Hey, y'all!
Been a while since I updated; you know how it is, you go on a vacation, then come home to a mess, and my laptop was stolen; getting a new one was actually the easiest part, changing all my passwords was a headache. Would you believe that the easiest website to get back on was the New York Times? Getting back onto the online game sites and Wikis all needed email confirmation and security codes, I mean, what ever happened to entering your mother's maiden name?
Still, as far as my vacations go, this was a good one. Cleared my head, gave me some good inspiration, enough to crack through a lot of writers' block. As you can see. I'm also getting quite a bit done on BLOCKBUSTER and some other minor projects I had put off for a while.
So, sit back and grab a beverage, Shadowchasers: The Demonskar Legacy resumes!
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Shadowchasers
The Demonskar Legacy
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Chapter Eight
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Restless
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I hate riding backwards.
Of course, Nichole's sentiments weren't uncommon for anyone who has ever ridden a train. She knew she, Red, Sonya, and Maddie were lucky to get four seats together. Francis, Hank, and Malakar had insisted on standing. Chivalrous as it was, Nichole was wondering if they had expected her to try harder to talk them out of it.
Quite simply, the train was packed. Not only were many of the Alleybashers onboard with a lot of space allocated for cargo, a lot of folks from Cauldron had business in one of the other three towns, needing to commute every few days. They had now planned to stay until this problem was worked out, and most had taken their families with them. Many, it seemed, had second homes there - and right now, preferred them to Cauldron.
Something was up. She could feel it.
She almost envied Red Feather right now. The elf had her nose buried in that journal since they had taken their seats. Nichole was never able to read while traveling forward on a train, much less backwards, without getting motion sick.
"Interesting book there, Red?" asked Maddie.
"Indeed," said Red Feather. "Rather… Riveting."
Maddie had been the one to find the journal in an abandoned (or rather, evacuated) part of the Ebon Triad's compound. Someone had gone to great lengths to hide it, and someone else had gone to greater lengths to recover it. The journal hadn't been warded or magically protected, but it had been written in the language of the drow, an archaic form of elven that few modern-day drow ever bothered to learn. Scribes were often unwilling to work with languages like this, due to the dark nature of their origins. Goblins like Candi, however, cared more about profit than about superstition.
"Listen to this…" started Red. She started to read, slowly, as even she had trouble figuring this out. Candi had fortunately provided footnotes at several places as an aid. While her commentary was whimsical and snarky, such a tone was appreciated, given how grim the text seemed.
(Going to be honest, Red, this wasn't an easy job. Not something I'd suggest reading before bed. Given the content, I believe this was written by a male dark elf alchemist, but I have no idea what clan or enclave he belonged to; names in the journal are kind of scarce. Also, while months and days were provided, years were not, so I have no idea when this was all written. Could have been a few years ago, could have been a few hundred - Candi)
March 15th: The Matroness came by with another surprise inspection. That bitch simply does not know when to quit. Like before, she failed to find the incriminating evidence she hoped for, not that there was any. I think she does this simply to annoy me. Fortunately, she has yet to find this journal or my notes on my observations, her paltry magic unable to break my wards that keep them concealed.
The visions grow stronger and clearer. While I cannot yet decipher her words, I believe the Dark Lady is attempting to speak to me directly! If so, my trials and efforts were not for naught.
Soon, very soon, that harlot will discover what retribution means…
(Okay, I'm assuming the "Dark Lady" is, uhm, the drow goddess. Sure, you know who I'm talking about. They don't like saying her name, I mean I sure don't! She's kind of like Voldemort.)
"Lolth, right?" said Sonya, though even she seemed a little reluctant to say the name.
Red Feather slowly nodded. You didn't need to know about Shadowkind to be afraid of spiders, and some believe fear of them originated with the goddess of the drow - she was a being of darkest nightmares. One legend among elves was that the reason they didn't truly sleep was a boon given by the more benign gods, specifically to protect them from being seduced, enthralled, and enslaved by Lolth, who had ensnared many through vivid nightmares. Given other myths about her, it was less farfetched than it sounded. She continued to read.
March 17th: The visions last night were… Forceful. That's the only word that seems appropriate. While I still cannot interpret the Dark Lady's words, they seemed demanding and threatening. I remain unaltered, so I assume my soul has, for now, been spared. What is her reason? There must be some purpose for these visions.
"Not sure about that," said Sonya, "Lolth could just be a douche."
"Probably," added Nichole, "But you know what they say about 'In mysterious ways'."
"Attention passengers," said a voice on the loudspeaker, "we will be making an unscheduled stop seven kilometers outside of Redgorge in about five minutes. Anyone planning to disembark, please be ready to do so."
"That's odd, there's no station there."
The comment came from Malakar, who was leaning over Nichole's seat and listening to Red. "Eh, don't mind me, Sister Red Feather, please continue."
