IV: Look Who Lives in the Mountains (part one)
"I say we camp," Khelgar grumbled, sitting on the horse behind Adele. "Got ma guts jolted on this mare already. An' it's getting dark."
"I second that!" Neeshka added. The tiefling only recently managed to calm down the horse – not without Elanee's help – as the animal was pretty nervous about an actual half-demon on its back. "And I feel like having a bite."
The road they took had finally made it to the mountains, became narrow and winding and absolutely empty. Rare gnarled trees on each side of it were the best proof of apparent water problems in Sword Mountains.
Not that Adele cared for that too much. She just wanted to find the missing Waterdeep emissary she was sent to find and be done with it. Her Watch service was definitely getting much longer than she expected. Much longer and much bloodier.
Moreover, they made her lieutenant.
They really did.
It had happened a while ago already, but Adele still felt somewhat dumbstruck by the fact. Here she was, doing some common Watch job, wasn't even able to prevent the fire, that burnt down the Docks' headquarters (Qara was actually prepared to get accused for that too, but somehow she was fortunate this time) – and they made her lieutenant. Surely, she took care of Moire, which probably made a lot of lives safer (...and, I'll bet, easier even for other thugs) – but it definitely wasn't anything someone else couldn't have done. That made Adele wonder if all other Watchmen were usually spending their shifts just sitting on their ass and playing cards – seeing as how she was the one to get promotion.
Then again, according to Cormick and Brelaina's talks and moods, that could be exactly the case.
But still no luck with getting access to Blacklake District. And the hope of getting it any time soon was slowly dissolving, as she appeared too handy for the Watch. Like a personal mercenary.
As she was heading to Sword Mountains, Adele almost felt like praying to some – any – god that will bother to listen, to spare her from all the killings on behalf of Neverwinter that no doubt were yet to come before she is over with all this story.
Almost.
"Camping sounds good," Adele agreed, reining her horse back. "Besides I have a bad feeling that we took the wrong turn to that Old Bowl Well."
"…Old Owl Well it is, I believe," Elanee muttered thoughtfully. The druidess was quiet lately (well, even quieter than usual) – thanks to the trip to Skymirror that had left her dispirited.
"It can be Bold Towel Yell for all I care," Adele replied, making Neeshka and Qara snicker. "Just want to get there and out as soon as possible." She glanced around in a futile hope that somehow she'll manage to tell the right way from the wrong one, then sighed and turned to the druidess.
Noticing her questioning stare, Elanee shook her head. "Don't look at me. These trees are so old and dried from the inside - they cannot tell themselves where they are."
"Great," Qara concluded with her usual sarcasm, grim and gleeful at the same time. "So what, trees can have senile marasmus, too?"
"Don't ya worry, lasses," Khelgar answered and jumped off the horse, raising a small cloud of rock dust as he landed. "Ya won't get lost in the mountains with the dwarf."
"Funny," Neeshka rolled her eyes. "Seeing that we already are."
Despite herself, Adele smiled silently, reaching the back of her head, pulling off a wattled leather bracelet she used as a fillet and tousling her hair wearily. She was not happy with the idea of dragging her friends to the mountains on this "go there I don't know where, find that I don't know what" mission, but all her attempts to keep them away from her work and troubles had failed miserably the moment Khelgar heard the word "orcs". Neeshka didn't really care for where they were going – as long as they were going together. Elanee jumped on the opportunity to get a distraction from the city, and Qara wasn't to miss another chance to get away from cleaning the tables and serving drinks in the Flagon.
So… here they were – wherever that "here" was.
Leaving Elanee to feed and soothe the horses, Adele spent some time just wandering around their make-shift camp to limber up her stiffened legs and spine. Neeshka began to unpack their saddle-bags - crammed full by Duncan, but visibly growing thinner as their journey continued. Khelgar cut down a few dry snags that pretended to be trees, pulled out a bundle of thorny scrubs and piled it all up on a flat stone to make fire. Neeshka started to look for a flint, but Qara just measured her with an insolent stare, snapped her fingers – and the firewood blazed up.
The light from the campfire diluted the darkness a bit. Stars twinkled above the coal-black skyline of mountains; the wind was howling somewhere in the distance, but never made its way down in a small valley they chose for their camp. Everyone felt a little uneasy about the fact that there might be orcs gadding about – everyone but Khelgar, of course – but still the travelers managed to relax after a long day.
