_

The night passed without incident, Nima and Bruckner taking turns keeping watch. Little Tadalac slept like a stone, with only a small whirring snore to indicate his presence.

Tadalac awoke several hours before dawn, and, patting Bruckner sleepily on the head, said,

“Take a few more hours rest, Ox. I must do some reading—spellwork is a tricky business, after all. I’ll have breakfast for you and little sister just after sunup.” 

Nodding gratefully, Bruckner lay back down, setting his shield and sword near to hand.

As Bruckner slipped back into sleep, he watched as Tadalac walked a short distance away, lit a lantern, set it on his head, and pulled out a huge book that he began poring through.  

Bruckner awoke with the sun warm on his face. He rose, stretched, performed his necessaries, and strolled over to the fire. Nima was awake, sitting in silence by the fire, sharpening her dagger. She had already packed. Tadalac was tending to the fire.

"Fancy some coffee, Ox?" 

Tadalac asked, smiling widely as Bruckner approached. 

“Nima said she hasn’t had a decent cuppa for nearly a month!”

Without waiting for a response he reached a hand into the small pouch on his belt, and pulled out a fair-sized metal cauldron that quite obviously could not have fit into any mere material bag of that size.  He hefted the pot into the fire, then muttered a few words, reaching his hand over the pot.  

Clear water materialized beneath his hand, filling the cauldron with a splash, drops flying out and sizzling onto the hot coals.  He whistled as the water began to boil, and then pulled out a small burlap bag filled with rich black ground coffee. He poured a hearty amount into the boiling water, and begins to stir the mixture with a spoon.  He affixes a special top with a spout to the pot, then begins to pour it, thick and dark, into three small mugs he pulled from his satchel.  He held out cups to his new companions.

"You're more and more useful all the time," Bruckner said, taking the steaming cup. Nima accepted hers with a smile and a nod, savoring the drink in small, long sips.

As he drank his coffee, Bruckner polished his sword, and lightly kissed the edge with the rasp of his whetstone. Satisfied, Bruckner began donning his armor.

"When one is on the hoof all the time, one learns to bring along some of the comforts of home.  These three years of adventuring have given Tadalac time to acquire some useful toys."  

He pats his little satchel, and says, 

“You see this bag; it can hold anything!  And whatever I want just, pops! right to the top when I reach in! I won it in a card game in Barridia last year, from a mendicant preacher of Thuum named Curbeck Danderstein. Apparently, the bag was ensorcelled by no less a mage than Finlian the Padarite!” 

Tadalac’s face grew dour. 

“Curbeck got mad when I won it. Why, he accused me of cheating!”

“Did you?” Nima asked dryly.

“Hmphh!”

Tadalac said, then caught Nima’s wry smile. 

“No, but I was forced to hex his hands with a spell of betrayal once he got steamed. He’d been on the stump-hole liquor, so I had to do it.”

“What does that do?”

“Everytime he tried to hit me, his hands found him instead.” 

Tadalac began to giggle. Soon he was roaring with laughter. After his mirth died down, he surveyed the other two, asking casually:

"Where are you two going, by the way, and what are you looking for?  There has been so much excitement since we met that I don't really know anything about you!  Would you care to aid Tadalac in hunting devils?"

"We are, in fact, in the service of the Council of Lords of Sevahr, under Lord General Aleksander of Bastos, to investigate that very thing." 

While Nima savored her coffee, she searched about to find her spent crossbow bolts 

Tadalac looked surprised at Bruckner’s mention of General Aleksander. 

“I've met the General,” he said.  

“A year ago or so ago, Tadalac helped stop bandits who had stolen a shipment of medicine on its way from Bastos to Sievenar.  The General gave me a commendation!" 

he smiled proudly.  

"It's good news that he's leading the fight against these devils; now I'm even gladder we met!  I don't have much specific knowledge about these foes of ours, but I was on my way to a little settlement I know, just on the outskirts of the Skybreak Mountains.  There are some people there who normally know what's going on in these parts.  They're not all the most..." 

he paused a moment,

"savory sorts, so Ox had better keep his sword handy.  But some of them are half-decent, and they're sure to know more.  But, maybe you know more already?"  

Nima listened with one ear, focusing the rest of her senses on locating spiders for her new pet to eat. Bruckner and Tadalac cleaned camp while the elf-maid turned up a couple of small jumping spiders, and a nest of fat white grubs, which Canary ate with gusto.

Tadalac turned to Bruckner as he shouldered his pack. 

"It's north another fifteen miles or so, past Skybreak, beneath Mt. Elesborre.  We should be able to get there by early evening.”

