50: Endings

[Start from the beginning]

The city was beginning to return to normal after the horrific recent events. Little, it seemed, could subdue the people of Haredil for long. Commerce was essential, and the city's inhabitants had lives to lead, even after the temporary inconvenience of a plague of zombies. The market was open again, sellers hawking their wares, and, for the most part, there had been very little structural damage.

And yet, if you knew the city as well as Almandar did, you could tell that it had not yet quite got over the shock. It had been only two days after all, and, if you looked carefully, you could see the haunted expressions on some of the faces, the nervous glances that tried to remain well-hidden. Trade might be going on, but it was a little less raucous than usual. Many had lost loved ones or friends, and much of the previous day had been spent cleaning bodies from the streets. That was something that nobody could forget in a hurry.

Of course, he was one of the few who had any idea what had really happened. For the rest, there was no clear indication that the undead would not return. Last night had been quiet indeed, everyone barricaded inside, lest it should all happen again. A few pointed to the double Lunar eclipse, saying that that had somehow magically caused the dead to rise, but others pointed out – quite rightly – that they didn't really know that. Nobody was even sure quite where the dead had risen from, and there was no good explanation as to why they had vanished so suddenly.

45: Portal

[Start from the beginning]

The fireball had had the desired effect, sowing confusion among the cloaked figures conducting the ceremony. Calleslyn had, at least for the moment, saved the intended victim from her fate, but that hardly meant that the danger was over. As she had said to Dolrim just moments before, there were too many of them, and it was likely that at least some were capable of fighting back. Valmor certainly would be, and it was unlikely he was alone.

She had had no choice but to attack when she did, but she and Dolrim were heavily outnumbered. She just had to hope that the sudden explosion and magical assault had evened up the odds a little.

"I'm going to try and protect her," she told the dwarf. After all, the conspirators were surely still desperate to complete their ritual, and that would mean taking their sacrifice back. The woman was a nun, helpless against them at the best of times. Even if she tried running, the building was surrounded by a ring of undead, and that wouldn't end well. So Calleslyn had to do something.

44: Ceremony

[Start from the beginning]
Lady Tarissa bit back the angry words she had been planning when she saw the desperate look on Almandar's face. She had specifically told him to be quick when he went to talk to the bard, Yarai, and yet he had, in fact, been some hours, leaving her on her own back at the villa waiting for him. She could guess what he had been doing; she wasn't that naïve. Yet it looked as if something really had him worried, and her recriminations could wait. No matter his peccadilloes, he was an experienced adventurer, and he wouldn't look quite so rushed without good reason.

"What is it?" she asked curtly, instead of delivering her rebuke.

"It's tonight!" said the magician, somewhat breathlessly, "and the sun is almost set now! That's when they're starting it!"

"Explain," she snapped, "what have you learned?"

He visibly steadied himself, clearly flushed from having run most of the way here from… well half-way across town, presumably. "There's a ceremony that somebody has to conduct to summon this thing called 'the Presence'… I'm still not clear what it is, but it's something very powerful and demonic. It's been here since before the city even existed, and tonight, somebody is planning to summon it. It will give them power over demons, or something… Hell on Earth quite literally, or something much like it."

"Where is this ceremony? Who's behind it?"

42: Yarai

[Start from the beginning]

It hadn't taken Almandar long to find her. If you asked those who liked their music, and knew the local entertainers, she was distinctive enough that it really took very little effort indeed to learn where she was performing tonight. He was lucky that she had been in the city at all, of course, because she often travelled elsewhere, as bards were wont to, but once he knew that she was, it had been easy enough to find the right tavern.

He heard her even before he entered the room, her clear voice floating out onto the street. The patrons were quiet, enraptured; there was no hubbub of conversation while she performed. And there she was, as he walked in to stand at the back, near the bar. A flicker of recognition, of surprise, crossed her face, but it was momentary, and her performance did not halter for a second. It was unlikely anyone else would even have noticed, such was her professionalism.

He hadn't seen her for years, for all that they had so much in common. In a way, perhaps, he had more in common with Yarai than anyone else in the city, yet he had been avoiding her. He wasn't sure how she would react to seeing him now, after all this time, and the brief flicker across her face as he had walked in was not enough to give him a clue. Perhaps she would be the one who would avoid him. He hoped not, because that would make things awkward… well, more awkward than they were going to be anyway.

He should have sought her out before, really. But instead, he had taken the obvious course, looking for records in the College library, trying to find some explanation for what had happened in the distant past, and for why it might be happening again now. Yarai knew all the old legends; she would have made an excellent source. But he had pushed the possibility to the back of his mind, putting off the inevitable encounter.

40: Kara

[Start from the beginning]

The raid on Sashjant's lair had been a far shorter venture than any of their great expeditions into the wilderness, plundering ancient tombs or forgotten labyrinths. Yet it felt just as satisfying, producing the same thrill that escaping from near-death in an underground catacomb did. Or so Almandar felt, and he got the impression that the others did, too. Admittedly, in his case, the manner of his escape had been somewhat unorthodox, if far from unpleasant.

