Rothol

The interior of the cabin was musty and dim. After being outside in the bright sunlight, it took several moments for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Anara let out an involuntary gasp. The walls were covered with shelves, and every shelf was crammed full of stuff – potion ingredients, phials, flasks, distilling equipment. A cluster of tables held court in the center of the room, and they groaned under the weight of the glassware and braziers that topped them. Everywhere there were bottles, some full of liquid, some not. A stuffed chair sat in the corner, stacked high with what appeared to be roots of some kind. There was no place to sit.

Rothol was humming to herself. Standing in front of a brazier, she stirred a pale green liquid that sat in a flask on a grate on top of the coals. Carefully, she added a powder that she'd crumbled between her fingers to the liquid. As the grains fell in, the solution turned briefly orange, and then went back to green. A foul smell began to fill the air – pungent and sharp.

"So, what did you be wantin' with old Rothol, eh? Somethin' to spice up your love life?" She glanced over at the tiefling as she said this, and shook her head. "Not thinkin' you'll want that. Will you be needin' a poison, then, to get rid of those that needs gettin' rid of?" She looked at Anara, who had a shocked look on her face. "Guess it won't be that, either. So spit it out. What's it yer after?" Her attention turned back to the bubbling flask in front of her. "Oh dear, looks like I added too much ground mandrake. Where's that fennel seed?" She went over to one of the numerous bins and began digging through it, occasionally tossing something out on the floor.

"Ma'am, we're here for information, if you have it," began Anara. She waited until the hag was done ferreting through the bin and had returned to the flask. "We need to know if you, or someone you know, can remove a …" Here she paused, looking at Valen.

He took a step towards the old woman. "A sigil of finding. I need it removed as soon as possible." For long minutes there was no sound other than the bubbling of the potion Rothol was concocting and the rasp of the glass stirring rod against the bottom of the flask.

"Well," she said at last, removing the flask to the table top to cool. "I can't do it for yeh. I mostly make potions – all that other magickery I leave to the mages. But I do know someone who probably can, or if he can't he'll know someone else. Doesn't live close by, though. It'd be a long trip for yeh. I don't know if I even remember exactly where it is the bugger lives anymore…" The potion on the table began to turn from green to blue and a white solid began forming at the bottom of the flask.

"What I can do for yeh is to give you a potion that will make it unfindable, until you can get to Elof. Take me a day to concoct it, though. Assumin' I've everything I need…" Carefully she decanted the liquid into a bottle, stoppering it with a cork when it was full. The white solid she scraped off the bottom of the flask, placing it into a small box and tucking it into another bin.

One of the shelves was lined with books, and it was to this that she went next. Her finger tapped each volume as she passed it, until finally she found the one she was looking for and pulled it down. The tome had obviously not been read in quite some time, but her hand unerringly found the right page. "Aha!" She exclaimed, pointing to a line on the parchment. "Alder sap, that's what I'm missin… should be some around here, though." Squinting, she looked up at Anara, a finger tapping the corner of her mouth.

"You'll have to take this," Rothol shoved a spigot into Anara's hands. "An' this," she handed her a glass jar. "Get as much as you can, but fill this jar at least haf full," she said, her hand going to her hip and her fingers tapping on her lower lip. "Now, it's warm today, so the sap should flow pretty easy. It'll be sticky, mind yeh. Try not to get it on yer fingers. There's a stand of alder trees about a five minutes walk that way," she flung her arm out in a southwesterly direction. "Go," she said as she pushed Anara out the door. "Be quick."

The hag turned her attentions onto Valen. "Yeh look strong, son, and I need some iron flakes to do this proper." Digging through a box on one of the shelves, she produced a much battered pot. "This here's solid iron. Just take this," a file found its way into his hands, "an' this," she said, placing a small wooden box into the pot. "Go outside and scrape some filings into this box. I need you to fill it up, son, so don't come back until it's full." Then she turned her back on him and began digging through other boxes on other shelves, muttering to herself as she did.

He stepped out into the bright sunshine, the light making him squint after being in the dark hovel. Once his eyes adjusted, he found a stump, sat down and began pulling the file up and down the side of the pot. At first, the iron flakes fell all over the ground, few landing in the box where he'd placed it between his legs. He set the pot and file down, looking around for a solution. On the porch was a wooden box filled with wood and a few pieces of cloth. What they were doing in there, he didn't know, but one would serve nicely to catch the iron filings.

The file screeched against the pot as he drew it, shaving off tiny pieces of iron onto the cloth. The sun was warm and the task lulled him in with its monotonous movement. In the space between one heart beat and another, the light changed. Snapping out of his reverie, he looked up to see the sky reddening and clouds rolling in out of nowhere. A scowl crossed his face. The clearing was deathly silent. A flash of lightening, followed by the sound of thunder deepened the scowl on his face. He stood, going back to the cabin and grabbing the scythe he'd left propped up by the door. He could hear Rothol humming tunelessly inside, oblivious to what was going on outside.

A dark spot appeared in the middle of the clearing. It pulsed and seethed with an unholy energy, growing larger with each contraction. The air was charged with electricity and ozone, and the hair on his arms stood up. He had run out of time. Quickly he stepped towards the opening portal, hoping to catch whoever it was off guard. With a discharge of energy and a flash of light, the portal opened all the way, and through it stepped someone he had not expected to see. Not yet, anyway. He raised his scythe menacingly, trying to ward off the intruder as the portal popped out of existence behind him.

