2nd Day of Needfest, 566 CY
The Brass Dragon Inn, Furyondy
Home was as quiet today as it had been deafening yesterday.
Malachi and his caravan had unloaded their cargo and left on their return journey to Willip. The wooden crates containing the arms, armor and other items were stacked everywhere as no one location could hold them. Some were in the stables; others were in Aslan, Argo and Nesco's cabins and still more were right here; pushed against the outer walls of the common room.
Likewise, the royal knights had departed with them although as Sir Juntaros had stated, they would be passing by again on the return leg of their patrol, in what they guessed would be somewhere between four and five days from now.
Despite the eleven people sitting around the two tables that had been pushed together, the inn was quiet enough that the noise of the freezing, intermittent drizzle outside could be heard.
Conversation over the remnants of supper was a stop-and start affair, stillborn as often as not.
This meal was courtesy of Yenom's faith. The Brass Dragon having been emptied yesterday of every last bite of food and drop of drink from the unexpected horde of customers and their resupply caravan not due for at least another week, the priest of Zilchus had been forced to conjure up sustenance. The food looked well enough, but all present had subsisted on this type of fare for far too many years to expect any real flavor from it.
Still, it beat starving.
Elrohir stole a sideways glance at Laertes.
The young half-orc had been eating with less than his usual gusto and the ranger knew that was only partially attributable to the bland food. The lumberjack still held his shield from the Azure Order in his lap, and at least one hand stayed connected to it at all times.
The party leader had been surprised at first when he saw Laertes with the shield after the patrol had departed, given that he had not yet made up his mind on whether to join them or not. Elrohir thought it unlikely that Sir Juntaros would have willingly loaned the shield with the half-orc in the meantime, given that it essentially fulfilled the same function as a noble's signet ring.
Then Nesco Cynewine had nudged her fellow ranger and whispered, "the belt."
Elrohir frowned. Laertes was wearing the obi of the courtier again.
While that certainly explained how the half-orc had been able to borrow the shield, Elrohir's desire to warn Laertes against ever using it again for that purpose never came to fruition as their party paladin happened to be walking by at that exact moment and spotted the obi.
The resulting exchange wasn't quite a shouting match, but it was by far the sternest lecture Aslan had yet given their newest member. Laertes took it stolidly, but Elrohir knew from experience that the teenaged half-orc was all too willing to hold a grudge.
And that bothered him. He didn't want Laertes' decision, which in all likelihood would affect the youth's entire life to be made under an emotional cloud. The short timeframe that he had to make it under was pressure enough.
They had not yet told Laertes whether he would be allowed to keep the belt if he left to join the Order; primarily because not one of the Tri-Worldians had a clue nor, if truth be told, did anyone even want to consider the matter.
Elrohir saw Aslan, frowning, glance over from Laertes to Argo. The paladin's scowl only deepened before he caught Elrohir looking at him and detoured to an obviously unwanted long drink of water from his mug.
While the Aardian ranger couldn't begrudge Aslan's current foul mood- the paladin was currently under more pressure than anyone else here, as everyone else's course of action was dependent on his decision- it certainly wasn't helping things. For all their constant bickering and arguing, Elrohir knew Aslan and Argo could always count on each other because they knew the other one had their back; in the end, their goals were always more-or-less aligned.
But not now. While Aslan's very nature made the paladin loathe to deny anyone's cry for help, Elrohir knew that Aslan considered the Lone Heath part of their individual past lives; everyone present here had one, but Aslan had been pressing his compatriots- even more so in the past six months or so- to focus on the future, grim as it might be with the Emerald Serpent overshadowing everything.
Not quite everything, though, Elrohir knew. A far greater threat than the Serpent loomed over them, but the entire party, Elrohir included, had chosen to put that cauldron on the low coals, preferring not to think about it for now and hoping that it would cook so slowly that they would eventually have enough free time to deal with it once and for all.
He knew of course that that was a complete and utter lie.
Elrohir tried to pray away the headache he could feel building up, scratched the waiting Dudraug between the cooshee's ears and again concentrated on their two guests. At least they were friendly, convivial and willing to help. The various prayers Yenom had already cast on their behalf at no charge would have bankrupted them all if he had demanded the usual payment that churches charged for them.
