spread out! It'd take all of my spells to get them! One of you draw your bow and take them out! I'm a pincushion here!" The wizard was rubbing the back of his neck, where the latest goblin missile had scraped by his flesh, drawing more blood.
Aslan suddenly stamped his foot in frustration. "I just remembered!" he shouted, pointing into the smoke again. "There's another door on the west wall, behind the staircase! Did anyone hear a door open?"
Tojo suddenly looked over his right shoulder. "Tarass-san," the samurai said calmly. "Reprace me."
And with that, he ran into the smoke, heading towards the location of the door. Talass had been about to make a comment, but merely threw up her arms. "Here we go again," the cleric muttered, as she moved into the samurai's vacated spot.
Nesco looked back and over at Elrohir, who was just coming up. "I think the battle plan is falling apart," she said.
Elrohir was about to fire off a retort when Tojo's voice came out of the smoke.
"Door is rocked from this side. Not think she reave this way."
Elrohir sheathed Gokasillion and drew his bow. "Cygnus! Get to cover!"
Cygnus looked around, but he couldn't see any place in the room, even underneath the balcony, where he wouldn't be exposed to fire from at least two goblins. Mumbling a curse, the magic-user dashed out just beyond the open double doors and waited there.
Zantac cast.
"Nothing." He frowned. "That's not good. I wish I knew how powerful she is. Maybe she did teleport."
"Or she's slipped past us," Aslan offered, turning around and looking back from whence they had come. "Cygnus!" he yelled out. "Close one of those doors and block the other one! If she is still here, we don't want her slipping out by you!"
"If she's invisible, I can find her," Talass said suddenly, staring at Zantac, who nodded and turned to Elrohir.
"She has a prayer that could do it, Elrohir, but we've got to decide if-"
Cygnus screamed.
Six heads turned just in time to see Markessa standing in front of Cygnus, her right arm raised almost delicately to touch the mage on his left shoulder. Arcs of blue electricity were leaping from her hand to his body. Smoke arose from the mage's shoulder, and then he collapsed into a twitching heap on the floor.
"GET HER!" Elrohir screamed.
The order was redundant. It was only with the greatest effort that Aslan refrained from hurling a psionic blast at the elf. The paladin lumbered back towards the south, Talass keeping up on his left. He knew he could never catch Markessa if the elf bolted unless he polymorphed, which he didn't want to do.
A shriek came from above. Tojo had ascended the west staircase and had just cut down the goblin on top of the landing. The remaining six goblins all fired at the samurai.
Tojo's katana whirled in a steel circle around him. Two arrows were deflected and three more missed, but one plunged halfway into the samurai's stomach. He made no move to pull it out.
Nesco hesitated. Her hatred of Markessa was trying to hurl her forward towards that monster, but she just couldn't bear to watch Tojo fighting up there all alone.
She took a deep breath and plunged into the thick smoke, heading for the eastern staircase.
For her part, Markessa seemed to realize escape was impossible. The elf sidled west along the south wall, until she reached the corner of the room, intent on making her stand there. A bold smile crossed her face as she pointed at Aslan and Talass and incanted.
The duo tensed up, but nothing happened, other than a scowl replacing Markessa's previous grin.
Elrohir was now running as fast as he could back along the west wall, underneath the balcony. The ranger put back his bow and drew his longsword again as he came.
Zantac stayed where he was and considered his options. They weren't numerous. He had few spells left, but there was one that just might make a difference.
"Time to take off some of that shine, sister," he muttered as he pointed at Markessa, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder.
"I'll help Cygnus! Get Markessa!" Talass shouted at Aslan as she darted forward and then knelt down by the unconscious wizard. The paladin altered course towards the cornered elf, huffing and puffing all the while. No matter how many times he did it, running in plate mail was always an arduous exercise.
Tojo moved down the balcony, cutting down another goblin. Five more arrows flew at the samurai, and one struck his left calf hard enough to hurt.
The goblin that had fired that arrow grinned, proud at his marksmanship. That feeling lasted for about six seconds- the length of time it took for Sundancer to plunge into his back and slice into several vital organs that desperately needed to remain whole in order to function.
"Are we going wired now, Nesco-san?" Tojo shouted at Cynewine across the room.
Nesco gave the samurai her widest smile.
"We certainly are, Tojo. We most certainly are."