Presumably, for the others, the experience had been rather more conventional, but what really mattered was that they had saved five women from a terrible fate at the hands of a wicked demon. It was clear, now that they were free of his mental influence, how they regretted what they had done in his name, and, for some, at least, he suspected it would take a long time for their emotional scars to heal. Which meant that he currently felt as if he was walking on egg-shells when he was around them.

The former members of the harem were currently gathered in the main room of the adventurers' villa. Calleslyn had left to give Ornejirhs the good news, and Dolrim had left them alone, unaccountably bashful – perhaps he was overwhelmed by the emotion of the event, since dwarves were known for their taciturnity. That left Almandar with Tarissa and Vardala, talking to the rescued women.

35: Gut'rul

[Start from the beginning]

The place was evidently extra-dimensional in some way, a pocket of reality that did not fit within the regular dimensions of the physical world. Almandar had heard of such things before, had even seen them on a smaller scale, but he had never experienced one large enough to actually walk into. Judging from the doors that led off from the stone flagged corridor, it was even larger than they could see from here, an entire home hidden by what was presumably an easily portable door.

They stepped carefully and quietly down the corridor, not wanting to alert anyone inside. Luck, however, was not with them. Before they had moved even half way along, one of the occupants turned the corner at the far end and saw them, and let out a sudden yell. He recognised the red-headed slave he had met at the market – he seemed to recall her name was Kara – and immediately cast a sleep spell in her direction.

The woman collapsed, her legs falling from under her, and hit the floor heavily. Almandar darted forward, for a moment moving away from the others as the woman’s shout continued to echo through the magical space, evidently enhanced somehow. He did not want to hurt her, for she was an innocent victim, just as Mei-Xing was, just as all the harem were, but it was imperative that Sashjant and his slaves not have the chance to arm themselves.

“Let’s…” said Tarissa, but at that moment everything went dark.

32: Mei-Xing

[Start from the beginning]

The woman was most immediately notable for her flaming red hair; a rarity in Haredil. Her long skirts and the high collar on her dress marked her out as a native of the southern lands, far from her homeland. But that was no surprise to Almandar, for that was where Ornejirhs had followed her from.

Or, more accurately, that was where he had followed Sashjant from. As the dragon had indicated, the shape-changing demon travelled with a personal harem, and the redhead was one of that number. Almandar and the others had observed the group, confirming Ornejirhs’ story, at least as far as it could be. According to Lady Tarissa, Sashjant was an unusual type of demon called a rakshasa, and highly skilled in the ways of magic. Mind-affecting enchantments were clearly among his powers, and he had used them to gather the women, and to hold them in thrall.

It had soon become apparent that the women were the route through which they could tackle the demon. Each carried some kind of magical key that they used to enter Sashjant’s home; there was no other way in, which perhaps explained Ornejirhs’ failure to get close, especially since the demon could obviously sense his approach, and knew Imrilda’s identity.

It did not, however, know the adventurers, and that was the basis of their plan. Almandar would get one of the women on her own, allowing the others to capture her without the demon realising. Between himself, Calleslyn, and Lady Tarissa, they were confident of being able to end the enchantment, freeing the woman from her slavery. Once they had the key, they had a way to approach the demon, and deal with it permanently.

29: Nariti

[Start from the beginning]

“She went to see a magician named Ornejirhs,” explained Almandar, as they stood outside the Wizards’ College, “he’s a visitor to the city, not somebody I’ve heard of before.”

“I have,” said Tarissa, unexpectedly, “he’s a demon hunter. They mentioned him at the Pardror temple. I was going to suggest we pay him a visit anyway.”

“And after seeing him, Calleslyn disappears? I’m not sure I like this, especially since we don’t know anything about him. We don’t even know where he’s from.”

“I was told that he was from the south,” replied the paladin, “although I suspect they may have got confused on that point – it’s not a name from any southern culture I’m familiar with.” Tarissa, of course, was from the southern lands, herself, as her blonde hair and blue eyes made apparent. “Although I was told that he does have a companion called Imrilda, who certainly is southern, from the description. She belongs to an order called the Shield Daughters, who have some rather strange ideas about dress, but are essentially honourable. From everything I was told, this Ornejirhs sounds a trustable person.”

“Then why hasn’t Calleslyn returned?” Almandar reminded her, “she went to see him yesterday afternoon.”

24: Davnait

[Start from the beginning]

Almandar was surprised to find Dolrim apparently standing guard behind the doorway to the villa. The dwarf looked grim – even more so than usual – and was still dressed in full armour, his weapons at the ready.

“Where have you been?” his fellow adventurer asked gruffly, “we expected you some time ago.”

“Seeing to Skirina’s security,” he replied, conscious that he had been doing rather more with the young woman than that, “as we agreed. Has something happened?”

The dwarf simply nodded, “you had best see Tarissa. She is in the kitchen..”