What the situation in general boiled down to was that Aslan was reluctant to start draining his Talent on constant teleports with the newest Serpent threat; the so-called "Gray Serpent," apparently likely to strike at any time.
But what exactly was the Gray Serpent? Another assassin, readying a murderous attack in the dark, when everyone was asleep? Should they set watches? Have everyone bed down right here in the common room?
The uncomfortable parallel in the ranger's mind with their earlier experience with Nodyath last year was never far from Elrohir's mind and he knew Aslan and the others would be equally aware of it as well.
Fear had paralyzed them back then into near immobility. They couldn't allow that to happen again.
The somber looks that Yenom and Gastar kept passing between them was a constant reminder of that.
The cleric was now casting a lesser type of divination called an augury. Elrohir was familiar with it only because he had seen Talass cast it several times. While easier to pray for than a true divination, an augury was less useful simply because it couldn't look into the future far enough for most of their purposes. The greater prayer could peer a week or so ahead; this one, anywhere for thirty minutes to several hours depending on which cleric you asked.
Elrohir's wife had used small bones marked with dyes as markers, rolling them onto the table several times and each time examining their positions relative to one another.
Yenom, on the other hand, simply took out twenty or so gold wheatshaffs from his money pouch and dumped them over the table, apparently keenly interested in how many coins came to rest with the king's-profile side up.
Argo and Gastar immediately began making loud side wagers on the coin tosses. When one of the coins rolled off the table, Bigfellow snatched it and pretended to stuff it into his belt pouch.
Despite himself, Elrohir had to smile.
At least some things, he thought, never change.
He glanced over to Aslan to see if the tomfoolery had lifted his spirits, even for a moment, but the paladin was looking at the front door of the inn. A second later, Elrohir heard footsteps and then the door opened, and their stable boy Noah, drenched to the skin and holding a pitchfork half again as tall as he was, peered inside.
"Excuse me, sirs," he said, looking uncomfortable.
Aslan was not currently wearing the helm of telepathy, so Elrohir had no trouble seeing the paladin's light blue eyes blazing at he glared at the young lad.
Detect evil.
Elrohir groaned to himself, his earlier brief levity evaporated. While he couldn't fault Aslan for being cautious, this to him seemed an awful lot like their earlier conversations with Laertes over his use of the obi of the courtier. The ranger felt the paladin would strenuously disagree if he brought the matter up, however, so he did not.
Apparently Aslan detected nothing because he said nothing. His continuing stern expression was enough to make the boy look elsewhere though and his gaze settled, as it usually did, on one particular figure.
"Hello, Noah," Caroline Bigfellow responded, smiling broadly at the child. "What's going on?"
"I'm sorry to bother you, good sirs and ladies," the boy responded, clearing his throat nervously, "but I was just finishing up in the stables and was about to turn in for the night when I heard…," he gestured helplessly, "something."
Every eye was on him now.
"What sort of something?" asked Cygnus, the tall mage leaning across the table.
"The rustling of hay," the boy replied. He shrugged uncomfortably. "We sometimes get snakes hiding in the stable during the summer, but-"
The word snakes tore through the common room like a silent and invisible tornado ,leaving only the wreckage of human expressions in its wake.
Noah instinctively took a step back into the rain.
"It's too cold for snakes," muttered Elrohir.
"I know that, sir," Noah replied with some exasperation, stepping back into the room and trying to wipe the water off his forehead. "I was just about to say so."
"Pay the hired help too much and they always get an attitude, Elrohir," Argo commiserated but he had a smile on his face when he said it.
"I was trying to scare off whatever it is," the stable boy continued, gesturing with the pitchfork for emphasis, "but I couldn't find it and with all those crates around, there's hiding places everywhere."
"I'll go with you, Noah," said Caroline, starting to come around the tables. "We'll find out what's going on together."
"Now who's the pervert?" Gastar said in a stage whisper to Argo, who responded by returning his friend's grin and then dumping his remaining half-cup or so of water in Gastar's lap.
"More than just Caroline should go," said Cygnus, standing up and looking at the others.
"Not everyone, though," cautioned Nesco Cynewine. "That place is packed as it is; hardly any room to move around. Too many people will just get in each other's way. One more should be enough. Someone with good eyes and ears."
