Decay has a power all its own.
When the healthy and whole softens, crumbles, and liquefies, an indefinable essence wafts away like putrid steam off stagnant beach sand. Decomposing flesh of what once lived radiates an essential energy in its dissipation. That power of dissolution can be siphoned by those with the proper cruel knowledge, and the appropriate twisted desire.
The Rotting Man had both.
A crystal vase held a single flower, its petals the color of bone. The flower had only four petals, each knife-sharp and strangely heavy. The vase stood upon a slab of rough cut stone; it was an altar. There, in the heart of the Close, light penetrated, but not easily. Natural light was stained and filtered by petrified limbs and leaves of ancient trees whose hearts were pure rot.
A hand extended from the darkness toward the flower. The fingers, only a little less thin than the flower's stem, stroked a petal. The entire bloom turned black with decay in seconds, and fell, stinking, to the altar-top. Somewhere in the world, a servant died. Such was the power of the Rotting Man.
The Rotting Man was an artist of putrescence. For light, he had no use, unless he could squander its promise, turning light to malaise. In music, he preferred the decrescendo, always. Promotion was a rare event in the Rotting Man's organization, though the Blightlords, his foul lieutenants, did achieve their position through applied deceit.
The hand returned to the darkness, shaking just slightly. He was always in pain. Such was the price he paid for Talona's gifts.
A tangle of twisted thought sparked across the pits of his hungry mind. He sensed it then. It was coming. A prayer would soon be answered, the fulfillment of which would spell his end. Soon. Any moment...
A ray of light fell secretly into the world, shining from a place so far beyond the sphere of the world that miles could not be used as a measure of distance. The light was a shaft of burning hope, let down to banish what shadows it could. The light was so fierce that it could scour evil with its mere presence. It sought the Rotting Man.
He laughed with rare pleasure.
The Rotting Man was ready. To him, the light's arrival was not secret. In fact, he anticipated it.
He recalled the years during which he had bred the perfect vessel to contain that light. Spilled blood, the trace of failed enterprise, and the mournful cries of dying prisoners shorn of freedom and dignity, all these he had incorporated into his living prison. Such a wonder of gro-tesquerie. Oh yes, the Rotting Man was more than ready; he was primed.
Whence came the light, he cared not. Containing it
was all that mattered. Oh, the light was so optimistic, so imbued with good intentions, so ready to be corrupted by the Rotting Man. The sentient light was oblivious of danger when it arrowed down at him from heaven.
The golden ray was gulped down by the Rotting Man's living vessel in a single instant. Absorbed, but for a tiny glint that escaped his notice. A flicker of hope, shorn of the flush of full strength, fell to earth unmarked and enfeebled. Too enervated to retain knowledge even of its own origin, the remnant was accepted into the mortal world in a guise not intended.
The Rotting Man failed to realize that he had not captured the light in its entirety.
But eventually he began to suspect.
Autumn, 1368 DR
Ash-
Hemish nearly dropped the child. From her lips the word issued, as plain as day. He took a deep breath, and instead of dropping her, he stroked her baby-brown hair. He continued along the road away from the small village, shaking his head. It was not the first time she had spoken.
Hemish was a man of simple means, a keeper of cattle. He had seen small magic, wonders, and the flashy spells of hedge wizards. He'd even once visited the city of Two Stars, and there witnessed a duel between feuding sorcerers, but a baby that could speak? Never had he heard of such a thing, but in his hands he held just such a wonder, though in truth, the only word she ever said was 'ash.' Not knowing whence she came, Hemish had taken to calling her the name that she repeated at odd intervals.
When he found her, she lay silent on a bed of emerald moss that grew up around her like a tiny cushion. She lay on her back, reaching up with her baby fingers as if attempting to touch the overhanging forest canopy. Appalled to see a child exposed to the elements, he scooped her up and brought her back to his home in the village straightaway. It was only later that she began to speak.
No local farmer or forest hunter had since appeared in town to lament a lost child. There was no claim at all upon her, save his own, and he was uncertain that he wanted to press it. He had decided to seek once again the glade where shed first come into his life. Perhaps he could discover clues of her origin that he'd earlier missed.
He cradled the girl in his arms protectively, despite his unease. Tree branches waved idly in the late evening breeze, stirring up the scents of pine, loam, and forgotten days of sunshine. The faint smell of the child, babyish and powdery, put Hemish in mind of his own daughter, before she was grown and married away.