The urgency in Dolrim’s voice convinced Almandar to head there straight away. It sounded as if something very serious had occurred, perhaps here at the villa, while he had been away enjoying himself. And for what? After they had had sex, Skirina had simply upped and disappeared. There had been, he now realised belatedly, something very strange about her, something that didn’t quite fit the image she had been trying to project.

When he had discovered the note that she must have left for him just before she left, it had only confirmed that she had been keeping secrets. But whatever the truth was, he doubted he would see her again.

22: Skirina

[Start from the beginning]

Skirina awoke slowly, her head feeling muggy. She was lying on a hard surface, not her usual pallet, and it took a few moments for her to gather her thoughts. The last thing she remembered was taking a drink from her canteen… she had felt woozy, stumbled a short distance, and then collapsed. Somebody had poisoned her canteen? Yes, that had to be it, and now she had woken up somewhere else.

The shocking realisation brought her fully awake, and she tried to struggle upright. No sooner did she do so than she realised that her hands were bound in front of her, tied together with some thick cord. She had been captured! But how, and by whom?

None of it made any sense. Why would anyone want to imprison her, and how could anyone have possibly drugged her water supply? Nobody else should have had access to it, except possibly the other members of her warren, and they were hardly likely to do such a thing.

20: Jiranda or Ravette?

[Start from the beginning]

The temple to Sarlene was by no means the largest in the district; the minarets of the temple of the Sun God cast their shadows over it during the morning. But it was one of the more beautiful, at least if you preferred graceful lines over austere majesty. Green vines ran across the outer walls, twining between the bas-relief carvings. The carvings were not, as in some other parts of the world, openly erotic; they showed scenes of marriage and demure affection, all of which were, of course, well within the goddess’s purview.

It was not the common reputation that the temple had, of course. Many assumed that it was a place of debauchery, at least when regular marriage services were not being conducted there. But that view was mistaken, for while Sarlene was, among other things, a goddess of passionate sexuality, such things were not a part of her regular worship services. Impromptu, private, worship services, though… well, that was a different matter.

It was the last free day before the exploratory mission into the subterranean caverns beneath the city. Tomorrow, the adventurers would make their final plans, have a good night’s rest, and then, perhaps, finally learn what was really going on under their feet. Dolrim and Vardala were staying at the villa, while Calleslyn paid a visit to her friend Messandra – Almandar wondered how many of the others had worked out the truth of their relationship, but had no intention of talking about it himself.

18: Ashabi

[Start from the beginning]

Almandar pushed open the door to the shop, taking a step down into the cool interior. The windows were small and high up, letting light into the room but not too much heat. It would not do for the stock to spoil, after all.

Remkar was an alchemist, a man who made his living selling magical potions to those who could afford them. Naturally enough, the adventurers had, over the years, been regular customers, although his clientele also included the local military and aristocracy. Tonight, they would be planning the full details of their intended explorations beneath the city, which made this one of the last opportunities to buy some healing potions, among other supplies.

The contents of the sales room looked impressive, although Almandar was aware that they were largely for show; most of the genuinely good material was kept somewhere out back, behind locked and magically protected doors. To anyone less aware of those realities, however, this room certainly looked the part. The shelves and cabinets were stacked with bottles of all shapes and sizes, some empty, but others full of brightly coloured liquids, some of which swirled or bubbled, seemingly of their own accord. Alchemical apparatus adorned the benches on either side, stills and retorts, crucibles and braziers, and strange items of glassware whose function Almandar could only begin to guess at.

15: Ansreal

Almandar had been surprised to receive the letter from Ansreal, the would-be paladin that Lady Tarissa had introduced him to a while ago. In it, she had asked him to meet her at the Silver Crown inn, but not to tell the others. It was a public place, and the woman was a devotee of Pardror, god of chivalry, so there seemed no reason to suspect an ulterior motive. But if so, why the need for secrecy? He had decided to go, of course, but he could not help but wonder what it was all about.

He did not know the Silver Crown very well, although he was aware of its location within the city. It was an expensive inn, catering to wealthy merchants and the like, which he supposed suggested that Ansreal herself might be well-connected. In front of the building was an open courtyard, dotted with tables and chairs around an ornate fountain, and it was there that he found her.

She raised her arm as she saw him arrive, and he waved in acknowledgement as he stepped over to the table, noting that she was alone. She wore the same plain white dress that she had when they previously met, the hemline reaching to her ankles, and the neck open only to her collarbone. It was, he gathered, some sort of uniform, a simple and unadorned costume symbolising the purity and dedication of aspirant paladins.

Unusually for a follower of Pardror, Ansreal was, of course, an elf. Her blonde hair was cut short in a bob, exposing her pointed ears and long neck but, he suspected, chosen more for practicality than looks. Glancing her over, with a slight touch of guilt, he could not help but think that some more colourful or revealing clothes might suit her better. For she was quite attractive, certainly compared with most humans. She was a little on the skinny side, perhaps, but her lips were full, her nose dainty, and her cheekbones high. He could not see her hips clearly from this angle, but the swell of her breasts beneath the white fabric was promising… or would be, were it not for her chosen calling.

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.

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.

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?”