“Let’s be off, then,” Nima said, 

The trio started out, again heading north. The day was cool and overcast. A bracing breeze was at their backs, bending the blades of grass and tugging at tree limbs. The thousand green fingers bent in the wind, beckoning the adventurers forward.  

Canary leapt from Nima's shoulder, and rode the gale forward, going so high that Nima could barely see her against the blue sea of sky. Tadalac kept pace fairly well with the others, though he often had to skip or jog in order to avoid falling too far behind.  

After four hours of brisk travel over hilly, and sometimes wooded terrain, Tadalac was breathing a bit heavily. 

"Tadalac is sorry; he is trying not to slow you down, but you two have such long legs!  I think when we reach the settlement--Thorn, they call it--I will buy a pony.  Whew!"  He plopped to the ground, and took a comically long drink from his water skin.

"Just 10 minutes?" 

he asked innocently.

Bruckner stopped, and nodded. He set his pack down and surveyed the area quickly, his right hand on the pommel of his sword. Nima pricked up her ears for any sounds of danger. 

Neither noted anything that struck them as out of the ordinary.  Bruckner notices a small herd of bazurka, elegant creatures with long, delicate legs, and velvet horns that sprouted into blooming buds of translucent white and yellow. The herd was grazing a quarter mile to the southeast of your position, but they seemed to note him as well, for the animals—famously skittish, and rarely seen in such large numbers in open daylight—began to move slowly, but perceptibly away.

“Teshibin! Or, Bazurka, as they’re called here!” Tadalac called joyously, pointing.

“Yes,” Bruckner nodded. “I’ve heard tell of them, but never seen one.”

“Strange to see them out during the day like this,” Tadalac mused.

“Something has been upset here,” 

Nima called out, rolling her prayer beads in her hand absently as she scanned the tree line. 

“Things are off-kilter.”  

Aside from the herd of bazurka, which soon disappeared over a fold in the land, and plenty of insects, birds, and small creeping things, the travelers saw nothing and no one. Possibly the scarcity of travelers was connected to the recent disturbances, though perhaps this barren stretch between Emennia and a group of largely uninhabited mountain ranges simply saw little foot and cart traffic. Whatever the case, the three companions found themselves alone on the sloping plains below the Skymount peaks. The gray stone mountains loomed large across the Northern horizon, and beyond them, its peak still white with snow, they spied Mount Elesborre.

As the three travelers took some rest, and ate a brief repast, the sun emerged from behind its veil of cloud, and the wind slowed to a shallow stream.  After a time, Tadalac jumped up off of the thick clump of wild yellow grass that he had been lying on.  

"Shall we be off?"

They continued Northward, coming upon more difficult paths. The undergrowth was tangled and profuse, and the group’s pace slowed considerably. Soon, giant oaks 1were casting long shadows over the matted vegetation and thorny brambles. 

For a mile or so, they struggle along in this fashion, but the path grew yet more dense,  and the going more difficult. Tadalac threw up his hands after fighting his way through a thick briar patch, scrapes and scratches covering his hands and arms.  

“This is not a good path for gnomes and humans.” He complained. 

He quickly looked at Nima, 

“Nor half-elves either, I don't expect,” he added. 

“What say we take to the road?  We'll be there in another two miles or so, but I fear we'll get too badly tangled up if we keep going this way, and won't make it before nightfall.”

"Very well. We should be clear enough of the city that we won't encounter mobs of rabble or bands of deserters." 

Nima voiced her agreement, and the travelers extricated yourself from the tangled underbrush slowly, making their way west to the road.  They came upon it at last, to their great relief.  

By now the sun was lowering in the west. The air was full of the pregnant expectation of late afternoon, when slanted spears of yellow light glimmer with the dross of the day, and dandelion spores float softly toward evening.

Overjoyed at the feel of road underneath his feet again, Tadalac began skipping and cartwheeling; the gnome was quite acrobatic, doing small flips and handsprings with seeming ease.

They made good time now, and within an hour, just as the sun was disappearing below the horizon, the companions come upon a small town, if such it could be called.  

They could see the whole of the small settlement from a ways off, which resembled something between a shanty-town and a rural village; there were houses that appeared well-built, though albeit far from beautiful or inviting.  Other dwellings and buildings were mere shacks, cobbled from scrap wood, logs, and tin sheets all tied together with twine, nails, pine sap, and other such rudiments.  Small fields lay around the edges of the town; here and there people were planting rows of corn, wheat, or barley. In other stretches, hard-spun folk were planting root vegetables, some sparing a glance for the travelers as they approached. A boy with dark, serious eyes, and a grime-streaked face worked silently alongside an older man, his father most like. The man was digging a furrow, guiding a ox-pulled plow for the boy to observe. 