"Okay, let us see here…"
March 19th: The visions came to me in my sleep last night. I had ended the ceremony, but they came on their own!
It wasn't anything I remembered, nor anything I had researched. Imagine an entire mausoleum becoming a living being, who was then pinning you to the floor while screaming blasphemous insults into your very soul, for eight straight hours. That's the best way I can describe it.
This is special. The Goddess does not grant such boons on a whim. As terrifying as these visions have become, I must know more…
"Yike," said Maddie. "This is heavy."
"Doesn't sound like Lolth's style at all," said Nichole. "Sounds more like Vecna would do."
"Whoever it was, it sounds like a horror movie," said Francis. Red looked up, and saw he was listening while leaning over her chair. "Don't stop, this is getting interesting."
It seemed like a lot of other nearby passengers were taking interest in the story too. She nodded, turned a page, and resumed at another footnote, where Candi's commentary seemed to indicate she was a much better scribe than her frivolous personality had suggested:
(Red, I think the author here may have been expecting one of the dreaded chwi - don't ask me how to pronounce that - or Punishments, a series of trials and tests the Goddess uses to weed out the unfit. While I'm hardly an expert in this subject, it clearly does not match anything described by any drow I've spoken to.
I should also note the following two entries showed steady signs of the handwriting style deteriorating. Spelling and grammar errors started to become more frequent, and the penmanship started to become sloppy and jumbled. Given the content, I assume this was due to exhaustion and fatigue on the author's part. I had to ad-lib a few lines to make it understandable.)
March 21st: That accursed Matroness came by again, childing me for oversleeping. It was almost funny.
But she has a point. These nightmares are getting more realistic and intense, keeping me from true rest, and I am still no closer to discovering their meaning than I was when they started.
March 25th: My brief audience with the High Priestess was neither productive nor pleasant. I do believe the remark she made in Draconic was an expletive. At least she listened, and her reply has confirmed the worst. She doubted the nightmares could ever have come from the Dark Lady, saying they sounded more like an omen from Ghaunadaur. I nearly asked how she was able to make such a comparison, but I caught myself. No point in tempting fate.
I certainly have never attempted to channel That Which Lurks. Has the Matroness done so in order to sabotage my work? I never dreamed she was capable of it, but if she is indeed allied with such an abomination…
It will be a risk, but if I relax the safety wards slightly in my procedure and devote more energy towards interpretation, the next vision I receive may have a clearer voice. If I find proof the bitch is consorting with That Which Lurks, all this bedlam will be worth it.
Red Feather stopped again, shaking her head. The train started to slow as it approached the stop.
"Ghaunadaur… Isn't that -"
"YES!" snapped Nichole, cutting Maddie off harshly. It wasn't wise to start talking about Ghaunadaur either, as that was a name no sane being liked saying. It was an ancient embodiment of Madness, which was all the description needed.
Red Feather got the hint and went on:
(Red: The next entry was mostly illegible gibberish. I made out a few words, including repeated use of "demon", "sand", and "Smoking Eye". The entry after looked like something a kindergartner might have written, both in penmanship and articulation, or rather, lack of either. The following was the only part of that entry that made sense, and btw, the date is not a mistake on my part.)
March 38th: Could almost make out words this time. Close to understanding. Must continue. Must discover what it is trying to say. Must continue. Must know the secret.
(Red: The next entries were neater and had no errors at all, but also seemed overly-formal. I believe the "Quill" the author speaks of a few entries down is a Quill Pen of Dedicated Dictation, a magical pen that writes by itself, writing down whatever you say out loud. Being a scribe myself, I can only dream of owning a tool like this, I've seen a few for sale, and my whole college tuition was cheaper! It seems a waste of magic for anyone to use it to write in a mere journal.)
"Fawley has one of those," said Francis. "He said he thinks it might have been invented by a wizard who had arthritis."
April 7th: I have canceled the experiment. Whatever great secret the abomination is trying to share is not worth the terror I must endure.
I tried to stay awake as long as I could, only to feel the beast approach as I started to close my eyes. I've procured a supply of Terran brandy, and it should allow me to stave off sleep for a while.
I've managed to find the notes from an old experiment I almost forgot about from my apprentice days, one where I managed to brew an Elixir of Deep Dreaming. Hopefully, I can use these old notes to create the more advanced Elixir of Dark Sleep. These notes are old and moldering, but hopefully enough of them remain.
So tired… Tired…
(Red: Me again. In case a narc like you doesn't know what Terran brandy is, it sure ain't liquor. It's a powerful stimulant that you can take to prevent sleep. My mentor warned me about using that stuff. Personally, I just use strong coffee and chocolate when I need to pull an all-nighter. Cheaper and safer.
I had to consult that alchemist I mentioned to find out what those two Elixirs are. Deep Dreaming supposedly gives you a day's worth of energy with three hours' sleep. Dark Sleep is something that lets you sleep longer, and without dreams. It makes sense.)
