Dagger of Souls

*** Chapter 18 ***

The paladin of Tyr set the feathered quill back in the vial of black ink as he looked over the parchment containing the completed report and plea for immediate action for additional troops for Stalford and Red Larch. Satisfied with the content he rolled up the paper and picked up a thick, red candle from the desk. He tilted the candle and allowed the hot wax to spill over the parchment until a large round wax seal was formed. He removed the signet ring from his finger and pressed it into the wax seal forming an image that identified him as a leader within the holy order of Tyr. He stretched and let out a yawn, the day's events were starting to catch up with him.

Wylan pushed a strand of his jet black hair back away from his forehead as he watched the sergeant across the room from him. "Sir, how long do you think it will take them to send more troops to help us?"

The holy warrior shook his head. "I wish I knew. If we can get this message to them quickly, maybe a ten-day they can gather several hundred troops. The Amnish War depleted many of our forces in Waterdeep, and it's the middle of winter. Trying to find additional troops right now is difficult."

The young guardsman leaned back in his wooden chair and tilted his head. "A ten-day sir? Do you think we will have that long before the orcs move to attack Red Larch?"

"No, if what the druid woman says is true, I'm fairly certain the orcs will not wait ten days before they take action. I wouldn't have figured so many orc clans would band together either, but they must be aware that their presence would not go unnoticed for long. I must go and find another villager that can rush this report to Sir Bromler. Then we will have a funeral service for Rork. I wish we had time to move his body back to Waterdeep and to hold a service for his family, but the situation will not allow it. When this is over we'll transport his ashes back to his loved ones."

The soldier nodded his head. "I'm sure his family will understand, given the situation. Sir, can I ask you something about death and this place you mentioned, the 'Fugue Plane'?"

The sergeant smiled at his curiosity. "Of course you may ask, what do you wish to know about it?"

"Well, sir. I grew up in a poor area of the dock wards and never really heard about the afterlife and that kind of stuff. My folks just told me we are returned to earth and crumble to dust. They don't believe that people have souls."

Sir Dural sighed. "That is unfortunate, Wylan. When someone dies their soul leaves the body and travels to the Fugue Plane. It is said to be a lifeless, grey bland wasteland and all souls are drawn to it. In the middle of it lies the City of Judgment. As the souls walk through the Fugue plane, those who are faithful to their deity are retrieved by their divine agents and brought to the plane of the God's to whom they paid tribute."

The guardsman's face turned a little pale and began to fidget in his chair. "What happens to those who do not believe in gods?"

The servant of Tyr shook his head, and exhaled softly. "Well, those souls will enter the City of Judgment where it said the Faithless, those who do not believe in gods, and the False, those who betrayed their gods or committed heinous crimes are judged. The walls of the city are paved with souls that did not pass judgment, where they are trapped for all eternity."

The soldier gulped loudly and he just sat there blinking for a few moments, until the door opened from outside. The elf stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He pulled the cowl from his head as he walked over to the knight's table. "Sir Dural, I heard you were looking for someone to deliver your message. I've asked Elyria to make the journey and carry your request to Waterdeep. I can bind the letter to her leg and she will fly there and return. It will be much faster than having someone ride there in the snow."

"She'll be able to carry it all the way there. How will she know where to take it?"

"I will have her deliver your report to a close friend. She knows how to find his home in the city. I have written my own quick note asking him to bring it to Sir Bromler with all urgency."

The paladin tapped a finger on his chin as he contemplated. "I was hoping your animal companion would help us scout out the orc base. I am planning on organizing a rescue attempt in the morning and since we cannot use any defensive measures and we are facing a large force of skilled combatants, we need the advantage of knowing the enemy positions and movements.

The elf's face was placid as he responded. "I suspected that you would attempt an assault on the orc fort. Jaceira has an owl companion that she can communicate with as I do. I can ask her if she is willing to have her friend scout from the skies for us."

"Do you agree with the idea of a rescue attempt? I know that the odds are against us but with your arcane abilities and Keltar's stealth, I think we will be able to at least hold them off long enough to free the prisoners and give them time to escape. If Jaceira and Arden aid us then we might be able to route the invaders and destroy the camp."

Einlan folded his arms in the long sleeves of his green robes. "Yes, I agree. We may be able to gather evidence that will lead us to discover this mysterious group of humans that are aiding them."

Dural raised his eyebrows as an idea came to him. "Gansen mentioned to me that the orc chieftain understood common language. If that is true we can attempt to capture him alive and question him about who is pulling their strings." The holy warrior stood up from his chair and handed the parchment to the wizard. "Please have Elyria bring this right away to Waterdeep, and thank her again."

Einlan removed his own parchment with a personal note he wrote and placed it and Dural's report on top of a leather covering. He rolled the bundle up so that the protective leather was on the outside and tied it off with a sturdy string of yarn. He opened the window shudder, letting in a cold breeze into the cottage, causing the fire in the hearth to crackle and flare. The wizard whistled loudly and a few moments later a blue-grey sparrow hawk emerged from the darkness and landed on the window sill. The elf spoke with the bird and it chirped calmly in response. He tied the end of the string attached to the leather covering onto Elyria's leg. He spoke a few more words and the creature took flight with the parchment in tow. "It will take her many hours, but she will push through the night to get there quickly."

The paladin took a wool cloak from the peg next to the door and glanced at the elf as he clasped it on. "That is excellent, thank you. Are you coming to the funeral service for Rork?"

"Yes, of course. It would be my honor to attend."