The man’s left hand was badly mangled, Bruckner noticed as they passed. A mass of red scar tissue sat where his thumb and forefinger should have been. 

The man and his son looked up as the trio passed. The farmer spit stoically into the dirt, and returned to his work. The boy’s eyes lingered on Bruckner’s sword, then snagged upon the swordsman’s gaze. A light seemed to glimmer in the deadened dark of the boys gaze, then some sneer twisted his lip, and he turned away as if angry, stomping toward the plow, and demanding that he be allowed to try it himself.

They stopped once within the gates, to survey the eclectic township. On the far side of town, they could just make out a large penned-in field of sheep, who are baaing softly in the twilight, their bells clanking gently as they move to and fro, grazing.  In the very center of town is the most impressive building, a long, squat brick affair with no less than four chimneys puffing merrily.

Tadalac tugged on Nima’s cloak, and the hem of Bruckner’s tunic. They bent low to listen, for he spoke softly.

"You must both be on your guard here; many of the people in Thorn are criminals and convicts, who've moved here to be away from the law of the Lords.  This will make them reticent to cause trouble for outsiders in one way, but," 

he shrugged.  

"You know how bad people are; they cause trouble!  Especially when they've been drinking, as this lot always has.  We should head to the tavern," 

he points to the long squat brick building, 

"to seek out information. And for a drink or three!  I should tell you beforehand though; these people know Tadalac, a little.  Sometimes I come here for information on goings-on in these parts, because normally bad people know what other bad people are up to.  But I always act very, very silly around these people; Tadalac lets his natural silliness shine through here.  It seems to make them less mad at me; perhaps they don't think a silly tiny   gnome is a threat to them, so they listen to a few songs, laugh a lot, call me names, and then speak freely in front of me."  

He shrugged. 

"So, when I start acting silly, it is not because I have forgotten my mission to serious myself, but because that is how they trust me! Well, how they know me, at least. Or rather, how they forget I’m there? I don’t know. These people make very little sense. They don’t even know what they want! Haha. Whatever the case, shall we head in?"  

"Lead on."

Nima ran her fingers through her hair, making the best she could of it after a day of hard and tangled travel.

Soon they were proceeding along a smaller dirt path towards the central street; candles, or cheap ensorcelled lights shone within several houses, but there were few people about.  A tall man staggered past the group, leading a mule behind him, and Nima spied two figures sitting in semi-shadow by the door of a dark house, whispering in an unknown tongue. They paid the travelers no heed as they passed.

Tadalac led them to the large building with four chimneys. Two broken lengths of rusted chain hung stiffly over the door, the sign they had once supported now leaning against the wall. Rudely carved letters with fading paint announced the place as “The  og’s Foot.”

“Should be “Dog’s Foot,” Tadalac said mildly. “Someone stole the D.”

The door was wide open, and several figures stood outside, two smoking pipes, a third vomiting behind a water barrel.  They looked at the group suspiciously, then noticed Tadalac who waved energetically. One of them, an ugly man with a matted thatch of greasy red hair made a drunken conjecture about Tadalac’s parentage as the other guffawed. Tadalac laughed heartily, and hit back, suggesting that the man had best return to the sheep pen, as Tadalac could hear his wife bleating. The men laughed, breathed half-serious drunken oaths they would forget before they next belched, and turned back to their conversation.

Bruckner, Nima, and Tadalac entered the tavern; it was gloomily lit, a small fire smoking in the central circular fireplace, and candles set on hooks jutting out from the support beams and walls.  Old tables were scattered throughout the room, and a long bar, etched with endless scrawlings and knifemarks extended along the wall. 

A wizened elf sat by the end of the bar, playing a sad melody on a lute.  He did not sing.  A burly man with a thick beard stood behind the counter, staring off into space with his right eye. He left eye was gone, nothing but a scarred and blackened pit remaining.  The room was littered with figures here and there, sitting around tables in twos and threes.

The travelers counted seven figures in total, aside from the barkeep and the lute player. There was a heavily muscled dwarf with ringlets tied into his auburn beard, a giant tanker of mead in his hand, speaking quickly in Dwarvish to a smallish hooded figure. Two middle-aged human men sat drinking together in silence in a corner. In the opposite corner sat a woman who wore a falchion on her back in a shoulder sheath, a shank of lamb on the table before her. Two other hooded figures sat at the table with her. The three were conversing softly. Bruckner thought the place had a dark feel to it, and a discomfiting lack of cheer.

“Go ahead and settle in,” 

Tadalac said, setting his pack on the floor by his chair. 

“Keep an eye on my things, won’t you? I'm going to the back and see if I can find Llewelyn.” 