As he came up, Elrohir noticed a sudden expression of dismay on Markessa's face. The elf glanced down the room at Zantac, but quickly returned her attention to bring her sword up to meet Gokasillion's charge. The ranger hoped that Markessa's fighting skills were not up to par with her sorcery.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Markessa was small, but she was fast. Her short sword easily parried Elrohir's longsword. The elf actually pirouetted while pressing her blade free, and then cross-slashed, undercutting Elrohir's shield and making an X-shaped gash in his breastplate. The tip of her blade almost missed cutting his flesh.
Zantac cast another detect on Markessa, trying to analyze the readings he was getting. From the vicious look the elf had shot him, he was confident his dispel had stripped something from her defenses, but she still looked to be going strong. Zantac had no more dispels, but he was pretty sure Talass did. The wizard slowly started moving back towards the double doors.
At about ten feet out from Markessa, Aslan suddenly cried out in pain as he slammed his forehead into some kind of invisible field. The elf's head spun to the right to glare at him, and a cruel smile appeared back on her features.
"Well, hello. If it isn't the fly in my ointment."
Aslan forced a polite smile onto his own face. A strange courtesy he thought, for someone he was about to kill. "If you'd keep your workplace cleaner, you wouldn't have these kind of problems," he managed.
Markessa's smile stayed put where it was. "I intend to eliminate many problems today."
Aslan tried to think from behind his own frozen smile. He couldn't physically reach Markessa, and even if he had dared a psionic blast, Elrohir would be caught in it as well. Switching to his bow carried a similar risk of hitting his friend. The paladin glanced back over his shoulder. Put your pride in storage, Aslan, he thought. The best tool for the best job.
"Talass!" he shouted. "We need you!"
The priestess smiled in satisfaction as Cygnus slowly regained consciousness. She was trying to convince him to stay down when she heard Aslan's command. The cleric hesitated. Cygnus was still much weaker than she would have liked, but Aslan had more potential than she did for healing, anyway. Without another word, she headed towards Markessa, passing Aslan en route.
The paladin helped the tall mage to his feet. "Stay here, Cygnus. You're still-"
The wizard cut him off. "Still wounded? I'm used to it by now, Aslan."
Somewhat unsteadily, the magic-user tried to walk around Aslan and towards Markessa, but the paladin grabbed his arm to stop him.
"Let them handle it, Cygnus," he said, leaning his face close in to his friend. "Save your spells. I have a feeling we're going to need them later."
Tojo and Nesco now occupied both southernmost corners of the balcony, having cut down the goblins that occupied those spots. The remaining two goblins retreated to the center of the east-west section, directly above the double doors. They stood back-to-back, dropped their short bows and drew swords.
Over their heads, Tojo and Nesco smiled at each other.
Markessa shrieked as Elrohir scored his first hit, the ranger's blade streaked with red as it sliced through the elf's studded leather armor to cut her left thigh.
"What's the matter, Markessa? No more pithy comments?" The party leader's comment was designed to (hopefully) unnerve his opponent more than anything else.
The cruel smile returned, displacing the previous grimace of pain. Markessa said nothing, but her short sword whirled, sliced and stabbed. Elrohir avoided the blows but realized a second too late that he had been forced back an inch or so too far to interfere in her next foray.
The elf pivoted to her right, stepped forward and thrust forward. Talass was unable to check her forward momentum in time, and the short sword pierced her chainmail, stabbing through by her left armpit. The cleric cried out and backed up a pace, all thoughts of attack temporarily forgotten.
Markessa turned back to Elrohir. "Pithy enough for you?" she began but was cut off by the tip of a quarterstaff swinging upwards and catching the elf under her chin.
"Am I late to the party?" inquired the newly arrived Zantac, swinging his staff around for another attack.
Talass was literally growling. Wounded despite her shield of faith, the priestess maintained just enough presence of mind to step back another few feet. She began casting again, her light blue eyes never straying from the one who had struck her.
"Are you sure you can afford this, Aslan?" Cygnus queried as the paladin poured his healing energies into him. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you," the mage added as the worst of his pains faded.
Aslan favored his friend with a tight smile. "Just don't get hurt anymore, okay?"
Cygnus raised an eyebrow. "You do like to have control of the battlefield, don't you?" he asked, slowly moving northwestward to get a line on Markessa. Noticing Aslan's glare, he hastened to add, "Don't worry. No spells unless you or Elrohir say so. I just want to be in position if I'm needed."