Of course, all of them certainly knew what Terran brandy was, and it was very illegal, for obvious reasons. However, the ominous mood was broken by Nichole.
"Malakar, are you sure there's no station here?"
"I never knew of any."
"Well, there's certainly one now."
Everyone looked out the window next to her and looked out at the rocky expanse where the train was now stopped. Some crude wooden huts and lodges had been hastily built - obviously with imported lumber, as there were no trees around here - and a group of soldiers - many of them Alleybashers - were in the process of putting up tents.
"This is a bivouac," said Hank. "Maybe the folks in Cauldron are expecting trouble here."
"Or maybe they plan to start trouble here," said Nichole. "Seems this is where all the cargo and troops are going."
Of course, one benefit to this was that the train car could clear out, and seats became available. Hank, Francis and Malakar could finally sit down, Malakar groaning and taking his shoes off. After considering this new development for a few minutes, Red Feather continued to read.
April 23rd (Red: Can you believe this? The poor guy was using that crap to stay awake for two weeks!): The Matroness came by again, scolded me for my shoddy work and failure to achieve anything useful. The tone she used while emphasizing the word "failure" was proof enough to me that she has swayed the High Priestess against me. For all I know, my death warrant has already been signed.
Ironically, I have discovered the formula I needed to brew the Elixir of Dark Sleep; I had to pilfer it from the library like a common thief, only to find that the means to brew it had been at my disposal for months. Now, however, the toll the brandy has taken upon me makes anything requiring manual dexterity impossible. I can't even hold a test tube for longer than a few seconds without dropping it. If not for the Quill, I wouldn't be able to write this entry.
I care little. Not that I wouldn't welcome death at this point. The enchantments that power the Quill are starting to expire, and I doubt the magic is enough now to write more than another page. Once I finish this entry, I will use the last of my strength to place this journal and my notes in the lab vault; they will be safe from her there, the wards I have placed on it have foiled her and other would-be thieves for over a decade.
Should you be reading this then, your magic is likely far stronger than hers, and should she still live, I offer advice should you consider trusting her - don't. Her silver tongue speaks only lies and any promise she makes is of no worth. Should you have cause to oppose her, I have additional advice. She always uses the citadel bathhouse one hour after evening repast, ordering the staff to leave and stationing two guards outside to assure her privacy. In my most ambitious of times, I pondered the idea of ambushing her there while she was alone, naked, and helpless, killing her in the most humiliating way imaginable.
I ask but one favor in return. Before you slay her, let her know that she was betrayed by Kaurophon of Masron.
(Red: BINGO! The author has a name-O! No idea who he is, of course, I couldn't find any info on that name, nor can I find any information on "Masron". Still, I think I can give a brief hypothesis here. Given my limited knowledge of drow politics (it's a theological matriarchy), his constant rantings up to now of his rival being an inferior wizard yet holding the rank of "Matroness" doesn't seem to make sense, even in a society like theirs. If that were indeed the case, Kaurophon here would likely be her concubine or consort, concepts which, for drow males, are both synonymous with "slave".
I believe Kaurophon was - or is - a specialist in Abjuration magic, while his rival specializes in Evocations, the opposing school of magic. Evocation is a far more popular choice for apprentice wizards, the thrill of being able to churn out Lightning Bolts and Fireballs with ease being a temptation to young students. Those with the patience and dedication to study Abjuration see invokers as violent and impulsive powder kegs of magic that cause more disasters than they prevent.
IMOHO, what we have here is a story of the Tortoise and the Hare, but with a much more egotistical tortoise.
I thought for a minute or two that this was Kaurophon's last entry, and no doubt, he believed the same when he wrote it. I - and he - were wrong. The rest of the journal seems like a plot twist even the most renowned of authors might have found odd. I should note, the penmanship and articulation here resembled what it was in the first entry.)
Nichole groped for her knapsack beside her, where her notebook was kept. Wouldn't hurt to write that odd name down hoping to look it up later.
May 12th: The Dark Lady seems to have smiled upon me.
Several days ago, they came. A battalion of mountain dwarves. Not sure what local house they belong to, as my knowledge of the dwarven language is limited. I believe they came to negotiate with the High Priestess, though I am not certain the reason. All I heard was sounds of an angry argument and then a violent fight. From the sound of the screams, I believe my kin were firmly on the losing side.
I hid in my laboratory until these dwarves forced their way in. Even if I hadn't spent the last month praying for death, I was in no condition to oppose them and pleaded with them to make it quick.
They were about to do so when an important-looking dwarf entered, telling them something I assume was "stand down". He then had them search my tables and cabinets, eventually finding the lab safe containing my notes and this journal. In my weakened state, I told them the combination, not caring at the time how anyone used the information I had written down.
I must say, I was shocked to see a dwarf take such a keen interest in alchemy. I was even more surprised by what I assumed was an offer to help, although I did hear some of his subordinates grumble with disapproval. Whatever the case, after about five attempts to brew the Elixir, I had endured so much to produce, he successfully did so.