 And with that, the gnome headed to the back of the bar, waving gleefully at the barkeep, and gesturing at a rear door. The one-eyed proprietor signaled his assent dismissively. Tadalac could only just reach the handle, but he managed it.  

The other patrons, who had turned, nearly as one body, to examine the newcomers when they arrived, had largely lost interest, returning to their own troubles and tankards. Many kept an eye turned that way, however as Nima noted, watching carefully, without seeming to watch.

The barkeep, after nodding to Tadalac, surveyed Bruckner and Nima with a cold eye.

Bruckner walked straight to the bar, affecting a jovial attitude, as if ignorant of the interest their arrival had generated. He pulled a gold dazrin from his coin purse and placed it on the bar.

"Three good meals, sir, with roast meat, please, and three flagons of ale." 

The one-eyed man looked down at the coins slowly, then without touching them raised his eye to stare at Bruckner. 

"Where you lot in from?" 

he asked gruffly.  Many of the people in the bar were still staring. Bruckner noted the woman with the falchion in particular studying both he and Nima. The muscular dwarf was jawing on loudly, indifferent to the changes around him.

Bruckner responded, his tone one of cheerful neutrality.

"We're travelers, friends of Tadalac. I'm from Cormorant, by origin, but now I live on the road. Spent some time in Emennia, but it seems they're having some troubles now, so we're on the road again."

The man snorted.  

"Friends of that little walking mouth, eh?  Surprised anyone can stand 'im long enough to call 'im that.  Well, no difference."  

The man slid the coin into his hand, and counted out Bruckner’s change onto the bar -- a grubby silver disc and a few coppers bits.  

“Food'll be out in a few minutes. My boy'll bring out your ales directly, though.  Sit where you like."  

He began to turn, then looked back, bending his eye hard on Bruckner. 

"We're a quiet group o' folk, hear?  We mind ourselves, and appreciate guests doin' the same.  Don't be lookin' to make no trouble with that pretty blade of yours."

"Oh, no doubt, I'm with you there. We'll just have a bite to eat and be passing on. Thank you." 

Nima sat quietly, straining her keen ears to see what she could hear of the discussions among the patrons. The dwarf continued his monologue to his silent companion in a foreign, Dwarvish tongue. She watched the woman with the curved blade and her companions were. The strange woman glanced up, and their eyes met a moment. The woman made a swift hand motion, and began speaking over her companion. Nima caught a few words: as best she could make out, they were discussing the price of a plot of land in the region.

Bruckner returned to the table Nima and Tadalac had chosen, the nearest to the door, taking up a seat with his back to the wall. He settled into a wary rest, keeping an eye on all that transpired. Almost at once, a small boy, certainly no more than six or seven, struggling under the weight of three foaming tankards, made his way to the table, setting the tray down with a heavy thunk.  He gave Bruckner a shy smile, his eyes darting to the black sword, at his belt, a childish awe in his face.  

“Are you a bwave warwior?' he asks.

"I try to be. I'm sure you see many brave warriors in this tavern." 

Bruckner slipped the silver piece, and the coppers the barkeep had given him, into the boy’s hand.

He seemed startled, and, though his eyes lit up brightly, his look quickly turned to one of nervousness, his eyes darting back to the bar.  The owner’s back was turned, however. as he shuffles around with some items against the far wall.  The boy smiled at Bruckner anxiously, his eyes both thanking and pleading, and slipped the coins into his shoe.  He hurried off.  Ten minutes passed, and then the boy returned, bearing one massive plate at a time; roast lamb shanks, sweet potatoes, and mashed peas covered the platters. Nima and Bruckner were relieved to see that, despite the gloomy and humble air of the place, the food appeared edible.

Bruckner sniffed his beer and food cautiously, then shrugged, and began to eat. Nima ate as well, occasionally feeding scraps to her raven.

The meal now underway, Tadalac emerged from the back room, with a gigantic half-orc in tow; he appeared to be in the middle of some humorous anecdote, because the giant half-orc was laughing uproariously: a rather alarming sound.  Tadalac hopped up onto the chair next to Nima’s, and said, 

"This is Llewelyn; he lives 'round these parts, and was kind enough to sell me a pony, and two horses for you."  

He smiled, turning confidentially to Nima, saying, "horses are faster than people, you know" with a knowing smile that seems to say: 'keep it under your hat'.  

Tadalac attempted to pick up the roast lamb shank, then, when he was unable to get a good grip on it, simply laughed and lowered his face to it, tearing off a tiny bite, then sat back stoically to tip a little of the ale into his mouth.  Llewelyn finally wore out his mirth and says loudly, 

"So, this little mongrel tells me you're on the trail of that yellow-bellied King who went missin', eh?" 