Soon enough he arrived in the glade where he'd found the child. All was as he remembered, though the season had advanced, and seedlings and other forest growth were failing with the year. He scuffed around with his boots, looking to kick up any item or other telltale clue hidden beneath the layer of pine needles. When he turned up nothing, he moved to the base of the sapling where he'd found her.
His brows furrowed. The luxuriously soft bed of moss where he'd found her three tendays past was decidedly dead. What's more, it seemed afflicted with some brackish rot, which had eaten away at the heart of the bed before finally killing it. The rot had spread to the sapling, which drooped lifeless over the blackened moss bed. All in all, a nasty blight.
After a search of several minutes, Hemish admitted defeat. He could find nothing—he chalked the blight up
to coincidence. He sighed, chucked the baby on the chin, and made for town.
"Looks like it's going to be you and me after all, tyke," said Hemish, as he looked down into the face of the child.
The baby stared back with eyes the color of a cloudless sky. Guileless and pure they seemed, and Hemish felt his urge to protect the girl grow stronger.
It was a journey of less than an hour back to the village. In all that time, the child refrained from fussing or crying. Hemish headed straight down the main way. He turned a corner and spied Mausa. Before he could make a break for it, her gaze locked on him She stood in the middle of the road, leading a nag with a bedraggled mane. He pushed on, accepting the inevitable. Mausa regarded him with a cruel turn of her lip as he moved closer.
At first, she was content to merely skewer him with her knowing gaze. Hemish cursed his weakness in asking the woman's advice on the child. How could he have guessed she was so superstitious and hateful?
He hurried on, making as if to pass her. He attempted to fix an expression of defiance on his own features.
As he pulled up even with Mausa, she murmured, "She still talking?"
Hemish paused and sighed, "Yes. Only the one word, though."
As if to demonstrate to Mausa, the baby in Hemish's arms said, "Ash."
As she did so, one of her infant hands reached toward the horse Mausa led.
"What's she want?" scowled the woman.
Hemish moved a step closer to the bedraggled animal. Mausa was not a particularly kind master, and the draft steed was obviously sick. If Ash wanted to feel the horse's mane, he saw no harm in it.
As the child's hands combed through the equine's tangled mane, a brilliant blue spark jumped between
her fingers and horse. The horse raised its head suddenly, neighing! Its clouded eyes cleared then sparked with vitality. The matted hair in its mane smoothed. The creature nearly danced, as if restraining itself from rearing.
"By all the gods of hearth and home," Hemish mumbled, "what happened?"
He knew what had happened. The girl had the hands of a healer.
"Ash," she crooned in his arms.
Mausa's expression, too, changed. Scorn made way for fear. The woman pulled her horse quickly away.
Spring, 1373 DR
Yhe air was too warm for Marrec.
The link chain of his armor hung heavily on the padding he wore between the silver mail and his skin, causing sweat to bead and run. He removed a gauntlet, stuffed it into his belt, and mopped his brow. He felt the old scars beneath his fingers, scars hidden by his hairline. He hardly gave them a thought. After a lifetime of repressing those memories, recollections of his past rarely caught him off guard.
Marrec looked over at his companion who walked with him down the tree-lined road. He felt a little envious of Gunggari, who didn't wear much of anything, save for a collection of strange tattoos, thick-soled leather shoes, and a breech-clout. Earlier, the noon-day sun's glare had been tempered by a breeze, but the road had passed into a forested acreage. The trees stood tall on
either side but failed to reach their branches across the gap of the road. The sun beat down through the gap, but the trees blocked the cooling breeze.
"Hot enough for you, Gunny?" Marrec asked his friend.
Gunggari shrugged and smiled. "Good weather for walking."
"Maybe, if you're not wearing fifty pounds of armor," snorted Marrec.
Gunggari Ulmarra was a strange one. Though he'd traveled with the southerner for over two years, Marrec was still unused to the man's disdain for the trappings of civilization, especially clothing. All Gunggari cared about was the long, stout wooden tube he carried, which he was currently using as a walking staff. Marrec had seen Gunggari use the thing as a warclub and a musical instrument with equal facility. Colorful designs dotted the tube's exterior. It was called a dizheri and was an object peculiar to Gunggari's home. Gunggari didn't talk much about the nation of his origin, other than to say he hailed from the far south "beyond the girdle of the world" in a place called Osse. There Gunggari was known as a tattooed soldier. Marrec wasn't sure if the name was a designation or a title, as in The Tattooed Soldier. The Oslander had never deigned to explain, and Marrec didn't push him on the topic, especially because so much time had passed since they took up traveling together.