I must have been asleep for days afterwards. The fever and headache are still here, and I still feel traces in my system of the beastly drugs I used to stay awake this whole miserable time. Still, the exhaustion is gone, and my hands are steady once again.
The dwarven battalion has taken up residence in the keep and my laboratory and personal quarters are now my prison. No matter; I often regarded it as such before, and the Matroness was a much crueler jailer. I now believe my new captor gained some information from her about my experiments after some sort of interrogation, although I have no idea whether she lives or not. I barely care anymore; with my lucidity returning, my desire for revenge has ebbed. I now see, at least, the reason why the High Priestess acted the way she did, my obsessive research caused me to forgo bathing, possibly for weeks. I suppose I would have been offended too.
I am unsure what to do next, but at least I have access to most of my equipment. I should be able to slip by these dwarves as soon as they let their guard down; assuming I have a reason to do so.
May 18th: I've been able to grasp enough of the dwarven language to understand my captors at least. From what I garner, their leader's name is Zenith, and he belongs to a clan located several leagues to the north. His superior had sent him on a mission to take this enclave by force and occupy it; Zenith does not know the reason, he is simply following orders, and it seems he has been successful. Whether he intends to report back or wait for another squadron to come here, I have no idea.
I noticed that many of the supplies in my laboratory have gone missing, including many of the herbs needed to brew the Elixirs of Dark Sleep. I'm starting to wonder, does Zenith need it for a similar reason?
At least I have enough of it for myself for the immediate future. I must decide what my next step is soon.
(Red: I should mention, the writing wasn't consistent on the name of this dwarf leader. "Zenith" was only one of the ways it was spelled, it was also spelled "Zeth" and "Zenth". I figure he never saw the name written down, and I assume these dwarves only spoke Dwarvish. I have heard of a dwarf clan named "Zenith", which I believe is dwarven for "aluminum" or "made of aluminum". For simplicity, I'll assume it's one of them for now.)
"I've heard of the Zenith clan," said Malakar, "a rather well-to-do folk who did business in Cauldron years ago. Never heard of them involved with dark alchemy."
"Aluminum was discovered in the 19th Century," added Francis, "a clan with such a name would be very young by dwarf standards."
"Candi must have missed that," said Nichole. "This was likely written far later than she assumes."
May 27th: I've been talking to Zenith more and more. He seems rather cordial for a dwarf. As I surmised, he seems proficient in both alchemy and runic magic. He seems intent on finding something crafted by the gold dwarves. Unfortunately, such matters are beyond the scope of my knowledge.
He does seem to be on the verge of uncovering some of the much-coveted skills the gold dwarves are known for. He demonstrated a formula he had uncovered, some sort of solvent that, when poured on soft metal - the alloy he used here was copper - which made it as malleable as clay, but only for about a minute.
Maybe I can stay around a little longer… This has a great deal of potential…
(Red: I doubt I can explain the gold dwarves in much detail here. Suffice it to say, if they exist at all, YES, their work has a LOT of potential. I'd love to just write them off as a fairy tale, but hey, you never know.)
"Dwarven rune magic?" asked Francis. "Who does that remind me of?"
"You think this Zenith fellow was related to Suramar?" asked Red.
"Possibly," said Nichole. "Keep going, how many entries are left?"
"Two." She cleared her throat before going on.
June 3rd:Words cannot express the shock I felt this afternoon. I had been paying closer attention to Zenith's experiments, to the point where he was trusting me enough to read his notes on them. We were working with gray ooze extract and underestimated its potency. Using a larger than required dose caused the volatile solvent to boil over and splash on his shirt. As I doused the now-ruined compound, he tore the shirt off and discarded it.
That's when I noticed it on his bare flesh. A mark. An odd-shaped birthmark on his left shoulder blade. Just like my own.
I had always thought the mark was unique. I feel I have more of a connection to this dwarf than I previously assumed.
I still remember the terrifying dreams and the foolish experiment that nearly ended me, but I also remember the curiosity that led me to undertake it. I could renew my attempts… Is it truly worth the risk?
September 19th:Months of research and experimentation have led me to this point. I have not taken the Elixir for a full 30 hours. For the first time in months, there is no trace of it nor the Terran brandy in my system. I can now sleep and dream again, but this time… This time, I will be prepared.
I have used every protective magic I know of that might bolster mental fortitude and erected protective wards attuned to every variety of demonic predator I know of. A homunculus that was specifically crafted for such a purpose stands guard at the foot of my bed. Every precaution has been made, checked and double-checked several times. If this dream demon attacks again, I believe I can withstand it long enough to delve into whatever dark secret it hides.
From here on, I put my Fate in the Dark Lady's hands.
(Red: That was the last entry. Creepy, huh? Kinda wish I could find out what happened to the guy…)
"Yeah, creepy," said Francis. "Reminded me of… What was it called… Silent Hill kind of creepy."