At the question about King Janessin, Bruckner, noticed the exotic woman's eyes dart over to their table. as Llewelyn asks his question about Janessin.  Nima was considering the half-orc.

She doubted that his intentions were altogether honest; he was obviously somewhat intoxicated, and she could sense tension in his tone.  She could not say, however, if this stemmed from some personal interest in Janessin, or simply because this was a belligerent and savage humanoid who had over-imbibed.

Bruckner called out with studied joviality to the barkeep, "Another drink, sir! For my friend!"

Straightaway the boy emerged again, carrying another large tankard of ale, which he set quickly on the table before scampering back to the bar.  Llewelyn laughed heartily, seeming to ease up, and picked up the tankard with gusto. 

"Thank you lad!" he called, tipping the mug back and draining perhaps half of the ale in one go.  He belched loudly, setting it back down with a thunk.  

"It's a real treat to meet youth with manners these days.  Tadalac, you keep good company!"  

He laughed loudly again, finishing off the drink.  "Ahhh!" he says, belching again.

Bruckner gestured for one more. It was fast in emerging.

"Nothing like good ale! Never trust the one who won't drink!" 

And then, turning to Tadalac, Bruckner quietly asked: 

"Tadalac, old man, will we be staying here tonight in this excellent company? Or had we better be on our way?"

Tadalac leans in close as the boy presented another ale to Llewelyn, who set to it with his characteristic enthusiasm.  Tadalac whispered: 

“Llewelyn isn't too dangerous, but he can be unpredictable; I think if he gets drunk enough he will pass out once we get him home, and he won't mind us sharing in his hospitality; that way we don't have to travel these dangerous parts by night.  Plus, Tadalac thinks the big oaf may know something about the recent troubles.  When we were out back haggling over the horses, he muttered something about that strange woman; I'm not sure what he knows.  He seems to like you; perhaps you can ask him about it.”

As Tadalac finished, Llewelyn crashed his mug down to the table, crowing jovially, "what are you two girls whispering about, eh?  Come on, boy, a man don't like to drink alone!" he said, looking at Bruckner expectantly.

Without giving Bruckner a chance to speak, the big half-orc, swaying slightly in his seat, said,

"And--hic!--you never answered my--hic--question; 'bout old man Janessin?  You lot--hic!--tracking him?"

Bruckner called for more ale, and drank small sips as Llewelyn emptied tankards. The swordsman feigned a growing intoxication.

"What do you suppose did happen to the King? We got out of Emennia sharpish when everything started falling apart." 

While the men talked, Nima kept an eye, and both ears, on the other customers, but she could hear little over the din made by Llewelyn, except the ongoing rant of the dwarf at the next table.

Llewelyn lifted yet another tankard, and laughed, saying: 

"I tell you lad, I tell you what--hic--happened to that old king.  He passed by here not ten—hic—days ago", 

a long pause ensued as he drank deep. 

"Passed by with some devilish lookin' folk, in a--hic--wagon, all lit up with queersome light, blue and red; dark magics my guess they was.  Didn't see it my--hic--self, but I knows a fella what did.  Came right past" 

he slammed his fist down on the table, to emphasize, apparently, how close they came 

"our town, they did.  Strange stuff."  

His eyes darted around the bar for a moment, falling momentarily on the strange woman and her companions; she is looking at her companions, but she would have to be deaf not to have heard every word that Llewelyn has said.  His eyes made their way back to Bruckner, and he said in a stage whisper: 

"Lots o' strange stuff 'round here these days..." 

Bruckner gave a low whistle. 

"Queer and devilish. I wouldn't want to be the King. Who would? Carting him off to the blackest pits of hell, I'm sure." 

"Nah, you got it all wrong lad!" 

Llewelyn nearly bellowed, lifting his head abruptly up from off the table where it had fallen as Bruckner spoke.  

"Them's weren't taking the king, like; rather he was goin' with 'em, like he wanted to be there!  Leastwise that's what this fella saw.  Straight north up the road, easy as you please, the king in a cart with his head on a devil woman's lap.” 

His head tilted back before dropping forward, his chin against his chest; he was fast losing consciousness.  Tadalac laughed, leaping on the table, startling the big creature.  

“Oh Llewelyn! You do say the strangest things!  I'm sure you're friend saw no such thing!  You know how you are when it comes to telling tales.  Saw King Janessin with some devils indeed!  Idle gossip!  Come now big fella, let's get you home; you've had a skinful!"  

Tadalac raised his eyebrows at the other two, gesturing at the door with his head.