"Ask Lurue a boon—perhaps a cooling breeze?" joked Gunggari.
Lurue was Marrec's patron goddess, to whom he owed fealty and from which he drew much of his strength. Because he was already annoyed by the heat, Marrec chose to interpret the statement seriously.
"Gunny, you know I can't waste her time for personal indulgences. Besides, it's getting worse." He admitted the last almost under his breath.
He sighed. Contact with his patron goddess, Lurue
the Unicorn Queen, was growing ever more difficult. Just to see if he could, he mentally probed for the connection that used to form as easily as shafts of sunlight find the forest floor...
Marrec nearly stumbled for lack of concentrating on the uneven path.
"Watch your step," grunted Gunggari. "The stones will catch your feet if you let them." The Oslander pointed ahead, where the path ascended quickly to the crown of a hill. The west flank of the hill was hidden in crowding pines and firs that cast long shadows over the rocky way. Gunggari gave him a sidelong glance, "Are you tired? We could stop for a rest, if you like, or—is something else bothering you?"
Marrec sighted. "Lurue's silences have grown, Gunny. Last night, I almost felt as if she were absent completely. When it came time for my nightly prayer of renewal..."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That ever happened before?" quizzed Gunggari.
"No, at least not so completely. My connection has been deteriorating these last few years, like I said before, but this is the worst it's been."
"And... your vision?"
The Oslander referred to a dreamlike visitation Marrec had received several months earlier.
Gunggari continued, "Are we close enough that you can go without guidance?"
Marrec answered, "We're very close. I know that much."
The Oslander offered, "Perhaps her attention is being drawn elsewhere."
Maybe so. Where before the cleric had felt the presence of Lurue in every prayer, observance, and divine ritual, the presence had become uncertain, spotty, and sometimes altogether absent. Marrec shrugged. The cleric had met other servants of the Unicorn Queen, and while most
seemed unaffected, a few reported feeling similarly to Marrec. Those worst afflicted could no longer trust that the divine spells they cast in Lurue's name would return anew each day. Marrec suffered the same humiliation.
"Gunny, the vision was real. I didn't dream it, if that's what you're getting at."
The tattooed soldier raised both hands in a conciliatory gesture, said "I know, the 'Child of Light in Flemish's charge.'" My feet grow weary—I hope we find this Hemish in Fullpoint."
A vision had come to Marrec. From within the brilliance of a crescent moon, the silhouette of a unicorn spoke to him. The enchanting voice instructed him to seek the Child of Light and the child's guardian, Hemish. The voice indicated that finding the child would help both Marrec and one other in similar straits.
"I hope so, too," Marrec answered his friend.
Gunggari continued, "Even if it comes to nothing, I enjoyed our trip across the Sea of Fallen Stars. It nearly rivaled my trip across the Great Sea. I trust your last divination, the most recent one."
Marrec realized the Oslander was not needling him. Gunggari merely said what was on his mind, nothing more or less. As his friend said, his last pure divinatory contact with neglectful Larue pointed unerringly to the village of Fullpoint. Fullpoint lay several leagues west and somewhat south of a large city called Two Stars. They'd traveled along the trade road known as the Golden Way since debarking from their ship in Telf lamm. They had turned off southeast before reaching Two Stars, to Gunggari's disappointment. The visitors had been told that Two Stars was a city where Trade was coddled as if a favorite son, and nothing was forbidden.
Marrec said, "The closer we come to finding Hemish, and hopefully this mysterious Child of Light, the spottier becomes my contact. I doubt that Lurue does not want me to answer this riddle, and I don't think she is
becoming neglectful... I think that she is somehow being prevented from making contact..."
Marrec stopped speaking and cocked his head.
"Did you hear that?"
Faint cries and the ring of metal on metal echoed from over the hill. A thick stream of smoke tumbled up from behind the rise ahead. Something was burning, and it didn't look like a chimney.