XXX

Anara closed the spigot as the sap flow slowed to a trickle. The jar was just over half full, which was good enough. Rothol hadn't required more. She screwed the lid on and grimaced. Her hands were covered in sap. She resigned herself to being sticky as she began walking back towards the clearing. Halfway back up the trail, the forest went still and silent. The light looked strange, and the sky was turning red. A storm was blowing in. But it wasn't anywhere near sunset yet. It didn't make any sense. Worried, she walked faster.

A loud popping sound came from the clearing ahead of her, and she began to run. The sound was reminiscent of when Valen had dropped into this world, and she didn't think it was a coincidence. Whoever was gating in now was probably someone looking for Valen. Part of her was glad, thinking that the adventure might soon be over. For better or worse, that thing coming through the portal might take him away. But the bigger part of her was worried and scared.

The ground sloped up toward the clearing. As she crested the rise, she caught a glimpse of what had shown up to claim Valen. Towering over the tiefling was a monster – something she had only heard of in stories people told to frighten children. It was easily two and a half times taller than Valen. Large, leathery wings extended from its back. Gigantic horns curled back from the front of its head, and its skin was red. In one hand, it brandished a fiery whip; with the other it was beckoning Valen with a claw. Its voice carried across the silent landscape, deep and grating.

"There's no escape, you know," it said, looking at Valen. The tiefling brandished the scythe at the demon, trying to look menacing and failing. He simply wasn't large enough to threaten the balor. The beast shook with laughter, the low tones reverberating throughout the clearing. "You think to fight me?" It asked, incredulous and mirthful at the same time. The whip cracked out, catching a tree limb and breaking it. "You cannot hope to win," it said, its look changing from amused to menacing.

"I would rather die fighting, than travel back to the Abyss with you!" shouted Valen. "I will not fight for you any more!" As he said the last he stepped in, swinging the scythe at the balor's knee. Steel and flesh connected, and the scythe ripped a tear below the kneecap of the devil. It howled in fury, lashing out with the whip. But Valen was too close and the whip snapped harmlessly in the air. He stepped in again, slashing at a thigh this time.

This time, the balor reached down with his clawed hand, striking Valen across the chest. The force of the blow sent him skidding on his back across the dirt, the scythe falling to the ground next to him. Anara watched it all happen, frozen with shock and fear. The jar of sap dropped to the ground and she ran screaming into the clearing, "Valen, no!"

The wound looked bad, and she tried to staunch the bleeding. He forced her hands away, fixing her with a red eyed stare. Remembering what had happened the last time his eyes had looked like that, she backed off, stepping carefully around the scythe and other debris that cluttered the ground.

"What's this?" rumbled the demon, clearly amused once again. It took a step closer to the two of them. "A female? Didn't take you long, did it little one?" The beast sounded incredulous. "Perhaps she should join you," it said.

"No!" cried out Valen. "It's me you want! Leave her out of this." Haltingly he got up to his feet, grasping the scythe again and trying to get into a battle stance even as the wound on his chest began pumping out more blood. He wavered a little, standing there, but it only strengthened his resolve to fight the balor or die trying.

Anara couldn't believe what she was seeing. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was screaming in abject fear at the view before her. That aspect of her personality wasn't making it all the way up to the conscious part of her brain, however. The sight of the powerfully built demon before her had her wanting to flee, but try as she might, her legs wouldn't move. All she could do was stand there, stupidly, and wait for the scene to play out before her.

"I grow tired of this game. I will take you and the female back to my tower, and there is nothing you can do to stop it." With his empty hand, the balor made a gesture and a portal began to form behind it. Energy swirled into a vortex, creating a rift that led back to the Abyss. With his other arm, he scooped up Valen and Anara as if they were errant children, and then he stepped through the portal.

With a shock of collapsing air, the portal closed. A few moments later, sound and life returned to the clearing, as if nothing strange had happened there. Rothol stuck her head out the door, wondering what all the noise had been about. "Where did those two get off to?" she asked herself, before shrugging her shoulders and retreating back into her cabin.

XXX

Dayfid clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, urging the horse to move faster up the road. His earlier magnanimity at letting Anara go had evaporated like water in the hot sun, and his wagon was fairly flying up the road to Rothol's hut.

The closer he got to the clearing where the old hag lived, the worse he felt. A sense of unease had crept over him not an hour after he had spoken with Anara, and it had only deepened in the several hours since. The rutted track kept the horse and cart from going too quickly, but still he urged the beast on, risking laming him. Something wasn't right: he could feel it in his bones and taste it on the air.

The wagon clattered into the clearing to find it empty. With a leap Dayfid jumped down and ran to the door of the cottage. Three knocks brought Rothol to the door. "Where's Anara?" he demanded, out of breath and sweating from something other than exertion and heat.

"Who?" she said, wiping her hands on a filthy apron around her waist. "Oh, wait, that young lady and her tiefling friend?" A hand shaded her eyes as she looked around the clearing. "Well, they were here. Seem to have run off though. And I was goin' to make a potion for them…" her words trailed off and she turned back inside. Dayfid followed her in.

"How long ago did you see them?" he asked, turning the woman around forcefully to face him.

"Dunno – time gets away from me it does. Les see… well, about haf an hour ago I heard a big pop. When I stuck my 'ead out the door, they were gone."

Veins stood out on Dayfid's neck as he clenched his fists in frustration. He stomped out of the hovel and into the center of the clearing. The signs were here, for one who could see them. A portal had been opened here, and recently. But Dayfid wasn't versed in portals and planes, so he missed them as he stomped back to his wagon in defeat.