Bruckner rose, shouldered his pack. He made a show of fumbling in his coin purse, then carefully placed another gold coin on the table. He turned then to help Llewelyn to his feet, one of the big brute’s arms thrown around Bruckner’s shoulders for support. He staggered alongside the half-orc to the door as though drunk, calling out tipsily: 

"We thank you, sir, for the excellent food, excellent ale, and fine hospitality! Goodnight!" 

Nima rose to follow Bruckner, Tadalac, and the drunk into the night. The air outside had grown cold, and the wind was murmuring. As they passed through the door, Nima nudge Bruckner, 

“I’ll be along shortly,” she said quietly.

“Tread lightly,” 

Bruckner cautioned. Tadalac looked concerned, but nodded, and beckoned Nima closer.

“Llewelyn’s place is a little tin shack west of here, about four hundred, ah—” 

Tadalac looked at his legs, then at Nima’s, 

“make that two hundred paces. Straight along the main road. There’s a copper statue of a pig out front. Actually, you can see it from here, if you watch us.”

“A copper pig?”

“That’s right.”

Nima found this strange, and her eyes must have said as much, for Tadalac shrugged.

As Bruckner, Tadalac and Nima began making their loud and raucous way, Nima quickly darted to the side of the long bar hall, sinking into the shadows and keeping out a keen eye and ear. 

She watch Bruckner, Llewelyn and Tadalac make their way towards a small hovel some 90 yards away, and as she watched, the bar door creaked open slightly, and a hooded figure of medium build emerged. Their face was covered with shadow, but Nima sensed that the figure was surveying the town, and all that is moving within it. The stranger did not seem to have noticed Nima.

They watched a moment more, until Bruckner and Tadalac had Llewelyn inside the house, then they disappeared back into the bar.

Nima pulled a scrap of parchment from her pack, and a small charcoal pencil. She wrote a swift note that read: 

"Someone may be planning to follow us.  You and Tadalac should leave and travel about half a mile, and then wait for me.  Send Canary with a description of your location if I haven't joined you within an hour.” 

She rolled up the note, and slipped it into the small metal tube Canary wore about its leg.

“Find Bruckner,” she whispered, and the bird was gone. She then found a deserted alley and swiftly changed clothes. She applied dark rouge to her cheeks, and put on a woolen travelling cap to cover the points of her ears.

Meanwhile, Bruckner and Tadalac shoved open the door to Llewelyn’s place. The house, if such it could be called was dark and dank.  Empty bottles littered the floor and lined the window sill; a rusting scimitar hung on the far wall.  In one corner were collected a heap of carpentry tools. A stained, straw-filled mattress lay near the room’s center, alongside an ash-choked firepit.

Bruckner dropped Llewelyn as lightly as he could manage onto the mattress, the creature rolled onto his side, and began snoring loudly, and uttering occasional imprecations directed against some foes of the dream-world.

Bruckner checked the room, and a small adjacent space that appears to be a type of working kitchen; a large hole in the roof allows the moonlight to shine down on a firepit; a variety of grease-stained pots and kettles lay on the ground around it, some with half-rotten food clinging to the insides. The smell was awful.

After depositing his drunken charge and scouting the room, Bruckner turned to Tadalac.

"What have you learned?"

"Well, much of it he repeated to you; too loud though, Tadalac thinks.  Some of those people at the bar looked dangerous.  Llewelyn didn't trust the woman with the tattoos, or her companions.  Called them 'filthy Velthik', though Tadalac doesn't know if they really are from the land of the mad mages or not. Apparently though, Thorn has been all abuzz about King Janessin riding past here with some devilish beautiful woman-creature, heading to Mt. Elesborre."  

He shivered a bit.

"Tis cold in here Ox, and filthy.  I hate this dirty, dirty town!  What should we do now?"

Nima’s raven fluttered in the open door at that moment, cawing quietly and holding out its leg. Bruckner removed Nima’s note, and read the contents to Tadalac. The two wasted no time. Leaving Llewelyn, Tadalac led Bruckner to the small stable where their horses and Tadalac’s new pony were waiting. They saddled their new mounts, and were soon Northward into the night.  Tadalac begins giggling gleefully as the animals gallop, shouting:

“On Justicebringer!  None can stop Tadalac and his steed!  Ha ha!” 

The wind whipped their hair and tugged at their cloaks, the moonlight bathing everything in a silvery glow.  Bruckner’s new horse was a handsome roan; it looked a bit undernourished, but it was young, and had plenty of spirit.  The two rode for half an hour, Bruckner calling a halt to point out a small plateau, They found a sloping path up, and crested the rise to watch for Nima. Thorn was barely a flicker in the distance. Bruckner scrawled a description, and sent Canary back to its master. As the bird flew off, Tadalac walked to the Northern edge of the plateau.