"Let's go!" shouted Marrec.
Racing to the top of the hill, Marrec and Gunggari saw the source of the cries and smoke: a small village in the forest clearing was'under attack. Creatures swarmed around the buildings, smiting villagers and setting fire to buildings. At first glance, the attackers seemed to be small animate trees.
"By the Ancestor," muttered Gunggari. The Oslander swept up his walking staff, ready for trouble, brandishing it like the warclub it actually was. He waited for Marrec's cue.
Marrec took a second to take stock.
The attacking creatures were not trees after all. In fact, they somewhat resembled humans, though their skin was the deep olive-green of a pine needle. Their flesh was woody and tough, but they all sported oozing sores from which a putrid slime seeped, as if they were slowly rotting. Their hair grew out in long, thick locks scaled like the bark of a young tree. Their eyes gleamed black with hatred. The creatures seemed somewhat familiar to Marrec, something he'd learned about in his training: they were similar to creatures called volodnis, but he didn't think true volodnis had such a sense of rot or decay about them as these oozing creatures had, but he was no expert.
Buildings continued to burn. Several humans and attackers lay wounded or dead in the village street. If the creatures had some goal, it wasn't apparent, unless it was simple mayhem.
A sickening realization occurred to Marrec. He said, "Gunggari... I think this is the village of Fullpoint!"
With that, he leaped down the other side of the hill, pulling his spear from where he kept it strapped to his back. Called Justlance, the spear tip was fashioned of gleaming adamantine in the shape of a regal unicorn horn. It was possessed of a potent enchantment that Marrec's past enemies had learned to fear, if they survived their initial meeting.
Gunggari followed Marrec but first raised one end of the long warclub to his lips. He blew down the hollow tube carved through the bole. A noise blazed forth. The sound, like a huge animal roaring or screaming—Marrec could never be sure—froze the volodnis and villagers alike with its hackle-raising ululation.
Marrec used the moment of distraction to run right up to one of the startled outlying attackers. The blighted thing had been in the middle of throttling a young farmer. Barely pausing in his dash toward the center of town, the unicorn warrior swept the tip of his spear across the volodni's neck. With a gurgling cry of pain, the creature flopped to the ground, oozing a combination of clear sap and black rot. Its former captive jumped back, gasping for breath, but Marrec was already running toward a larger concentration of attackers.
Gunggari was right on Marrec's heels. The tattooed soldier was far quicker than Marrec, especially without armor weighing him down, which proved lucky. A blighted volodni Marrec hadn't noticed jumped him from behind. Gunggari's warclub crunched against the creature's head, and the beast bleated and fell away from Marrec before it could do much more than scratch at his armor. Marrec darted a glance backward and saw that Gunggari had engaged the creature. He knew it'd take but seconds for Gunggari to dispatch an average foe. For all Marrec's physical prowess, he knew that the tattooed soldier was his better in straight-up combat, but not by much.
The other attackers began to respond to Marrec and Gunggari's advance. Marrec could hear them calling to one another, warning of the counterattack. Their speech had the sound of pine-needles rubbing together in a strong wind. Ahead, the creatures began to mass. Other outlying attackers began to fade back into the trees.
It was difficult to estimate how many rot fiends had to be dealt with. Marrec spied more of the creatures running off into the trees that lined the town to the northwest. Good, the fewer he had to deal with the better. Unfortunately, a few braver creatures ahead were obviously prepared to receive their charge. Better take it slow.
"How many, do you think?" asked Marrec, pausing his headlong rush.
"More than ten, less than twenty," responded Gunggari, as he came up alongside.
"Like those odds?"
"I've faced worse."
"Then let's show these failed trees their mistake," exclaimed Marrec. "I'll take the right flank. You got left?" Gunggari nodded.
They charged. Marrec peeled off to the right, Gunggari left. The volodnis' force split roughly down the middle, but those making up Marrec's half failed to turn quickly enough to defend against his initial spear thrust. The spiral spear-head began to glow white, a light akin to the moon's glow, though it wasn't too distinct in day's full light. The first one went down with a spear thrust to the eye. Black rot spewed but failed to adhere to Justlance, just one of the advantages of a weapon blessed by a deity.