The paladin looked grim. "We need to finish this quickly," he said without elaboration.
Acting on an unspoken wavelength, Nesco and Tojo simultaneously dropped their swords, drew their bows, notched an arrow and let it fly. The twin missiles impaled the two goblins' necks to each other. They both made rattling noises in their throats and slumped to the balcony floor.
Blood sprayed on both their faces as Elrohir and Markessa tore into each with renewed ferocity. Defensive maneuvering faded into the background as both combatants seemed to simultaneously decide on a battle of attrition. Zantac's attempt at another attack was ineffectual.
"Aslan!" the Willip wizard shouted at the paladin. "This is getting ugly!"
"He's right!" confirmed Cygnus. "And who should know better?"
Aslan started to walk forward again towards the melee, and then stopped in a bitter realization. Dammit! I can't even get close enough to Elrohir or Talass to heal them! He clenched his fists, upset with an unaccustomed feeling of helplessness.
CRACK!
The sound of bone breaking underneath Markessa's studded leather armor was audible even over the general din of the melee.
The elf nearly doubled over, clutching her chest with her left hand, while Talass wound up her warhammer for another swing.
"With all the strength scrolls you seem to have around here, I'm surprised you're not more prepared for that," the priestess snapped at her foe. "Hold that position!"
The truth of the situation was beginning to dawn on Markessa now. With another scream, she launched into a fusillade of blows against Talass. Her short sword slammed into the cleric's forehead just underneath her helm, and blood poured down Talass' face. Markessa paid for the diversion however, as Gokasillion found its mark again and again.
"Talass- pull back!" Elrohir shouted.
"You're as bad off as I am- you pull back!"
Zantac swung with his staff again without effect. "Remind me to remain single!" he called out to no one in particular.
"Like that's a problem?" came Cygnus' voice from behind him.
"Har-de-har-har."
Aslan was about to admonish the two wizards for their excessive banter in a situation he felt was too serious to warrant it when the paladin caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around, but it was merely Nesco and Tojo, dangling from the lip of the balcony above. As he watched, the ranger and the samurai let go, landing on the floor above with matching grunts.
Oh, what the hell, the paladin thought as he moved towards Tojo. "There are better places to store your arrow collection, Tojo," he said, yanking the projectile out of the samurai's abdomen with one hand while healing him up with the other.
Tojo gasped and clutched his stomach, momentarily unable to reply.
"No."
Elrohir stared at Markessa.
The elf had lifted up her head to stare at the ranger after gazing almost calmly at the sight of Gokasillion buried in her chest halfway to the hilt.
Her one word, spoken in elven, had no emotional inflection at all behind it. It wasn't a plea for mercy, or an exclamation of disbelief.
Elrohir stared back into Markessa's amber eyes. It almost seemed as if she had answered a question that he hadn't even formulated in his mind yet.
Markessa sank to her knees, and then crumpled over on her side. Her ragged breathing continued for a few more seconds, and then ceased.
"How much?" Elrohir asked Aslan softly, as the paladin finished healing everyone up to at least a modicum of health.
"About enough for one teleport." The paladin's reply was equally quiet, but everyone was close enough to hear it anyway. "What have we found?" he asked the others, trying to redirect their thoughts.
Cygnus looked down at what he had salvaged from the burnt remnants of the desk that Markessa had been standing behind; two metallic claws wrapped in a large white handkerchief. "If these are really adamantine as I suspect, they're worth a pretty copper."
Talass was examining a pair of electrum bracers and a bloodstained neck guard she had taken off of Markessa's corpse. "These are valuable too, but not magical." She indicated the elf's body with a nod of her head. "Both the armor and the sword are, though. I wouldn't bother with the leather, but that sword has a pretty strong aura."
"Evil?" Her husband asked, looking over to Aslan. The paladin concentrated briefly, then shook his head.
Elrohir slowly bent down and retrieved the sword.
Aslan suddenly turned to Zantac. "Can you secure those with a spell?" he asked the magic-user, pointing towards the double doors they had entered from.
Zantac nodded soberly, taking note of the seriousness in the paladin's voice.
Aslan nodded. "Do it," then turned his attention to Cygnus, who was going over some rolls of parchment he had discovered on top of a cabinet. The tall wizard glanced up.
"Useful," he said with a smile. "Names of all the slave merchants that do business here-"
"Did," Talass said with finality.