Adele was already on her way to the others, occupied with arguing about who was going to take the first shift – when suddenly the woman was stopped by barely noticeable movement and quiet mumblings in the high bushes to her right. She froze and cast a sidelong look at her companions who apparently also picked up a strange noise and fell into silence. Unsheathing her rapier, Adele took a step toward the bushes and warily moved away some branches…
…and lowered her blade, looking in wide-eyed astonishment at a skinny shaggy gnome, who was jumping from one foot to the other with his back to the woman.
"And this here is whitethistle. Can give you the runs, you know," he explained – seemingly to himself - staring at the bushes tensely. "Wish I could think of a suitable rhyme to it…"
Probably from a great mind exertion he suddenly spun round on his heels and stopped stock-still, looking at Adele with his huge light eyes.
"Oh my!" he exclaimed, his face breaking into a radiant smile. "Well met, miss! Sorry, didn't even see you standing there. Thought you might be a Wendersnaven at first, but… I can see you, so I guess that discounts that."
Adele blinked: "Wender-what?"
"Wendersnaven," the gnome repeated and nodded expertly. "It doesn't roll off the tongue too easily, so don't worry. Don't say it too loudly if you're not sure though - they may take offence."
"Look at that," Qara muttered. "And here I thought Khelgar had problems."
"What 're ya talkin' about?" the dwarf bridled up. "This gnome's mad!"
Hearing their voices the gnome in question peeped out from the bushes, smiled broadly and walked towards the fire with vigorous strides.
"My, what a picturesque company you have here!" he took a seat near the dwarf. "And I thought I'll camp out here alone, play a tune or three, see if I can catch the attention of Wendersnavens… No luck though, but luck is what you make it, so I've been working hard," he took a flask out of the hand of Khelgar, who was too stunned to react, and took a sip, beaming again. "Oh, but where are my manners! I'm Grobnar Gnomehands, pleasure to meet you all! Do you happen to know any songs or tales? I collect them. Quite a collector, and maker, and teller of tales I am. Working on a tale myself, you know, and the act of composing - it is a tale in itself!"
"Wait a moment," Neeshka muttered mistrustfully. "You are a bard?"
"Indeed! I, Grobnar, am a philosopher, a poet, a cataloguer of flora, fauna, and all things wild and all things mechanical. And I can give it rhythm," without even looking, he returned now-empty flask to Khelgar, who was regarding Grobnar with dismal glare. "It really helps to write poems and songs, you know. But of course it all starts with a tune…" he looked around, "...say, about that bush, or that root, or that cloud, or that boot..."
"...and then, after I had welded the spring-mounted mechanical shield to my codpiece, I fired it - only to be thrown back almost thirty yards right into a wall! Stung quite a bit, I'll say that much, but what I learned was... was…" Grobnar fell silent.
Adele jerked her head up from her bended knees, waking up, and ran her blurry gaze over their camp. The sun was already up, and its rays were rolling down mountainsides, filling the valley. Her companions were sleeping around the extinct campfire, only Grobnar was sitting in exactly the same pose she left him in.
"Well," he concluded, staring into space. "I must say, all that discussion has really built up a hunger. Lost all track of time."
"Mmm…" Adele rubbed her face. "What… what happened?"
"Oh, nothing, miss," Grobnar waved his hand, reaching into his pack for a hunch of bread. "You were listening so intently that you closed your eyes and even put your head down on your knees. Made some funny laughing noises at the right times too - almost thought you were snoring. No trouble, really, I can understand that! I myself barely notice the world around once I get carried away by a story. If closing your eyes helps you concentrate – by all means! I knew this mage once who…"
"Oh gods," Neeshka groaned, opening her eyes and seeing that the gnome keeps talking. "He's not finished with that codpiece story yet?"
"Ah! Thanks for reminding me!" Grobnar cheered. "Where was I?"
"…shit…"
"So - I was walking bow-legged for a week! And it just so happens that I…" he paused, noticing others get to their feet, and shrugged. "But we can talk about it on the way."
The five of them exchanged cautious glances.
"…On our way?" Neeshka finally managed.
"Yup," the gnome presented them with another shining smile. "Well, wherever you are going."
"You want to come with us?" Elanee clarified, giving Grobnar one last chance to dispel apprehensions.
"Yup. Why not?"
"I'll kill myself," Qara promised grimly.
Adele cast a glance at Grobnar who was already busy with packing and cleared her throat: "Look, just… Can you tell us if this road leads to Bold… er… Old Owl Well?"
"No, it doesn't, actually," the gnome answered, jumping in attempt to fling a saddle-bag on the horse. His fair hair was standing on end and made him look like a live loony dandelion.
"…And which one does?"