Two other creatures rushed forward where their brother had fallen. One attempted to duck under the shaft while the other offered a distraction. Marrec had been a spear fighter long enough to know that the first rule of the spear is to never allow an enemy to get under the range of the shaft. He backed up a step and choked up his grip. A slash across the creature's exposed stomach
ended its days. The other used that second to launch itself, but Marrec knew what he was doing. Without changing his grip, he swung the butt-end of the shaft around in a violent figure eight, catching the monster on the temple. The beast was stunned just long enough for another thrust. Another rot fiend down.
Something banged against his left shoulder hard enough to spin him half around. Another blighted volodni, a thick cudgel in hand, had appeared from the rear, landing a solid blow. Pain arced from his shoulder a second later, but it wasn't fast enough to stop him from downing the author of his discomfort with an expert thrust of Justlance.
Only four more were facing in his direction. He'd thinned them enough to tell that much. Behind them, a furious churning of limbs, clubs, and shouts showed that the tattooed soldier was still on his feet. Marrec had expected nothing less, but it wasn't the time to get cocky.
The villagers who'd borne the brunt of the attack were taking advantage of Marrec and Gunggari's advent to pull back from the conflict. Some had pails and were, shouting about the fire. Good. If they were quick enough, only a few outbuildings would burn.
"Marrec!"
The unicorn warrior's gaze snapped back to the fight. Apparently their foes had decided that splitting themselves between Marrec and Gunggari was a poor choice. They'd rectified it by concentrating all their attacks on Gunggari. The Oslander was pressed up against the wooden palisade, keeping his attackers at bay with crushing swings of his dizheri. Even as he watched, Gunggari batted one of the creatures back so hard that it actually flew several feet through the air before tumbling into a dead, oozing heap. The smell of putrid rot intensified. Another scored a hit with its cudgel, causing the Oslander to stumble.
Time to bring to bear another facet of Lurue's power.
While he reveled in his martial skill, the divine power Lurue granted her servants was just as potent, or it had been, before the change. These days, each spell was hard won, and Marrec used them sparingly. Each one he used was a precious gift, that seemingly could no longer be replaced.
Taking one hand from Justlance's shaft, he began to inscribe a Sign of Capitulation in the air with one finger, drawing lines of burning fire with quick strokes. Before he could properly finish, a volodni menacing Gunggari glanced back, squealed, and tried to stick a sword in Marrec's belly.
Marrec had to abandon the spell before finishing the air rune.
"Curse you!" exclaimed Marrec, fumbling backward. That spell was hard won, and he wondered if he would be able to renew it or another of its potency with things being what they were. To see the spell wasted without effect made the unicorn warrior see red. "Rot take you!"
The blighted volodni followed up on its success by pressing its attacks with a series of wild swings, some of which landed. None pierced Marrec's silver mail, but each would leave a painful bruise.
"Think you've got me?" Marrec asked his attacker. Taking up Justlance in both hands, he knocked aside his attacker's blade, then completed the motion by driving the shaft a foot into the creature's breast. "Turns out, you're wrong."
In the meantime, Gunggari had eradicated a few more attackers. As Marrec moved in once more to help the Oslander, the remaining creatures broke off and fled toward the trees. Marrec launched his spear at the hindmost rot fiend. The shaft arrowed through the air and struck a volodni's retreating form at a distance of thirty feet. The force of the cast knocked the creature to the ground, pinning the beast where it lay. The volodni moved no more, though it commenced leaking a tainted fluid.
"You like risks," commented Gunggari, as the Oslander began to stoically clean the sides of his musical instrument-cum-warclub. "What if your throw had merely lodged in the rotting one? He could have retreated with your weapon."
"The shot was clear, I knew I wouldn't miss. Besides, perhaps, even after all this time, you don't know all Justlance's abilities."
Gunggari raised one eyebrow. Marrec just smiled without elaborating. He was naturally lighthearted and preferred to focus on the positive, though internally he still cursed the loss of the Sign of Capitulation. He quickly paced the distance to where his spear still stood quivering in the form of the blighted volodni. The stink was unpleasant. Pulling the shaft free released an even stronger whiff of corruption which pushed Marrec back.
"Phew! These things aren't undead, but they are almost as rot-infested as an animated corpse."
"If not undead, then what? I assumed they were the work of necromancy," called Gunggari from where he stood, still cleaning his dizheri. Because it was his sole possession, the tattooed solider was never lax in the instrument's care.