“Bruckner!”

he called. The youth joined him, and they surveyed the scene below. Scattered about the base of Mount Elesborre were several dozen campfires, each as small, from where they stood, as a lit match across a king’s ballroom.

“What can you see?” Bruckner asked, squinting to try and discern details beyond the distant, flickering lights.

“There’s movement, I think.”

“I count at least twenty fires.”

“It must be a large host.”

“More than simply a few strays, I imagine.”

“It is no army of Sevahr. All of the martial cities have strict protocol when it comes to setting up camp. I know these things, Ox. I’ve seen them on the move and even broken bread with many of them. Those fires down there are scattered six ways from Sunday.”

“General Aleksander spoke of orcs massing on the shores of Elesborre."

“Orcs?” “In numbers, here? Very odd…”

“When Nima comes, what shall we do Ox?  I'm ready to kill some devils, and ole Justicebringer here,” he patted the little pony's flank, “is just aching for a chance to battle for good.” 

Justicebringer was munching grass sedately, apparently unaware of its own verve and daring.

Back in Thorn, Nima waited. She feared that her disguise was flimsy, but hoped that the dark of the night, and her natural affinity for stealth would shield her from unfriendly eyes. 

She waited in silence, hidden in the shadows of a burned-out hovel that stood kitty-corner from the tavern. Twenty minutes passed. Noise continued to trickle out of the bar, though the din was dying down—even the angry dwarf seemed to be tiring out (or perhaps getting too drunk to keep up his tirade). Five minutes more pass, and then a hooded figure emerged from the bar, and began walking around towards the back of the pub.

Nima slipped from the darker shadows, and trailed the person at a distance of about 20 feet; he, or she walked slowly, their footfalls almost silent on the hard packed earth.  They came to a stop near by a hitching post out back with four horses tied to it.  The figure untied three of the four horses, and turned, leading them by the bridles towards the front of the bar.  

The hooded figure turned, and light from the moon fell across his face. Nima saw a dusk-skinned man; something was covering part of his face—a wound, perhaps, or a tattoo. She could not be sure. 

He saw her. Nima was quite certain; a shadow of a smile, dangerous, passed over his face, then he turned, as if ignoring her, and led the horses forward.  He began speaking in a soft voice, his words swathed in a thick accent to the foremost horse.  

“Ah, Krellin, you have rested well I hope; we will soon be on the move again, and I will need you at your swiftest.  These are dangerous times, my friend, and all those who are where they shouldn't be will no doubt meet with a painful death.  We must make sure we are in the right places, no?"  

He walked past Nima, who was continuing on with feigned nonchalance, though her heart rate had quickened considerably, and was soon out of sight.  Only one horse remained at the hitching post, and given Tadalac's brief description to Nima in the bar, she judged that this was her new horse, a white mare that looked strong and clean of limb.

Nima struggled to place the man’s accent. It struck a vague chord in her, somehow, though she could not say for certain that she had ever heard it. Drawing more from secondhand account and imitation than first hand experience, she guessed that the rich rolling tones and drawn out vowels were indicative of a Velthik accent. She knew little about Velth itself, the Ensorcelled State, as it was called, save dark rumors of insane warlocks who ruled man and beast through cruel magicks, and black rituals of dread and eldritch purpose. Distance breeds conjecture, however, and Nima knew well that those who say the most usually know the least. All the same, Nima shivered. The fabled land lay somewhere to the Northeast, she thought, though more she did not know.

Nima loitered in an alley where she could see the front door of the tavern. The foreigner was still out front, brushing his horse down, and singing softly to it. Fifteen minutes later the woman with the curved sword, and the other hooded figure emerged and took their mounts. They spurred their mounts, and soon were riding hard, out the Northern gate and in the direction of Elesborre.

On the plateau, Bruckner and Tadalac were lying low. The night continued peacefully, up on the lonely table of stone, the wind playing a melancholy melody through the dead trees and across the time-scoured rock.  Tadalac took out a very small panpipe, and began, quite skillfully, to play a little melody that seemed to accompany the wind, and pay homage to the moon.

Nima returned quickly to where the white mare was tethered, and untied her. As she mounted the horse, Canary fluttered out of the sky, lighting Nima’s your shoulder so softly and quietly that she almost didn’t notice her.  Bruckner’s note read: 

 'T. and I are on a small plateau dead north 2 miles.  You can't miss it.  -B'.

Nima rode hard through the broken north gate. She could see plainly in such a moonlit night, but no riders could she spy on the plains ahead; the three Velthik had either outstripped her very quickly, or taken another path. She scanned the ground ahead for signs of recent riders, but the land here was all hard rock and packed earth. What vegetation she could see was sagebrush and scattergrass, hard and lean plants that told few tales. She grit her teeth in frustration, realizing she had lost them.