"All that reminds me of something," said Sonya, "but… Well, it should, but it doesn't. Kind of like something you think you should remember."
"Great," said Maddie, "more deja vu."
"Nightmares…" said Nichole. "Kind of like what everyone in Cauldron has been having lately…"
"Attention, passengers," said a voice over the loudspeaker, "we will be arriving at Redgorge station in three minutes, please be prepared to disembark."
"I think that's our stop. Let's not get excited folks, I'll send a message to Jalal and see if he knows anything about this Kaurophon, and until then -"
"Hey, look!"
Maddie pointed out the window of the train. They were not traveling on a slight downward decline, into a canyon. It was quite a spectacular view, not as majestic as the Grand Canyon, but still a beautiful display of rock formations, the red and orange stone accented by sunlight and Shadows.
Malakar spoke up. "Welcome to Redgorge."
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"WHOA!"
That was Maddie's reaction when they stepped off the train and saw the front gates of Redgorge. It was a dwarven city to be sure, but they had never seen one this grandiose.
"Yes, Sister Maddie," said Malakar, "that is the general reaction to anyone who sees Redgorge for the first time."
It was a walled city that had been built to function as a fortress, the entrance in front of them an iron portcullis gate flanked by two enormous statues of dwarves in armor. The passengers disembarking the train were lining up behind it, waiting for it to open, as it would at the top of every hour and thirty minutes past. Naturally, the six mainlanders were quick to get in line lest they have to wait for the next.
They would later learn that the other gate was even more impressive, opening to a sea grotto that vessels could sail into, leading to the docks of Redgorge. The grotto was a harbor onto itself that could be sealed off with similar gates. Quite an impressive structure, seeing as dwarves usually weren't fond of sea travel.
"Malakar, this is a fort, who are they fighting against?"
"Initially, Redgorge was the only port for Cauldron. Suramar figured he had gained a prize, and that many would try to take it from him, so he spared no expense at making the most likely entrance - and exit - to the island an impenetrable fortification." The gate started to open. "Oh, and speaking of which, stay close to me, this city is easy to get lost in."
Once inside, they quickly figured out what he meant. The streets of this odd town were also walled and designed in a haphazard labyrinth. They also noticed several metal doors on the pavement that looked like service hatches, with arrows etched on them in a variety of colors.
When the crowd dispersed, Malakar led the way, following a red arrow, then turning at an orange one, then yellow.
"I get it, Roy G. Biv, right?"
"Exactly," said the acolyte, "the outer walls, while impressive, were the least of the city's defenses. The interior was built to be a literal maze, not difficult for residents to maneuver, nor difficult for a newcomer to learn. But should it be invaded by an enemy army, it was much different."
"They had some sort of mechanism that could conceal the arrows?"
"Far more than that. The city was constructed via a process using both dwarven runic magic and technology. Should it become likely that the outer perimeter be breached, the defenders could 'arm' theplace, turning it into an elaborate weapon.
"Given the stories I've heard, once the decision was made to 'arm' the city, an alarm would sound, warning every citizen off the streets. Minutes later, every door and window would be locked."
Francis looked around. It did indeed seem like every business and home had doors to break into should that occur.
"But that was just the start. There were also stories of walls moving that changed the layout of the streets, murder holes, and secret doors that the militia could use to ambush invaders. Eventually, a large force could be rerouted and surrounded with ease, disarmed, and depending on the orders from the city's leaders, killed or hauled to prison."
"Suramar seemed pretty paranoid."
"He was. Ah, here we are - the town square, and the Maw of the King."
Now that sounded familiar, but the sight in front of them was the least thing they had expected. The town square was pretty typical, being a large, circular pavilion, with four streets extending from it, quite a few pricey-looking shops and what looked like a church. The structure that dominated the whole place, however, was a shark.
Okay, not really a shark, but a building shaped like a huge sea monster that looked sort of like a shark with arms. It was about fifty or so feet long and thirty feet high, a huge mouth, a dorsal fin, and claws on the forelegs. Its skin was composed of overlapping scales that had the texture of stone.
"Is that the Maw of the King?" asked Nichole.
They had heard the story - in song - during the Flood Season festival, a tale of how a sea beast had menaced a coastal town, cutting off the sea routes and bringing them to the brink of starvation. When their greedy liege refused to help (one supply line cut off made the merchandise from the others more profitable) they did the unthinkable, confronting the beast on their own. The song ended with the beast swallowing one of them, only for the victim to "burn the King from the inside out".
It seemed a very popular song at the Coy Nixie, though Lord Coll seemed to hate it.
"So, they turned it into a… seafood restaurant?"