"Don't know. Something bad, though," Lurue's cleric offered, grinning at his own understatement.
A few villagers, having saved what buildings they could from the fire, eyed Gunggari. It was obvious they didn't quite know what to make of the southerner. The Oslander pretended not to notice the looks as he finalized the process of returning the dizheri to an unblemished state.
Marrec walked toward two who seemed to have led the fire-extinguishing initiative, an older man and a stern, dark haired woman. As he walked up, the woman eyed him.
She said, "You have the thanks of Fullpoint, but if you're looking for a reward, I'm afraid the town's treasury was used earlier this spring to buy seed."
Marrec shook his head, "Nope. It was a deed done for pure purposes, and with the blessing of Lurue, the queen of goodly peoples and beasts everywhere. My name is Marrec, and I am Lurue's servant. My friend's name is Gunggari Ulmarra, and he is a traveler from far lands but a good soul."
"I'm Tansia; this is Korven," the woman said, pointing to the older man. "You have our thanks. Though we can't pay you in coin, we can put you up and feed you and your companion for as long as you wish to stay in Fullpoint."
"Very kind, Tansia, but perhaps you can answer me a question: I seek one named Hemish, Hemish of Fullpoint. Do you know this man?" Hope pitched Marrec's voice slightly higher than his normally smooth baritone.
The woman nodded, looking bemused, "Hemish? Of course. He keeps cattle. He lives just east of here on the town's edge. I can take you there."
"Please, lead on."
As they walked, leading a procession of the curious, Tansia asked, "Pardon my curiosity, Marrec, but what brings you to Fullpoint after Hemish? He is a simple man, and he and his daughter keep pretty much to themselves."
Marrec said simply, "He was revealed to me in a vision."
Tansia nodded uncertainly but said nothing more. In short order, she led him up to a home little different than many of the other village buildings. It, too, showed signs of the recent conflict. Marrec decided he didn't like the look of the bashed and ruined door, which hung off its hinges. He rushed up the two steps and looked inside. He had Justlance ready in case of lingering rot fiends.
An older man lay on the floor, bleeding, but alive, and conscious. His wild eyes met Marrec's. His mouth moved, as he tried to get something out.
Marrec kneeled to tend the fallen man. "If you're Hemish, I've come a long way seeking you. I'll heal your wounds, don't worry."
Still the man, his white hair in disarray and eyes wild, tried to speak.
"What is it? What are you trying to tell me?" wondered Marrec.
Finally, Hemish spoke.
"They've taken her!"
V
CHAPTER 3
Hemish's pronouncement was unlikely to bode anything but poorly for Marrec's quest, but first things first. Marrec probed the man's wounds with an experienced hand. The worst was a head wound The cleric would be able to dress the other gashes and scrapes with gauze and salve he kept for mundane hurts, but the head wound would turn ugly if left untended by anything less than divine cleansing. Marrec sighed. His resolution to conserve his divine spells in case he completely lost contact with Lurue was being tested. There was Hemish, whom he had sought on the goddess' inspiration. He was there because of a divine vision.
He laid a hand upon the fallen man's brow and whispered the words of power given him The head wound ceased seeping blood as the puncture closed over as if it had never been. As the pain faded, Hemish blinked in surprise, but
his mouth began to work, as if newfound health was the fuel he needed to launch into a yelling fit.
Marrec cut off Hemish before he could begin, "There. The pain should fade," said Marrec.
He helped the man to his feet. Hemish grew somewhat less wild about the eyes but remained quite agitated.
The man finally managed to yell, "Did you see her? My daughter? One of those tree men ran off with Ash!"
Daughter? Apprehension sent goose bumps stippling down Marrec's arms. Was this missing girl the Child of Light, stolen from him just as he was about to find her?
Hemish made as if to rush outside, but a pain more spiritual than physical seemed to unsteady the man. He began to pitch forward as if in a faint. Marrec reached out a hand to steady him.
"Easy. Rest a moment. We'll get her back," promised Marrec, as he righted a chair and helped Hemish to the seat. "Wait here."
Marrec ducked his head out the door. He located the tattooed soldier who waited outside, who was fending off the thanks of grateful villagers.
"Gunggari—there's been a kidnapping—a child was taken from Hemish. I think... it might be the child we're seeking, but I don't know for certain. I need to speak further with this man. Can you get a bead on the kidnappers, quick?"