* * *

The body of the fallen soldier lay on an oil-soaked wooden platform several feet above the snowy ground. Large branches were set upright against the platform forming a sparse fence around it. The corpse was visible between the gaps of the branches in the flickering orange light of the torches burning on posts surrounding it. The night sky had cleared for the first time in several days, allowing the area to be bathed in the pale light of the moon and stars. People from the village stood in line and each came up and laid some personal affects on the corpse, a common offering customary for the human civilizations in the Western Heartlands. There were strips of cloth, scarves, baskets, wool hats, and other small personal items that began to cover Rork's torso and legs. Just about the entire town had attended the service, as did the entire group sent from Waterdeep. Even the druid and her woodland companion attended the gathering, standing with Keltar and Einlan as they watched the procession file through to lay items on the fallen soldier.

Once the last villager dropped off his personal offering and walked back to the gathered crowd, the priestess moved to the center in front of the funeral pyre. She was dressed in an extravagant, deep blue dress with fine silver embroidery along the edges, several stars and a large crescent moon adorned the front and back. The contours of the fitted dress displayed the shapely curve of her slim body and the long, wide sleeves flowed around her arms like the wings of an angel. Her chestnut colored hair was elegantly wrapped in a string of grey pearls. Sir Dural had a hard time believing that just two hours ago this woman was smashing orcs with a deadly mace. He looked over to Keltar, who stared at the priestess almost unblinking for several minutes and ignored the conversation between the elf and the druid beside him.

Cera raised her slender arms in the air, holding her hands up to get everyone's attention. "Ladies and Gentleman, Thank you all for joining us in honoring this hero who died to protect the inhabitants of this town. It is a sad day and we mourn the loss of this young man, but we also celebrate his life and honor his memory by coming together to pay tribute to him. His fellow soldiers will miss him greatly. They have told me that Rork had a great sense of humor and often a sincere smile on his face. He appreciated life and joined the guard to protect others. He died fulfilling that virtuous goal. He may have experienced some degree of fear when the orcs attacked this town, but he knew his duty and he faced the threat without hesitation, bravely laying down his life so that others would live free of the oppression of these war-like humanoids that have caused so much grief and suffering. He is a hero not only to the people of Stalford, but to all people of the land who can gain comfort and hope knowing that soldiers like Rork serve to help protect them from all those who would prey on innocent men, women and children." Cera walked over and grabbed a torch from the nearby stand and held it up. "May the gods that protect and nurture us, guide his soul to live with them through all eternity and honor him as he honored those in this life. We commit his body to ashes, but his spirit shall rise forth and begin its journey in the afterlife." She lit the oil drenched wooden platform and it began to brighten the night sky as the congregation watched the flames engulf the young man in a fiery blaze. Several minutes later the priestess turned once again to the crowd. "His soul has risen, and the gods have accepted him. Go home now and do not mourn for long, but celebrate the life and freedom his sacrifice has given you."

There was not a dry eye among the women of town, including Hadenna who was the first to come up and hug the Selunite woman for her wonderful tribute to Rork. Most of the town came up to thank Cera and gave a solemn bow and prayers to the ashes of the soldier that died for them.

Sir Dural came up after most of the townsfolk finished paying their respects, and went down to one knee, bowed and said a solemn prayer for Rork's soul. He then rose up and went over to Cera. "You did a wonderful job and I greatly appreciate the kind words you said on his behalf. I only wish his family was here to see your lovely tribute. Unfortunately we must gather together now and prepare, we are going to try and rescue the captives in the morning and destroy the orc base."

Cera cocked her head at an angle as she replied, "I thought that you were going to wait for reinforcements."

"I was, but new information has come to light that has convinced me that we must act immediately. The orc fort that's being built is big enough for over a hundred troops. This means that more orcs are likely to move into it and if we don't destroy it now, they may complete the fortification and it will be very difficult and cost many lives to take it out later."

The Selunite simply nodded, "I understand. Keltar introduced me to Jaceira and Arden, with their help I think we stand a good chance at success. We were fortunate to have lost only one soldier in this last attack, your men did a fine job and I think it had a lot to do with your own courage and leadership."

The paladin could only manage a half-hearted smile at the compliment as he watched the glowing embers housing another body lost under his command. "I only hope after this loss sinks in that they will not falter in the battle to come. We are meeting in Holtin's house to start on our battle plan for tomorrow. Jaceira and Arden have agreed to aid us in the attack."

"I will help as well," stated a voice from behind the knight. He turned around to see the broad shouldered farm boy standing there, pushing his wavy brown hair around his ear.

"Klenn, I'm sorry but I need you to stay here and help defend the town while we travel to the orc camp. The town will be at risk while we are away, and you can help lead the other villagers in defending it."

The young man had the look of defiance as he folded his muscled arms across his wide chest. "We have people that can shoot bows in defense of town if there is an attack. The others will take refuge and follow your defensive plan. I've done all you've asked of me, sir. I trained long and hard and I want to help free my friends from their captivity. You are short a soldier. The more men you have the better chance at winning the battle. You need my help. The prisoners will recognize me and I can help lead them away to safety, easier than any of your men."

"I would have to ask your father if he would allow it."

"With all do respect, sir. I am of the age that I can take a wife, bear a child and provide for my family. I think that gives me the right to make my own decision about my life and the risks I can take."

The sergeant's scrutinizing gaze met that of the young villager, and he saw confidence and determination. "If you are under my command, then this will be the last time you argue with me. Understood?"

The young farmer stood straight up, puffed his chest out and gave a salute. "Yes, sir," he stated with the exuberance of a new recruit.

"Good, your first order is to find some villagers that you trust to relieve the soldiers of watch duty so they can get some needed rest before our assault tomorrow. Dismissed, soldier."