The ranger hadn't meant to make that sound like a specific endorsement, but her head along with everyone else's turned to stare at the same person.
For the first time ever in their collective memory, Yanigasawa Tojo let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes.
"Not even hot tea avairaber for when I come back soaking wet," the samurai said, shaking his head as he stood up, motioned brusquely to Noah and Caroline and then followed them out the door.
"Wow," said Argo Bigfellow after a moment. "We are rubbing off on that man."
"I don't know," offered Nesco. "Even I can see the change in him since that scene last month, and I haven't known him nearly as long as most of you. If a little complaining is the only price to be paid for being rid of that terrible burden, I think we all owe it to Tojo to humor him."
"Says the young lady sitting here all toasty warm," Gastar said, still trying to wipe his lap off with a dishtowel.
"Eyes and ears sharp, everyone," Elrohir announced, his gaze riveted on the door which Tojo had astutely left open. "Save the jokes for when we know it's nothing."
Noah approached the stables with decidedly mixed emotions. While he was always happy to have Caroline Bigfellow around, Tojo always made him feel uncomfortable and perhaps belittled. He had noted that the samurai never addressed any child, with the exception of Elrohir and Cygnus' sons, by their name.
"Staber boy," Tojo announced, taking the pitchfork from him, "wait here."
Noah refrained from rolling his eyes with difficulty but let the two adults enter the stables. He kept just far enough inside to keep the worst of the rain at bay.
Caroline hadn't actually been nervous on her way here, expecting to find nothing more than a raccoon or perhaps a family of field mice, but she could feel that start to change as her muscles suddenly tensed up and her breathing quickened.
She wondered if the same thing was happening to Tojo but quickly decided against asking or even looking at the samurai right now. Not having the same compunctions as Tojo about drawing weapons unless he absolutely intended to use them, she pulled her longsword from the sheath and looked around.
The stables on the far side of the Brass Dragon were similar to most. Hay lay scattered across the earthen floor. Tack and saddles hung over the dividing walls between the twelve stalls situated against the back wall. A large wooden water trough was situated against the right hand wall as one entered. Wooden crates, each about five by five by two feet and mostly stacked three high were strewn everywhere, courtesy of the Safe Journeys Caravan Company crew.
A single oil lantern, burning low now, hung on a peg on the left wall.
The smell was strong but not as pungent as it sometimes was. Noah had after all just finished cleaning.
Since no guests were currently present, only seven stalls were occupied: two by Perlial and White Lightning and the others by the horses currently in use by the other Tri-Worldians.
Caroline found herself fighting off tears without warning.
She kept expecting to see the pegasi.
The tears made it harder to identify the small tan shape that suddenly leapt out at her.
"Grock!" the young woman exclaimed, bending down to let the yapping wardog lick her face and receive a quick facial massage in return. "I thought you were out hunting, boy! Don't scare me like that! Yuck- wet doggy!"
Caroline turned around to see Tojo standing about ten feet away, the samurai evidently having just run around some crates at Lady Bigfellow's involuntary exclamation of surprise.
Tojo scowled at her, but most of it vanished when Caroline gave him a wide smile and a helpless shrug. Removing his right hand off the hilt of his katana, the samurai nodded and vanished again behind the crates.
Caroline looked around suddenly, but this time from embarrassment. Had she-?
No. Perlial and White Lightning still seemed to be asleep. Some of the other horses were awake, but they just eyed her and whickered softly.
Grock gave an odd little growl in his throat and looked towards one of the empty stalls.
Caroline started walking towards it, then stopped.
The dying light from the lantern was less than totally reliable and those damn crates were throwing distracting shadows everywhere, but Caroline Bigfellow was almost-maybe-possibly certain that she had just seen something move in that stall.
The fighter looked to her right. She couldn't see Tojo, but he couldn't be more than fifteen feet away from her. For a moment, she wished that someone else had come with her; someone like her husband, who in addition to cracking jokes non-stop also wore clanking full plate armor that would fill this frightening silence.
Caroline shook those thoughts away. She had spent far too much of the past year obsessing with not being allowed to contribute more to this group. No way in the Abyss was she going to abdicate on them now because of a case of the jitters.
