11: Shamira

It had come as no surprise to Calleslyn when Almandar had returned to the villa in the morning, and looking as if he had not had much sleep the night before. She had not met Raylana, but the inference about what had happened was a fairly easy one to make. It had been rather more surprising, however, to realise that Dolrim had also returned home at around the same time. It seemed unlikely, from what she knew of dwarves, that anything of a similar nature had happened to him - and, indeed, if it had, she would have expected him to appear rather more cheerful than he actually did.

But, instead, he had shut himself away in his room at the villa, brooding on his own. Presumably he was looking over the secret dwarven documents that he had acquired, wanting to look over them before he shared them with the rest of the party. When Almandar had returned, a couple of hours later, he had briefly tried to talk to the dwarf, even going into his room, but he had obviously been sent out again almost immediately, apparently without much of a word of explanation.

Still, it was not long after that that Dolrim had finally emerged, looking somewhat sheepish, and bringing the documents with him. Much of the writing was in dwarvish, so although the maps were reasonably clear, actually fitting them to the above ground street plan was probably going to take a while. So they left him to examine the maps further with Vardala, and Calleslyn had suggested that, in the meantime, she and Almandar try to find out what they could at the Wizards’ College

Almandar had, in fact, slept much of the morning, which suggested a certain degree of vigour on Raylana’s part, but now they were both here heading across the lobby towards the College library. The Wizards’ College was, in effect, a guild, although, unlike most others in the city, apprentices were often taught on the premises, rather than in private businesses elsewhere. Almandar himself had learned magic here, many years ago, although Calleslyn had only joined after her own education was complete.

10: Ostrid

[Start from the beginning]

“I am sorry,” said Ostrid, “but the only thing here for you are the plans your party requested. Raylana is not here; I am afraid that she has misled you into believing that you were…” she blushed slightly, looking down at the ground, “…here for some other purpose. That is not the case.”

Almandar had, of course, been surprised, on opening the door to Raylana’s home to discover the dwarven woman there, rather than the merchant. Her presence alone made it unlikely that anything interesting would occur, and now she had confirmed that Raylana was not here at all, and was not going to be.

“So what has happened?” he asked, still unsure of how events were unfolding.

“You should come in,” she said, instead of replying, and still having some difficulty looking him in the face. This was clearly something she felt uncomfortable discussing, but at least she looked embarrassed, rather than deceitful. “The plans you requested are in here,” she added.

“I thought you were giving them to Dolrim. Didn’t your family insist on it?”

She nodded, her shoulders slumped, but said nothing further until they had reached the main room of the house. It was a wide open space, with a balcony above, with a divan, and numerous cushions and tables. Ostrid headed for a dresser on one side, where a carved wooden box was sitting. She picked it up gingerly, holding it close to her chest.

9: Reylana

[Start from the beginning]

The dwarves had been in Haredil long enough to have carved out their own quarter of the city. Despite having lived in the city all his life, it was an area that Almandar had rarely been to; unlike the elves, dwarves only rarely performed magic, and the close-knit and prudish nature of their culture gave him little other reason to visit. In fact, Lady Tarissa was probably more familiar with the district than he was, because of their quality armourers. And there was Dolrim, of course.

Looking around him at the blocky buildings with their small windows, he almost wondered why he had volunteered to come. But, if they were to obtain plans of the ruins beneath the city, his knowledge of Haredil’s ancient history might help, along with Dolrim’s natural feel for architecture and stonework. Nonetheless, he could not help but feel that the dwarves were a dour people, far from the fun-loving and carefree nature of the elves, or even, to an extent, the gnomes. It was the nature of their culture; they were master-craftsmen, spending all their time in dedicated work to improve their art, leaving no time for gaiety.

Lady Tarissa was leading the way as they walked through the dwarven streets, laid out in a square grid, as regular and monotonous as the buildings around them. As a paladin, she probably approved of the dwarves’ dedication, and even Almandar had to admit that they were an honourable and courageous people – Dolrim had saved his own life more than once. The previous night, Tarissa had invited round some friends of hers from the Temple of Pardror for a pleasant evening of food and conversation out in the courtyard. They had not discussed the apparent threat to the city, but the Temple were potential allies if ever they needed them. Calleslyn had brought a friend too, by the name of Messandra, but he knew enough about women to tell that she was not attracted to him.

8: Spying

[Start from the beginning]

Zarenis woke up as the sun began to dip in the sky, casting its orange light through the narrow window in her garret apartment. She had slept through much of the day, which was not unusual. She preferred the night over the day, when harsh sunlight could make things all too visible. At night, she could see better than humans, or even elves, could, allowing her to see without being seen.