Malakar nodded. "Eventually. At first it was a guildhall, then a private home for some rich merchant, then a storehouse… I think someone even used it as a jail at one time. I'll tell you the how and why later, but for now -" His voice sank to a whisper "-the Maw of the King is indeed a seafood restaurant, and the sort of place Dorisan would find a safe haven right now. The crab cakes are pretty good too."
Nichole nodded to everyone. "Everyone try to keep a low profile," she said.
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The common dining room of the Maw of the King appeared to take up the entire front space of the structure, and the bustle within contrasted with the quiet outside. It seemed as though the people of Redgorge preferred to end their work days early. As the mainlanders entered, a veritable mountain of a man came out from a kitchen, his long reddish hair tied back into two ponytails, carrying trays of food (mostly appetizers and bread rolls), which he spread upon the buffet table
"Arr now, 'elp yerselves folks, nobody goes hungry while Maxie runs this place!"
A dozen or so customers gladly obliged, and gathered quickly about the bar, and the boisterous manager was soon put to work filling a number of drink orders. Hank had reflexively started in that direction, but Maddie stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Remember why we're here," she said.
"Oh, come on, can't we eat first?" he pleaded. "Been a long day."
"Maddie, he's right," said Nichole. "We're all tired and hungry, and we'll be better able to deal with the Chisel rested and fed."
Maddie let out a sigh, then turned and strode into a less-densely occupied part of the common area to their right, away from the centrally-located bar. How had everything gotten so out of control? Here they were on yet another mission with little in the way of direction or purpose, blundering from one danger into another, with still no idea why.
She opened the pouch on her hip, and took from it the Iron Blacksmith card Dorisan had given her. She had to give this to someone, but who?
She became aware of a woman sitting in the shadows on the far side of the fireplace, clad in a scarlet dress with opera gloves, and flowing black hair. Her profession became evident as she shifted to reveal a lute held against the side of her body, and she played a soft melody upon it that filled the space between them but did little to counter the bustle coming from the crowd at the busy bar on the far side of the room.
What set her apart though, was her mask. An ivory mask in the shape of a fox's head concealed her face.
The musician finished her piece, and then looked up at her, as if expecting a comment. "You're good," said Maddie.
"I am gratified, milady," she said with a nod. "When first you entered, before you smiled, I felt a chill descending upon me, and I thought perhaps I'd somehow unknowingly acquired another critic. I am pleased to see that I am mistaken."
That wasn't quite the reply Maddie had expected, and it didn't seem much like a thank you. "You're rather direct in speaking to strangers," she said, slightly annoyed.
"All are strangers to me at first, milady. It is the plight of a Wandering Minstrel."
Maddie started to turn, but there was something in the woman's look that held her there. Had they met? She shot a glance at the bar, where the others had joined the crowd in securing food and drink. Red Feather was occupied with the salad bar that had been set out, and Francis was loading up on the potato wedges that they all loved so much at the Coy Nixie. Maddie's stomach rumbled from the smell of the shrimp... Maybe they had the right idea.
The bard strummed an idle tune on his instrument as Maddie turned back to face her. "I have a riddle for you, milady."
"Wait, what do you -"
As she played, the Wandering Minstrel spoke a simple verse:
I have a hammer, with which I attack,
Facing weapons that never fight back.
What am I?
Maddie's ambivalence evaporated as she immediately made a connection. She took the card and showed it to the bard.
The Wandering Minstrel nodded, and said softly, "Seven o'clock. Be outside. Someone will come." She stood up and turned to leave.
"Wait, how -"
"You will know him when you see him. Our messenger is hard to miss."
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"It's sort of a long story," said Malakar, "one that had been told through word of mouth over the past four centuries."
The Shadowchasers had managed to score a large table in the comic room, and were passing several platters of shrimp, prawns, stuffed mushrooms, and cheese biscuits between them.
"We certainly have the time," said Nichole.
"Very well. Now, I told you about how this city was built specifically to foil the efforts of anyone who tried to breach its walls. But there is one weakness, one strategy that would - given enough time - defeat such."
"I'm guessing that would be a siege."
"Exactly, Brother Francis. A well-supplied army who knew of the city's nature could set post a sizable force outside the one entrance and with a naval blockade surrounding the ports, starve the place into submission. Given enough time. The problem is, of course, that could be just as detrimental to the opposing army.
"But about a hundred years or so after the city was officially founded, Redgorge was the victim of two crises at the same time. First, the chieftain of the gnoll tribe dwelling in the swamplands west of the city was assassinated and replaced by a powerful flind named Drurraarr Grapplehallow.
"Uh-oh," said Sonya.
Gnolls tended to be bad news, but flinds - tougher, stronger, and meaner than the typical gnoll – were often much worse. Given the canine appearance of gnolls, one could theoretically call a flind a pedigree of their kind, but it seemed too elaborate a term for such violent fighters who, unfortunately, tended to be born leaders among their kind. They hated humans – well, more than they hated everyone else, at least.