The Oslander nodded. Without a word he traced a path of footprints from the door of the home, slinking toward the trees where the volodnis had retreated, stepping quietly but moving with some speed. Experience with his friend's abilities told Marrec that Gunggari could track most anything, but he would wait for Marrec's help before launching any sort of counterattack or rescue. Marrec ducked back into the house.
The older man looked into Marrec's eyes and said, "Thank you. Why are you helping me? I don't even know you. My name is Hemish."
"Yes, I know. I'm Marrec, but that's not important right now. I have a pressing question for you, one I have traveled leagues to ask." Marrec paused for a breath. "Hemish, have you ever seen or heard of somebody or something called the 'Child of Light?'"
Thought creased Hemish's brow. He said, "Well, can't say that I have. Has it got anything to do with Ash?"
Intuition tickled Marrec, growing stronger. It was exactly the sort of feeling he had learned to trust as subtle guidance from the higher world. Marrec said, "Hemish, I believe that your daughter, Ash, is the Child of Light I seek, the child whom I've been seeking these long months."
Hemish looked at Marrec, nonplussed, and said, "Why? What's this business with 'light' and seeking? Ash hasn't done anything. She's normal, if a little slow in the head."
Marrec laid a hand on the man's shoulder and replied, "I assure you, I come with no sinister intent, exactly the opposite. The Child of Light is important to the goddess Lurue, also called the Wild Mother and Healing Hand. I am her servant, and on her behalf, I've sought the Child of Light. If Ash and the Child of Light are one and the same, this can only be a joyous occasion."
"Joyous—what are you talking about? She's been kidnapped, I told you."
"I've never known Gunggari to fail. He'll find her. Meantime, I ask you, please tell me more of your daughter, Ash."
Hemish continued to think, looking up at Marrec, then fingering the wound Marrec had healed. It didn't take him long to reach a decision. More calmly than before, he said, "It doesn't surprise me that someone has finally come asking about her, actually. She is different, despite what I just said. She is special. I count myself the luckiest man alive that it was I who found her lying so helpless in the trees almost five years now gone past."
Marrec's pulse raised in tempo, "She's not your natural born child?"
"No. She's a foundling, but just as precious despite that."
A foundling... Marrec, too, had been raised by those who were not his real parents, he, too, having being found out alone in the elements by kindly people. Could there be some sort of connection? Marrec's fingers brushed at the scars hidden by his hairline, wondering.
"Does she... does she have a way about her eyes... or something not quite right about her hair?" asked Marrec, with a tentative note in his voice.
"Uhm, no. The strange thing is, she can speak. Well, speak enough to say a single word, even from the day I found her. Ash' is the word she says, and it's what I call her. That, and..." Hemish paused, gauging Marrec's reaction. "That, and her touch is magic. If you've taken a hurt or are feeling poorly, Ash's touch can grant you relief."
The healer's hand. Nothing like his own "condition," then. Marrec sighed. Still, if she was the Child of Light and somehow connected with the Unicorn Queen, her healing touch wasn't an ability completely unexpected.
"A healer. Truly, a gift from Lurue."
Hemish said, "She's my Ash, and she's been taken by those things. If she's somehow tied up with you and your god, it's funny that you show up just now, just as she's taken away from me. Maybe you drew those creatures here. What if you're to blame?" His voice cracked from strain and a sudden anger.
Marrec banished thoughts of his own young memories. First things first. The Child of Light was in immediate danger.
"Hemish, I'm going to find her. I'm going to save her from those creatures that took her from you, and I'm going to discover just what her connection is to Lurue and the goddess' growing silence. Right now, I value her safety above that of all others. You'll know soon enough if I succeed."
The unicorn warrior strode from the house. He'd
spent enough time gathering information—more could be learned later when he'd secured the child's safety. Villagers were still gathered outside, talking about the events of the day. They quieted when Marrec exited Hemish's home. He waved to them as he quickly moved to the edge of the trees where Gunggari had darted into the woods.
Marrec called back over his shoulder, "I'm going to find Hemish's girl," for the benefit of queries he heard in his wake.