She took a deep breath and moved directly in front of the stall, Grock still at her side.
Nothing but piles of hay seemed to be present.
She moved slowly forward. She stopped again when she heard the clear sounds of rustling hay to her right, but it was only Tojo moving piles around with the pitchfork. She could see part of the samurai's shadow behind some crates and then some indistinct Nipponese grumbling, then silence again.
Caroline smiled to herself. Yanigasawa Tojo's training in the samurai ways of bushido back in his native Nippon had very probably not included a class in stable cleaning.
Then part of the pile of hay in front of her collapsed.
Caroline felt all the familiar instincts rising up within her and then did the exact opposite.
She rushed forward and began swinging her sword wildly through the hay.
Nothing.
Not even a sign of an animal having been present. No smell other than stable odors. No feces.
Grock was still with her, but even his keen nose didn't seem to be picking up anything.
Moving the hay around further, Caroline did finally notice something, however.
At the base of the left-hand wooden stall wall, at the very back where it met the stone wall of the inn was a rough circular hole about six to eight inches in diameter.
Caroline quickly uncovered an identical hole on the right-hand wall.
It certainly looked like the hole some kind of burrowing animal might make and if all the stalls had similar holes, whatever it was could move around these stables very quickly indeed.
Caroline turned around to see Tojo standing back at the foot of the stall, a questioning look on the samurai's face.
She explained what she had found.
"So it just might be a raccoon or something like that after all," she said, referencing the holes but Tojo shook his head.
"Your dog wood smerr raccoon, Carrorine-sama."
Caroline hesitated. Leaving now seemed like defeat to her.
"So what should we do?" she asked, figuring that Tojo would never suggest any course of action that he himself would consider dishonorable.
The samurai considered.
"I wirr take staber boy and return to Brass Dragon, Carrorine-sama. Wirr return with Cygnus-sama and perhaps others; those who can detect for magic and evir. They wirr sweep this prace so we may be sure."
Caroline nodded. That sounded reasonable. "I'll hold the fort."
Tojo paused on his way out. The samurai's expression was as grim as ever. No traces of his recent lightening showed.
"Take caution, Carrorine-sama."
"Don't worry," she responded, kneeling down and holding Grock close to her. "I've got Wonder Nose with me."
The samurai was plainly unconvinced by Caroline's show of casualness, but he turned around and pointed the pitchfork at Noah, nearly poking the poor boy in the buttocks as he urged him back around the inn. They were both soon lost to sight.
Caroline had been alone with Grock less than ten seconds, but it still suddenly seemed like an eternity to the young woman when an image of the hole in the wall in the top floor of Chauv Castle suddenly exploded into her brain.
Why hadn't she remembered that?
Of course, this hole was much larger. The Emerald Serpent had amply demonstrated that his viper form did not require such a large hole to move through, but-
Grock suddenly growled again. Louder this time and his body twisted in Caroline's grasp.
She turned to look at what her dog had noticed and for what might have been the hundredth time remembered that she lived in a world of fantastic beasts and incredible mysteries and most of all, magic.
Magic that could hide or mask literally anything.
The iron cobra that was coiled up about ten feet away from Caroline made absolutely no noise as it raised it's metallic head to peer at her.
She had of course no idea what this construct was actually called, but "iron cobra" seemed as good a name as any. The snake did literally seem to be made out of overlapping gray bands of iron, even down to the hood that mirrored its real-life counterpart and was now flaring out as the metallic reptile began to uncoil.
It looked to be only about three feet long from head to tail but if it was indeed made of iron as Caroline suspected, the thing had to weigh close to a hundred pounds.
The next thought that occurred to Caroline Bigfellow was that down on one knee as she was constituted what was possibly one of the worst possible positions in which to defend oneself, let alone to attack.
A split-second later, the cobra had launched itself at her without the faintest whisper of noise.
Its fangs were perhaps a foot away from her flesh when a tan blur once again filled Caroline's vision.
Grock grabbed the metallic serpent at about the midpoint and worried it fiercely.
Given enough time, it looked like the wardog's teeth might actually penetrate the metal links, or at least expose the spaces between them but Caroline had just regained her feet when the cobra whipped around, as agile as the real thing, and sunk its teeth into the wardog's neck.
Grock let out a single yelp and went limp.