"Drurraarr was able to unite the gnoll, lizard folk, troglodyte, and bullywug tribes under his rule, and decided to lay siege to Redgorge, claiming he was 'destined' to conquer and rule all of Cauldron. Of course, this was a fever dream of a madman, but fate seemed to have it in for everyone at Redgorge, because the King - as it was called - suddenly appeared and started attacking incoming mercantile vessels.
"The King was obviously a Shadowkind, but I do not believe its species was ever specified. You could say it was a 'sea monster' of course, but it seemed eerily malignant even when compared to other such beasts. I sincerely doubt Drurraarr was in any sort of alliance with it, and even less sure he had the magic needed to summon or control it.
"Regardless, the people of Redgorge attempted to contact Cauldron itself, but their attempts seemed ignored. Later, the ruling council of the city would claim they had a crisis of their own to manage, supposedly a plague."
"Quite a coincidence," said Maddie.
"Indeed. At the time, the guilds had not been on good terms with the current Lord Governor of Cauldron, after they had raised tariffs on some imported goods."
"Oh yes," said Francis, "we all know how the bigwigs in Cauldron feel about taxes."
"Rumors would run rampant that they - or maybe one or a small group of them - were manipulating Drurraarr and the monster in some way, feeling that Redgorge had to be taught a lesson and reminded who was in charge.
"But the guilds were far more resourceful than they thought. Supposedly, the incident in the song was the unofficial start of the Chisel, where all the guilds cooperated towards a common goal. I suppose the battle may have been… embellished, as such things often are. Mere hours after the King's carcass was dragged onto land, the militia of Cauldon finally showed up to deal with Drurraarr. Mostly to save face, many assumed. Drurraarr was, of course, executed."
"The more I hear about those folks the angrier I get," mumbled Francis. He took a large bite before continuing. "Trust me, we know the type. Dugan told me once that rich folks like that can be even worse than the Doomdreamers, at least they have madness as an excuse."
"I had the 'privilege' of working with someone like that once." Sonya seemed just as upset, starting to more vigorously cut her food as she talked. "Edmund and I had to work as bodyguards to this rich bitch in Phoenix once, and she treated everyone like dogs. The outfit and jewelry she wore for a casual luncheon cost more than what everyone else there was wearing, and she never let any of them forget it. Never did an honest day's work in her life. Heh, she actually had this whole group of groomers whose job was to follow her around in order to 'fix' her clothing, makeup, or hair if it was even slightly unkempt or smudged. She even had someone whose job was to around a full-length mirror so she could admire herself in it, can you believe that?"
"Uhm…" started Nichole. "This… woman, would we know her?"
"Maybe. What was her name... Sheila… Shemmy…"
"Shemeska?"
"Yeah, that's her. Guess it does make sense in hindsight."
"So, uhm," said Nichole, "who did she need to be protected from?"
"Eh, hard to say," muttered Sonya, "Pretty sure a lot of folks wanted her head. Grand Karcist Ion maybe, he told me that if I wanted it, I'd have to get in line behind him."
"You know Grand Karcist Ion?"
"Went to a charity pancake breakfast at his cathedral while I was there. What? The sign on the front said, 'Open to all'."
Before anyone could question that one further, she said, "Hey, where did Maddie go?"
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Maddie leaned against the outside wall of the restaurant, watching everyone pass by in the town square, looking at her watch every few minutes. It was only 6:20, but she wasn't taking any chances.
She couldn't help but think she just wanted to get this whole deal over with. Cauldron was getting to her, like she had jet lag that she just couldn't get over.
She was homesick. That was the problem.
I miss the States, she thought, I miss Edgar. I miss McEDs, Pizza Hut, Jack in the Box… I miss…
"I sacrifice Opticlops for Summoned Skull!"
Her eyes snapped open. There was a duel in progress!
A young girl about 14 years old or so with short, brown hair tied in odango buns, a yellow jacket, black shorts, and sneakers was the one who had made the command, facing off against an older boy controlling a Marauding Captain and Warrior Dai Grepher. The Duel Disks were old models, but it was indeed a duel.
Everyone cheered as Summoned Skull's brutal lightning bolt struck the Captain, blowing him to pieces and knocking her opponent down.
"All right!" she cheered. She held up two fingers and exclaimed. "Victory!" She looked around at everyone who was watching, and shouted, "Who's next? What about you, lady?"
The Shadowchaser was surprised, she had carried this Duel Disk on her arm so long she had forgotten it was there.
But she was glad it was. The answer had come to Maddie - this is what she missed.
She smirked, lifting her arm, and causing the blade to extend into place. "You're on…"
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"Maybe she went for a smoke break," said Sonya.
"Pretty sure she doesn't -" started Francis. "Whoa."
It was eight minutes after Maddie had started the Duel, her allies were exiting the restaurant, and the overconfident tween wasn't doing as well now. She had Gil Garth and Archfiend Soldier on her side of the field, with Maddie having three set cards with Panther Warrior.