That much was practical, especially given her chosen stock in trade, but there was also, she thought, beauty in the night. Haredil’s skies were often clear, an advantage of its arid environment, allowing the stars and moons to shine brightly amidst the velvet blackness. And darkness was so much more beautiful than harsh light. The way things shrunk into the shadows made them somehow cleaner, purer, than they were when their reality was exposed by sunlight.

Her diabolic heritage might also have been relevant, of course.

She slipped out of the bed, pushing the thin sheets back into place, and quickly dressed. She did not have a wide range of clothes, just enough spares to ensure that some would always be clean, and her tastes were simple – and practical – enough. Perhaps if, one day, her job should take her to some high class party in disguise, she might have to buy an expensive dress, but the thought held no attraction for her.

7: Vardala (2)

[Start from the beginning]

“These refer to a great threat to the city,” said Calleslyn, placing the old parchments on the table.

They had met together in the dining hall of the villa, at the elf’s urging. Almandar gathered that she had something important to tell them, something she had found recently in some old documents. But to him, it seemed too soon to head out on another expedition; they had barely returned from the last one. Some adventurers spent their whole lives exploring old ruins, but that was no way to live a life. What was the point in gaining so much treasure if you never had the time to spend and enjoy it? Of course, there were some people who were wholly dedicated to fighting evil, never resting from the battle, and that was admirable, but he was no holy warriors.

Nonetheless, he was sure that Calleslyn would not call them together without good reason, and he was willing to listen to what she had to say. The elf was intelligent, a loyal friend, and not someone who leapt into reckless action. If she thought something was important, it probably was. And a threat to the city, he had to concede, would certainly be something important.

6: Lyrette

[Start from the beginning] The shop was a moderately large one, yet still dominated by many of the other buildings in the neighbourhood. The spires and domes of the nearby temples reared over the nearby roofs, giving this quarter its distinctive character. Even the streets were relatively quiet, at least when worship services were not beginning or ending. This building, then, while better than many others in the city, looked almost nondescript here, its smooth stone walls and decorative sign no more impressive than many others on the street.

Almandar and Tarissa were here to stock up on supplies in anticipation of their next foray into the wilderness. There was no great urgency, for they had no plans to head out again for a couple of months at least, but one never knew when supplies would come in handy, even here in the city. The shop, of course, given the neighbourhood, specialised in religious goods. That was, primarily, Lady Tarissa’s field of expertise, but it was still useful for another party member to be present.

In fact, while he had passed the shop before, on previous visits to this quarter, he had not been inside. Tarissa, apparently, was a regular, so it clearly made sense for him to let the paladin do the talking.

5: Messandra

[Start from the beginning]

Calleslyn climbed the stairs at the back of the map shop. Messandra, who owned the shop, was someone she had known for a long time. She had often provided the party with interesting documents or maps, which had led them on dramatic adventures across the northern lands. The latest such map had proven particularly useful, and she deserved to know the outcome of that escapade, which was why Calleslyn was here after hours.

She knocked on the door to Messandra’s living quarters above the shop, and was rewarded a brief time later when the owner opened the door. The human woman was dressed well, Calleslyn saw, wearing a rich blue sleeveless dress with a long skirt slit down the side to show off one slender leg, and ankle-length boots. A wide belt girdled her waist, accentuating her figure, and the dress itself had an open diamond between her breasts, and straps over her bare shoulders, where a necklace of amber stones hung down to her collar bone.

Calleslyn took all this in, realising at once that this was probably not her friend’s casual wear. “Have I interrupted you?” she asked, “I can always come back tomorrow.”

Messandra looked puzzled for a moment, and then glanced down at herself, following the elf’s eyes. “Oh, nothing that can’t be postponed,” she said, flushing slightly, “I was just… no, it’s nothing. Come in.”

4: Hiring

[Start from the beginning]
Soft soled leather boots made little sound as the dark cloaked figure strode along the back street. The houses nearby were large, some of the more opulent ones in Haredil, many of them lit by lantern light from within at this time of night. Even were it not for the darkness outside, little would have been visible of the figure’s features, shrouded beneath the long, hooded cloak. The figure glanced about, to make sure that no one was watching, but the street was otherwise deserted. It stepped up to the back door of one of the homes, and knocked softly.

After a long pause, the door opened slightly, and a human face peered out. Apparently satisfying himself as to the identity of the visitor, the man opened the door further, and the figure disappeared within.