Soon she saw the long, low shelf of rock that Bruckner had mentioned.

Canary cawed loudly, leaping from Nima’s shoulder and flying to the right. Nima followed the raven to the sloping path that led to the plateau’s crown. As she neared the summit, her keen eyes spied the many fires scattered like coals around the foot of the mountain ahead. She looked hard, studying the ripples of movement sweeping across the valley floor beneath Elesborre. Orcs. Many orcs. She spurred her mare grimly, and rode on.

She mounted the long stone table to find Tadalac playing an enchanting panpipe song, and Bruckner keeping watch, his foot leaning against an outcropping rock, his steady gaze taking in the starlit world below, the pommel of his black sword gleaming like a dark diamond in the starlight.  The two looked over as Nima arrived.

Nima spoke tersely, without dismounting.

“You may have been followed.  By a group of three, from the tavern.  Unfortunately, I wasn't able to track them, and I cannot say for certain whether they know we are here, or where they have gone. Have you seen anything else suspicious?”

Is it suspicious that the gnome knows how to play the pipes? No? Nothing, then. You saw the fires?

“Yes. Orcs.”

“How many?”

Nima shrugged. 

“Several hundred at least.”

Bruckner nodded, then paused for a moment. 

"I'm glad you returned unharmed." And then, he quickly added: "Do we ride on?"

Tadalac set his instrument aside, and piped up, saying; 

“I think we should stay here for the night; those fires blazing at the base of Mt. Elesborre don't look like cheery, welcoming fires.  Tomorrow we can investigate them.  Plus, Tadalac is tired!"”

"Very good," Bruckner said. “I will take first watch.”

Nima and Tadalac both gratefully agreed, and the three set up camp. Wood was scarce, but they managed to get a blaze going. They supped quickly. Tadalac, much like the night before, dropped to the ground after tossing a bedroll down, and fell promptly asleep. Nima also managed to find her way into the the world of dreams, exhausted as she was from the day’s travel, and the evening’s excitement.  Bruckner sat, alone with the mournful wind, and watched the stars course slowly through the heavens. He saw little changes in the orc encampment to the North; some fires died down, others were kindled.

After three hours time, he shook Nima awake. She was alert nearly at once, and Bruckner laid down gratefully.

Nima sat and fed the fire with stunted branches, staring into the flickering light. The night was cool and quiet, giving no hint to the foul doings they sought to uncover.  After an hour or two, Tadalac came and sat quietly next to the elf maiden.  

He surprised her by speaking suddenly, saying: 

“I like the night-time; all of Tadalac's friends, the constellations come out and sit quietly with me.”  

He began to point them out, 

"the great Tiger, Belehm, who curves his paw around the moon at midnight, the laughing sisters, Gloria and Themia, the silent warrior with his great sickle. Tadalac has been keeping company with them these past three years."  

He looked happily around at the various well-known characters painted across the night sky.  His face then slowly grew rather sad, and he said, 

“Tadalac misses his friends in the Pasabalia Forest.  It has been three long years since he saw them.  But I must show them that Tadalac is not just a silly gnome, but a strong and brave gnome!  When I return, the village elder will say to everyone that Tadalac is the bravest of all gnomes! and," 

he looked down, kicking his feet slightly, 

"Tara will finally notice Tadalac".  

His face brightened and he sprang to his feet.  

"Tadalac is talking silly nonsense again!  You had better get some more sleep, little sister.  Tadalac will keep watch until the morning."

Nima opened my mouth, about to ask Tadalac more about Tara, but said nothing. She nodded at Tadalac with a small smile, and returned to her bedroll.  

The morning dawned warm and bright. Nima and Bruckner awoke to find breakfast made and Tadalac already packed and loaded onto his pony. He bade them a cheery good morning, but was eager to discuss the day before them.

"Well, it looks like there's nothing for it but to head to Mt. Elesborre.  Little sister, you seem like the type who knows how to sneak into dangerous spaces; how do you think we should get past any enemies?  If the fires we saw last night are any sign, there's a lot of them!"

Nima and Bruckner ate swiftly, then packed as they discussed strategy. 

"We should ride closer and then move off of the main road. Once we find a convenient place close by, Nima could scout ahead silently and then, if the way is clear, send Canary with word for us to come forward. If the way is not clear, she can return, and we can decide if and when to fight. Poor as we are in numbers, we may use silence and guile to our advantage. In that way, we might overcome greater numbers."  

"Sounds like a good plan.  Though I'm not certain that silence and guile are really our little group's fortes."  

Nima gave a wry smile.  

"But I will be glad for the chance to make up for my poor performance yesterday."