Caroline screamed at the top of her lungs and charged the automaton, which had already let the dog drop to the floor.
Lady Bigfellow's sword did not penetrate the metal bands but the force of the mighty blow sent the iron cobra flying through the air.
Unfortunately, she saw with a thrill of horror that threatened to stop her heart as quickly as any poison might have done that in her rage she hadn't considered where she might send the metal assassin with her swing.
The thing landed in White Lightning's stall, right by the warhorse's right front hoof.
Caroline didn't know when Elrohir's steed and animal companion had awoken, but White Lightning's large brown eyes were now fixed on the iron cobra, which now looked up at the horse with it's blank white eyes, which showed neither pupil nor iris.
Fast as her namesake, White Lightning raised her foot and brought it down on the construct's forward torso, near the head. As she rushed forward to engage again, Caroline saw that the iron-shod hoof had partially crushed one of the serpent's metallic bands and better still, had pinned the thing to the floor.
But then the iron cobra struck again. It still had just enough reach to bite into the fetlock joint just above the horse's hoof.
White Lightning emitted that odd combination of a horse and human scream that only she and Perlial were capable of and immediately collapsed, the serpentine construct nimbly rolling out of the way.
NO NO NO
This was her fault. It was all Caroline's fault. Grock and White Lightning were already dead.
She swung again and slashed the cobra across its face and hood. Slivers of metal went flying, but the serpent coiled itself and was just about to strike again when another blur filled Caroline's vision.
This one silver.
His battlecry echoing off the stable walls, Yanigasawa Tojo's katana was in motion.
The samurai's first strike seemingly missed its target, but then Lady Bigfellow saw that Tojo had deliberately planted his blade underneath the automaton, turning it sideways as he did so. Then, just as the construct was getting ready to strike again, the samurai flipped his sword upwards and the iron cobra was flung into the air, its sinuous body twisting around.
Tojo's second strike clove the iron cobra in two.
Caroline Bigfellow burst into hysterical tears as the others flooded into the stables right behind Tojo.
She didn't care. She had failed. It didn't matter that the thing, which she only now realized must have been the Gray Serpent was destroyed, going still after both ends continued to twitch for several seconds; the iron jaws opening and closing a few final times as if hoping to claim one more victim.
She wasn't fit to be a member of this party. Even Laertes would become a better fighter than she was; she'd seen his potential while training him this past week.
Everything dissolved into tears amid the sound of her own wailing.
"Love! Love!"
Caroline didn't know or care how long her husband had been shaking her by the shoulders, but she tried to wrest herself free when he pulled her into his arms. She had no chance to escape from his superior strength but that didn't stop her from trying.
"Leave me alone!" she shouted at him. "Don't you understand? Grock and White Lightning are dead! I couldn't protect them! I can't protect anyone! Now I know why you're always so overprotective of me! I'm-"
Remarkably, it was not the sound of Argo, who was still vainly trying to speak over her that stopped Caroline's tearful rant, but the sound of a dog whimpering.
It wasn't Dudraug. She knew cooshees never whimpered.
Caroline looked down. Grock, a little unsteady on his feet but looking absolutely unblemished, was rubbing against her shins, trying to comfort her.
The young woman's head snapped around.
Yenom was on his knees in White Lightning's stall, both hands on the horse's flank, muttering indistinctly.
White Lightning began to stir and within a minute with some human assistance had regained her feet.
Some of Caroline's pain drained away; at least her incompetence hadn't been fatal, but that had not been due to anything she had done.
She looked back into the worried face of her husband and began to shake her head violently.
"I still failed, Argo! I wasn't alone for ten seconds when that thing attacked-"
"LISTEN TO ME, WOMAN!" Argo Bigfellow Junior suddenly roared out at the top of his lungs, causing everyone present; human, dog and horse, to start in alarm.
"THAT THING ONLY ATTACKED YOU BECAUSE YOU WERE ALONE!"
Caroline stared at him; her struggles forgotten.
"What?" she whispered.
"Love, that thing- that Gray Serpent- was an assassin. It was designed to stalk and kill victims when they were alone. That's why Noah heard it tonight; it's probably been here for days but kept silent and hidden when hordes of knights and drovers were clomping and clanking all over the place. Only when it thought the coast was clear did it attempt to do its job."