The room within was gloomy, lit only by the candelabrum that the manservant held. Zarenis pulled back the hood on her cloak, revealing a pretty, yet serious face with pale skin and shoulder-length brown hair. However, her heritage was immediately apparent, as was, perhaps, her reason for concealment. Just peeking up from beneath her hair were the tips of two tiny, black horns, and her eyes glittered in the candlelight like two dark garnets, the reddish tinge decidedly unnatural.

“I will inform her ladyship of your presence,” said the man, not reacting at all to her appearance, “please wait here.” With that, he was gone, taking the candle with him, and plunging the room into near-total darkness.

3: Vardala

Vardala closed the door to her room behind her, and leaned against it for a while, suddenly nervous. She had excused herself from the late night conversation once Horvan had left to complete his own work for the night. She had claimed tiredness, but the truth was rather different. She pulled the magical glass marble from her purse, and held it in her hand, looking at it, her heart beating.

When she had found it, buried among some of the rubbish near the back of an underground chamber, she had initially planned to hand it over to the others, as part of the group’s treasure haul. But that was before she had realised just how useful it would be, and exactly what she would be able to do with it… if only the others did not know. She felt guilty for doing so, especially when she considered what her true motive had been. Perhaps she should just have told them, and then claimed it as her share of the loot. It was so much easier if they did not know… but, equally, it would now be embarrassing in the extreme if they ever found out.

But it was too late for that now. She had the glass ball in her hand, and there was no point having taken it if she did not intend to use it; that would be the worst of both worlds. Taking a breath to calm herself, she slid the latch shut on the inside of the door, and walked over to her bed. She put her jacket to one side, sat on the bed, and pulled off her boots. As a gnome, she loved creature comforts, and the bed already felt inviting. She lay down, above the blankets, feeling their soft material with her bare toes, and resting her head on the deep pillow. Then, already feeling a little more relaxed, she held out the tiny magical orb in front of her.

2: Helsa

The Brass Goblet Inn was busy, as was usual at this time of the evening. Although the place rented rooms, it was as much a tavern as an inn, so with the shadows starting to lengthen outside, many of the good folk of Haredil were arriving for a drink before they headed off to their homes. The clientele was generally respectable, though, so there was little chance of a fight, or, for that matter, of catching something unpleasant, as was often the case at the dockside taverns. This was the reason that Almandar liked it, and, with moderately wealthy visitors from outside the city often staying here, it also tended to be a good place to find work.

But that was not why Dolrim and he had come here tonight; they had had enough of work for the moment. He wanted to relax and enjoy himself, at least for one night. He found a free table, and they both sat down, and ordered a drink. The barmaid, he could not help but notice, was pretty. She looked in her mid twenties, with shoulder-length curly hair the colour of golden sand, brown eyes and a welcoming smile. Her short-sleeved white shirt was low cut to reveal an ample cleavage, her skin, so far as he could see, flawless and lightly tanned.

“You’re new,” he said, smiling as she approached with a platter of drinks, “what’s your name?”

1: Arrival

The sun shone down on the city of Haredil as the small group rounded the crest of the hill. The white towers and copper domes and minarets glittered in the light, welcoming them back after their long journey. The last few weeks had been exhilarating, dangerous, as they had probed lost catacombs in search of treasure, fending off monsters and evil spirits to gain their prize. And a good haul it had been, too, the coins now loading down their saddle bags.

Almandar looked around at his companions, staunch comrades in the battles they had faced, and many more beforehand. Lady Tarissa was the leader of the group, despite her foreign origins. Born to aristocracy somewhere to the south, she looked nothing like the nobles of Haredil or its neighbouring cities. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was now free of her helmet, and her pale lips formed a smile as she saw the city ahead. The paladin might be an exile, but Haredil had become a home for her, too over the past few years. With the dust of the journey, and the heat of past battles, only her regal bearing now marked out her high born ancestry, but once they returned, there was no doubt that she would be able to move amongst the nobility once again, her knowledge of etiquette making her ideal as spokeswomen for the group.

Where Lady Tarissa was muscular and heavily armoured, Almandar’s fellow magician, Calleslyn, was willowy, armed only with a dagger tucked into her belt. She was wearing travelling clothes now, of course, but by tomorrow, she would, he knew, be dressed in rich robes that only complemented her beauty more. As pale and blonde as Tarissa, her hair was long, currently tied back into a long pony tail to reveal the high points of her ears. She had lived among the forests of the southern island for much of her life, which perhaps explained her mixed expression as the city approached. She looked, Almandar thought, calm and relaxed. Perhaps for her, as an elf, this was just the end of another journey, a pause between travels, rather than a true homecoming.