He thought for a second, then swung round and pursed his lips:
"Let's see… if the sun is there… and I'm here… and that cliff… Upon the whole I've no idea. And by that I mean – yes, I have one. It's just hard to explain. But I can show you."
Adele sighed, looking at her friends: "Guess we have no choice then… He is coming with us."
"Oh, excellent!" Grobnar beamed. "You won't regret this, I promise! Well, too many times, that is…"
"Aaaaand here we are!" Grobnar exclaimed.
Adele strained her eyes, trying to ignore the bright sunlight hurting them a bit, and saw outlines of an unfinished stone wall on the horizon, swarmed by people. Spurring up their horses they finally reached the Greycloaks camp, located in the ruins of some settlement – a small village, perhaps. And indeed, in the middle there was a large well, after which the place was probably called.
"This is the Well of Owls," Grobnar smiled. "…Or whatever it is called."
"Thought out a couple of names ourselves already," Neeshka grinned, jumping off the horse.
Adele also dismounted from her horse, sliding her gaze around the camp, numerous dusty tents and scurrying soldiers, who seemed to be much more interested in constructing the wall than bothering with the newcomers. A watchmen merely glanced at the seal dangling on the roll of official papers Adele had, made sure that, no, neither her nor any of her companions were orcs, and settled with that.
"What a dump," Qara murmured loftily and cast a sidelong look at Adele. "Your name for the place was more suitable, I guess – one has to yell for towels here, that's for sure. Don't even want to ask where they wash themselves."
"True warriors don't worry 'bout such trifles!" Khelgar stated.
The girl eyed him with distaste: "…Obviously."
"I'll stable the horses," Elanee volunteered, apparently wanting to avoid listening to another squabble, and stroked the bay forehead of her mare lovingly.
"Thanks," Adele smiled at the druidess and looked around. "Alright, money-prize to the one who'll find the guy in charge here."
"How much exactly?" Neeshka inquired.
"I want those walls up by evening, no excuses!" a harsh commanding voice came from somewhere behind the fortifications. "The orcs aren't going to stop attacking just because we need to catch our breath."
"Too late, I win," Adele grinned, heading towards the voice.
Unlike Qara, she felt at ease among the plain setting of a military camp - it reminded her of West Harbor's militia training grounds. Gliding effortlessly between tents, building sites and omnipresent Greycloaks, she found a stocky fair-bearded dwarf taking apart one of the 'Cloaks. Despite the fact that the man was actually twice taller than the dwarf, the latter managed to hang over the guy – at least psychologically.
"Sir," the Greycloack tried to make excuses, "the men are having a hard time finding the materials…"
The dwarf narrowed his eyes, cutting off all further words the Greycloak could have come up with:
"You're telling me they can't find any stones?" he wondered. "We're in the middle of the blasted mountains! Unless you'd like to report to Nasher that we're overrun because we couldn't find rocks, I suggest you drive some sense into your men and get that wall built. Now."
"Yessir," the man saluted, looking as if he had hard time keeping himself from running. "I'll see to it, sir."
"I swear I've lost years off my life trying to get this rabble fit for service," the dwarf grumbled, following the retreating Cloak with his eyes, then noticed Adele and furred an eyebrow perplexedly. "And who are you supposed to be? Reinforcements?"
"I'm looking for the one in charge," Adele answered simply.
"Well, you've found him," he nodded. "I'm Callum. Commander Callum. Sent here to secure the Old Owl Well. And unless you are here to give me some help, then I don't have time for you, beg your pardon."
"Lieutenant Farlong, sir," Adele said, matching his pragmatic tone. "Sent to escort the Waterdeep emissary back to Neverwinter."
"Issani? He hasn't arrived yet."
And why am I not surprised?
Callum inspected the woman once again:
"City Watch, aren't you? I was informed of your arrival, hoped to have some better news for you. My best scout is out there right now, trying to find any sign of the emissary. As soon as I hear something, you'll be the first to know," he shot a glance at her companions and looked at Adele again, presuming she was the leader of the band. For some reason everyone they met presumed that. "And I'm expecting you all not to sit around, but actually help us against the orcs if needed…"
Before he could even finish the sentence, a loud tolling of a bell came from the nearest watchtower. Callum grunted:
"Now, wouldn't you know it! Were they eavesdropping on us or what?" he drew his weapon, raising his voice: "Greycloaks, to arms! For Neverwinter!"
About half a dozen of orcs rushed into the camp, but were dispatched by the defenders so easily that the fighters barely paid attention to them, quickly returning to their duties. Evidently, such attacks were an everyday routine around here.