"That did business here," Cygnus continued. "Also a record of all the slaves processed through here in the last few months. Names, where they were taken, where they were sent... Hmmm- that's interesting."
Elrohir's eyes narrowed. "What?"
Cygnus screwed up his face, as if he were trying to recall an obscure fact.
"What?" Aslan asked, his impatience leaking into the syllable.
The Aardian wizard suddenly looked over to his right, where Nesco Cynewine was kneeling on the floor, examining some of Markessa's surviving alchemical equipment.
"Where is Suderham?"
There was a pause.
Slowly, the ranger rose to her feet, staring at the tall mage.
For the third time in the last ten seconds, the question "What?" was heard.
Cygnus indicated the parchments with his eyes. "It says here that the slaves deemed most valuable were taken by caravan to a city called Suderham. There's a rough map here of the route."
"That's not possible," Nesco whispered. "Suderham was razed years ago to the invading humanoids. It was the capital of The Pomarj under the Suloise warlords, and the seat of King Olarek's power. It was the last city to fall." Cynewine looked thoughtful. "It was said to be a marvel to behold," she mused. "It was built on the slopes of Mount Flamenblut, an extinct volcano."
"Lord of Justice," breathed Talass. "A volcano?"
There was another silence. A much longer one.
"Who receives the slaves that are supposedly sent there, Cygnus?" asked Elrohir eventually.
The wizard looked down again at the papers, and then shrugged.
"They're referred to here only as The Nine."
"Aslan," the party leader announced, turning to his friend, "we may have to change our plan."
The paladin shook his head. "No."
"Let's assume your theory is correct Aslan, and since the amphitheatre of that cloak-thing was empty, there's no reason to doubt it," Elrohir said, as patiently as he could while pointing to the door in the laboratory's rear. "Somewhere down that way are all the slaves that are currently being held here. Seventy, maybe eighty-"
"One hundred twenty-two," cut in Cygnus, waving a sheet of parchment, "assuming all the ones listed here are still alive."
"One hundred and twenty-two," Elrohir repeated, crossing his arms across his chest. "You want us to lead that many people westwards across the Drachensgrabs almost two hundred miles, until we reach the Jewel River? Talass can keep what, thirty people supplied with food and water? Nesco and myself- perhaps another ten each, if that! And that's not counting the terrain or any encounters we might have along the way! They won't make it, Aslan," he finished, shaking his head sadly. "They won't make it."
Aslan gazed steadily at his party leader. "They'll be killed if we leave them here, Elrohir. We started this, and now we have to finish it."
"Change the plan," the ranger insisted. "Supposedly the Royal Court was going to contact the Principality of Ulek, who would send out men to receive us at the border, right? Tell them we've secured the fortress and have the Ulekians come and pick up the slaves here!"
Aslan sighed. "First of all Elrohir, we haven't secured the fortress. In fact, it's probably about to degenerate into anarchy very soon. Second of all, the Principality is very unlikely to agree to such a major undertaking. And thirdly, the slaves wouldn't even last that long- not trapped here with a horde of cannibalistic goblinoids!"
Elrohir clenched his fists in frustration. "We can't save them, Aslan!"
The paladin's voice fell back into quietude. "Then I'll die trying." His light blue eyes searched his long-time companion's face. "We need a miracle, Elrohir. I know it's a heavy burden, but that's what you do. Don't let us down now."
"Aslan," the ranger said, his own voice low; his expression showing naked despair. "I don't know how we can do it. I don't know-"
With no warning whatsoever, Yanigasawa Tojo suddenly ran at full speed towards the door in the back. When he reached it, the samurai placed his ear to the wood and then abruptly stepped back.
"Tojo!" said Zantac. "What is-"
The door began shaking under an assault.
"Never mind," the wizard muttered.
From beyond the double doors came the howling of wolves.
"Trouble," said a tight-lipped Nesco.
Everyone stared at the south entrance. They all expected the double doors to start trembling under a pounding from without at any moment.
But what no one expected was the simple, almost gentle knock that they heard.
"Hello in there!" came a calm, hollow voice.
The word was torn out of Cygnus' throat.
"Blackthorn."
"I'm glad you've freed us all from Markessa's tyranny," the voice continued. "May I come in? I only wish to thank you properly."
Nesco's blood ran cold. "You're not fooling us, Blackthorn!" she shouted.
"You have no idea, Lady Cynewine," came the chilling response. "You have no idea."