"Uh, uhm, it's your move Maddie…"
"Not yet, Melody!" exclaimed Maddie, "first I'll use my Scapegoat Spell Card to summon four Sheep Tokens!"
Once the tokens sprung into existence, Maddie made a draw, and moved onto her turn, with another of her set cards opening.
"I activate Enemy Controller!" The odd video game control-pad appeared in mid-air, and one of her Scapegoats disappeared. "Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, and… Start!"
A long cord of energy shot from the controller, snagging Archfiend Soldier and dragging it over to Maddie's side. "Now I can use this to attack your Gil Garth! GO!"
The Fiend bore down on Gil Garth and sliced it in two. The girl flinched a little, but Maddie wasn't done. "Now I can sacrifice Gil Garth so Panther Warrior can attack you!"
The Archfiend vanished, and Melody shrieked, trying to shield herself from Panther Warrior's scimitar.
"Didn't I say we should keep a low profile?" said Nichole.
"Seems like this is working better!" said Hank.
Finally, Maddie's last card flipped up, the Trap Card, Token Stampede. The three Scapegoats' eyes opened, and their Attack Points (which were at zero) shot up to 1,000. All three darted forward, ramming into Melody and reducing her Life Points to nothing.
Melody was about to fall over, but as the holograms disappeared, Maddie rushed over and caught her before she collapsed.
"Hey, hey, you okay?"
Melody nodded slowly. "That was… that was kind of brutal there…"
"Heh, this is an intense game, but you're pretty tough. You just have to pace yourself." She looked up at everyone who had assembled in the square and said, "So, anyone else want to give it a try?"
"I believe that honor belongs to me."
There was dead silence for a minute. Several of the onlookers moved aside to let the speaker by.
He was a tall, lanky man, wearing an old-fashioned leather jerkin, britches, gloves, and a cloak with a hood. On that alone, Maddie saw a resemblance to the Traveling Minstrel, but this stranger also had a mask, this one resembling a cat's. He also had a Duel Disk, his intent now being clear.
"Who… Who's this guy?" asked Sonya.
"He's the Town Crier," said a man next to them.
"Uh, why would the town crier dress like that?"
"No, no, it's what he calls himself, the Town Crier. He doesn't give information, he collects it. Seems your friend here has caught someone's interest."
Looks like we've found our messenger, thought Maddie. "Who are you?"
"Like the man over there said," said the Town Crier, "I'm the type to gather information, but I'm not as keen on sharing it." His Duel Disk snapped into position and flashed on. "You mainlanders are a smug bunch. Maybe you'd like to show me you're more than just talk?"
Maddie looked briefly at Melody. Maybe she was just paranoid, but she wondered if this might have been some sort of set up.
Still, she wanted this. Her heart was pumping, and she felt more energetic than she had in weeks. If this fellow wanted a fight, he would certainly get one.
"You're on!" she shouted.
(Maddie: 8,000) - - - - - (Town Crier: 8,000)
"I'll start by using my Pot of Prosperity." The Town Crier used a Spell Card, and a strange device emerged from the card, a large jar the size of a barrel with one half shaped the Pot of Generosity (a calm, serene face made of blue ceramic) and the other the Pot of Riches (a happier, sillier-looking face made of gold), the former face turning towards him. "By using this card, damage done to you is halved this turn, but because this is my first turn, that point is moot. "He opened the Extra Deck chamber on his Disk, withdrawing six cards. "First I'll banish these cards." He fit them in the blue face's mouth - its eyes opened, and the Pot of Prosperity spun three times, coming to a stop with the Riches side towards him. It let out a throaty laugh, and six other cards were fed out of its mouth.
"Now I get to take one of these," he continued, "and return the others". He chose one, then took the other five, placing them at the bottom of his deck. "I'll set these cards," he placed a reversed monster and a card in his Spell Zone, "and then I'll end."
"Well then," said Maddie. She made a draw, then used a card, causing Panther Warrior to appear. (2,000 ATK) "This one's feeling frisky since the last duel, so I'll bring him out for an encore. He can't attack unless I sacrifice a monster first, so I'll set one card and then play the Continuous Spell Card, Backup Squad." She placed the cards, nodded, and said, "It's your move."
"Then I will draw," said the Town Crier, and dramatically whipped a new card from his deck. "...and summon… this!"
As Maddie stepped back in shock, the sky darkened, and a huge creature loomed over her. It was a Machine, like a robotic wolf, almost twelve feet high at the shoulder, covered with sharp, armored plates, and made of gold and silver. It seemed to glow and shimmer in its own light.
It looked down on Maddie and Panther Warrior with fiery red eyes, making a low growl… (2,150 ATK)
Think I'm in trouble, she thought.
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And… That's a wrap.
A new chapter of BLOCKBUSTER Yu-Gi-Oh! will be posted soon. For now, I'm going out to see the Beetlejuice sequel. As always, stay safe.