"Another raiding party," Callum explained, giving a mild kick to the nearest stinking corpse. The dead orc was baring his teeth dully at the empty sky. "We're lucky to haven't been attacked in full force," he sighed, raising his head and looking at the horizon. "Wish I knew who it is out there keeping the orcs distracted."
"Someone else is fighting the orcs in these mountains?" Adele asked, almost surprised.
"Yes. Someone out there gathered a group of locals, appeared to be some sort of a guerilla band. He and his men have been attacking orc patrols for some time already; give us a chance to rebuild our defenses."
"Then he is among the good guys," Adele shrugged.
"…Yes," Callum drawled uncertainly and shook his head. "I don't know. I've been at this long enough to learn you need to control the battlefield to win. And this unknown friend of mine I can't control."
"But you still get help, even if uncontrollable."
"Count my blessings and all that, huh? But I've learned to be suspicious of gifts until I know who the benefactor is."
"Why don't you just get in touch with him then?"
"Eh, that's the problem. He's not the one for talking. Every time I send someone to contact him, he and his men move their camp. The orcs call him "Katalmach". They say he attacks without warning… and without regard for his enemies' numbers."
"'Katalmach'?" Khelgar combed his beard thoughtfully. "That's not a name orcs give lightly, ya know… That's the name they give to warriors who lose themselves in battle."
"It is odd that even orc trackers couldn't find him," Elanee pointed out. "Or that he would risk stirring up so many tribes in this region."
Oh great, some mad berserker in the mountains – just what I need to make my day.
"Still, it's kinda stupid not to play the odds," Neeshka remarked. "Someone like that doesn't last very long," she tarried for a bit, and then smiled. "Well, except us, it seems."
"Maybe this Kettle-head person simply lacks basic maths skills," Grobnar suggested. "I mean, for example, if we were to face three hundred orcs, the odds… well if you carry the two... might be..." he fell silent, looking at the sky and moving his lips mutely, counting in his mind.
"In any case, sounds like someone who simply wants to die to me," Callum inferred. "If we weren't here, it only be a matter of time before all the tribes in the Well hunted down this… Katalmach – and put an end to his crusade. Well, the Hells with him for now. I have enough on my hands already with…"
"Commander Callum!" shouted a guard on the watchtower. "Scout returning!"
"Ah, good," Callum smiled briefly at Adele. "Let's hope he brings news on the emissary."
A young man covered with sweat and dirt ran up to the dwarf and saluted mechanically, trying to catch his breath: "Sir…"
"William," Callum nodded. "Did you locate emissary Issani?"
"No, sir. But I came across his escorts. Killed to the last men, but no signs of the emissary," he took a huge gulp from his water skin and dried his lips. "Orcs, sir. They must've got him."
"Great," Callum grunted and looked at Adele. "Well, seems you've got a new assignment."
Uh-huh, tah-dah and all that…
Adele sighed: "Any ideas who could have taken Issani?"
"I'd say Logram Eyegouger's clan – it is the biggest one. Logram is the one to organize orcs in the region – and to plan the assaults on the Well. Wish we could reach him and put an arrow through his scull. If we could, the orcs would have turned on each others in a heartbeat. But since we have no idea where his lair is…" Callum shrugged. "If I were you, I'd start looking at the Bonegnasher lair, northeast of here. Their leader, Yaisog Bonegnasher, is old and smart enough to make a deal…" he grinned, "…if forced to, of course."
"My, Bonegnasher is an interesting name," Grobnar muttered. "I wonder what he would've done to earn it."
Callum shot a puzzled glance at the gnome, but Adele just smiled at the dwarf, hoping that smile will explain him everything about Grobnar. Apparently, it did.
"Anyway," he added, "good luck to you. And if you happen to run into that madman who's attacking the orcs out there, let him know I'd like to have a little chat with him."
"Sure," Adele looked down at Grobnar, who was already step-dancing in anticipation. "And you are staying here."
"I am?" Grobnar asked in clear surprise. "Why? I've always wanted to visit orcs caves! It must be so interesting there!"
"It's too dangerous."
"Why?"
"Look, Grobnar, you really should stay… I mean… Well, the soldiers here need some inspiration. So… sing them a song or two, boost up their morale…"
"Ah! Of course, miss Adele," the gnome smiled happily. "I'd be glad to!"
"Attaboy," she breathed out with relief and turned to others. "Ready?"
"Crush some orcs?" Khelgar gave a laugh. "Always!"
"No need to ask him things like that," Neeshka rolled her eyes. "Ever."