Caroline said nothing as she breathed heavily, trying to take in her husband's words.
"If Tojo had stayed behind, it would have been he who was ambushed," Argo said.
He suddenly leaned in close to whisper the rest of his statement so that only his wife could hear.
"And you know as well as I that his damn sense of honor wouldn't have let him cry out for help."
She just stared at Argo as the ranger pulled back, a smile incongruously appearing on his face.
"And that's why being a coward is always a good thing!" he announced loudly.
All the others, Cygnus and Aslan in particular, were gazing at the big ranger now, but Caroline didn't care.
Disentangling herself from her husband's arms, she walked to Yenom and without a word wrapped him in a hug which lasted halfway back to the inn's front door.
"Someone bring the pieces of that thing back to the common room," she vaguely remembered hearing Elrohir say. "It just gave me an idea."
Everyone was back in the common room, but no one was seated. Everyone was looking at the twin halves of the iron cobra which had been deposited on the table.
That, or they were looking at their team leader. Elrohir had no elaborated on his so-called plan, nor did he seem inclined to do so at the moment.
But the ranger's voice and bearing had a clarity of manner that Caroline had rarely seen there before. It tended to appear only in situations when things looked their most dire.
"Cygnus," he said quietly. "How many doses of poison are in that thing?"
The tall wizard frowned at his friend.
"Elrohir," he said, shaking his head. "I'm no assassin; I have no training in poisons, but I do know they're incredibly dangerous to handle. I'm not going to risk-"
Elrohir held up his hand and cut across the mage's voice.
"Cygnus!" he repeated, more loudly now. "I have no interest in what kind of poison it is and I certainly don't want to try harvesting any of it for our own use; I just want to know how many doses are in there!" he gestured at the Gray Serpent's remains.
Cygnus stared at the Aardian ranger in blank confusion for a moment and then with a shrug turned to Zantac.
"Front and center, Blubberbutt. You're the one with the antitoxin…"
It took about ten minutes for the two wizards to finish their examination.
"Two empty reservoirs and one full," Zantac announced. "Three in total."
Elrohir bit his lip, looking thoughtful.
Then he slowly returned to the chair he had been sitting in earlier and clasped his hands together on the table.
He did not seem to be looking at anyone.
Caroline, still sniffling occasionally, was about to ask him what was going on when a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder and a quick shake from her husband dissuaded her.
Everyone waited in silence.
After perhaps two minutes of throat-clearing, muffled coughs and a clandestine whisper or two, Elrohir finally began to speak.
"This certainly was tragic," he stated without preamble.
The others stared at him, more puzzled than ever.
"Um, Elrohir," Argo began tentatively, "it certainly was a terrifying experience, but as we all seem to have escaped death yet again, I'm not sure what you're talking about."
Elrohir looked over at his fellow ranger with a look of surprise.
"Not sure how you can say that, Bigfellow."
He suddenly smiled.
"Considering that it killed both Caroline and then you, when you rushed in to help."
Argo gaped at his friend- Caroline thought she'd never seen the man she'd known over five years so amazed as she'd seen him these past few days.
But now Elrohir had turned in his seat to regard their guests.
"Yenom. Gastar," he announced solemnly. "We're going to help you with your problems in the Lone Heath after all."
Aslan frowned at that but said nothing.
For her part, Caroline was now seriously starting to worry about their team leader.
"Provided," Elrohir added, "that you're willing to help us with our problem here, of course."
Yenom nodded, a look of befuddlement still on the priest's features.
"We're at your disposal of course, Elrohir."
Elrohir hesitated for a moment.
"We've all suffered at the hands, or jaws if you will, of the Emerald Serpent," he said, his voice growing even stronger with purpose as he continued. "From Tad onwards, people we've cared about-"
The ranger's gaze took in every member of the Tri-Worldians in turn.
"-have suffered and even died. And no matter what we do, it always seems like we're walking into one of the Emerald Serpent's traps."
Elrohir abruptly stood up, heedless of his chair toppling over, a fierce and almost frightening look of determination flooding his face.
"Well, this time," he proclaimed, "that forsaken, son-of-a-bitch egg-hatched abomination is going to slither right into ours."