Within the shade of the first few trees, Marrec smiled. He found what he'd hoped—a tiny cairn of hastily assembled pebbles. Gunggari had left the marker indicating the direction he'd taken in tracking the blighted volodnis. That was a technique they'd used before. Marrec couldn't go nearly as quietly as the Oslander, but following markers, he could bring up the rear quickly enough.
Marrec strode confidently into the trees on the trail of Gunggari, fleeing volodnis, and he hoped, the Child of Light. How odd that she should be a foundling, just as Marrec had been.
¦©¦¦©¦¦©•¦©¦<£>¦
Tired and alone, the child waved his arms ineffectually and tried to crawl into the center of the empty road. He didn't know why he had been abandoned; he was too young to remember much. He ceased crying hours earlier. He was too tired and too hungry to cry. All that was left was dreary persistence.
When Harmon the cobbler found the infant, the child was nearly dead of exposure. Staring up at the newcomer who had intruded on his field of view, the child made a small sound, trying to give voice to his day of loneliness and cold. Only a whimper escaped the infant's lips.
Harmon was a good man and did the right thing. The cobbler brought the baby boy back into town. Harmon and his wife Celia nursed the young boy back to health
and began to ask around as to the child's identity, but it was soon clear that no one would claim the lost boy. Apparently, he was an orphan.
Harmon named the boy Marrec and brought the foundling into his family. Already the father of six other children, the cobbler and his wife didn't make the decision lightly. Marrec was another mouth to feed and another responsibility for Harmon and Celia, but soon enough Marrec came to regard the kind man and his smiling wife as his real parents. Being only a year and a half old, unable to recall his past, where he had come from, or even how he had been abandoned in the wilderness, Marrec made that internal transition automatically.
Marrec grew into a healthy, inquisitive boy. Though raised as a brother, his older siblings always treated him a little differently, keeping him at something of a distance. That was fine with Marrec. He delighted mostly in the arts of sword, spear, and bow, though he also found solace in the wild. Marrec was particularly fond of the deer, the coyotes, and other animals of hill and glen. He kept many pets of that sort as he grew older, though his parents frowned on anything more dangerous than a hare. His adopted brothers and sisters cared more for the arts of commerce, specifically cobbling, except for his step-brother Emmon. Emmon shared Marrec's passion for the wild, though he didn't share Marrec's facility with swords, staves, and other implements of the warrior. Emmon often accompanied Marrec on his treks out of town into the edges of the badlands. Growing up, Emmon was Marrec's closest friend.
Once Marrec and Emmon stayed out overnight on a dare. They set out, pockets bulging with hard rolls. Marrec had even thought to bring a waterskin filled from the well. Had the rain stayed away, their short overnight trip would have gone unremembered, but the rain did come that night, and with it a drop in temperature so extreme that the two boys were forced to seek shelter. They found
a small cave, as had a mountain bear who was not eager to share.
The bear swiped Emmon across the shoulder, adding a flow of blood to the rain's deluge. The attack's brutality tumbled Marrec back out into the rain with his step-brother. Emmon lay moaning off to the side, while Marrec lay sprawled not more than a few feet from the cave. His hands scrabbled across the rain-slick forest floor. As the bear emerged from the cave-mouth to finish off the two intruders, one of Marrec's hands closed about a thick wooden shaft. Knowledge flashed into his head—he knew what he had to do to survive the next two seconds. As the bear lunged, he pulled the broken tree branch up, aiming the pointed end at the descending bear, allowing the other end to remain butted into the earth. The bear plunged onto the shaft, sorely wounding itself.
After it ran off roaring through the rain, Marrec crouched over Emmon. The rain turned his black hair into a sodden mass that drained rivulets of water into Marrec's face, but his hands were steady as he ripped strips of cloth from his own tunic and bandaged them around Emmon's shoulder to stem the oozing blood. Marrec's eyes burned like coals, but at that time he assumed it was pent up frustration...
Marrec saved Emmon, and both survived the punishments given them by their parents for their foolishness. When Marrec reached his sixteenth year, he took a commission with the village militia, such as it was. Though his adopted father would have preferred Marrec enter the family business, he was supportive of his son's decision. After all, Marrec was something of a natural when it came to the arts of the warrior. Though far less suited, Emmon followed Marrec's example.
CHAPTER 4
Yhe crash of metal and a gurgling roar startled Marrec from reverie. He hadn't gone more than a mile since leaving Fullpoint behind. Thrusting aside the forest growth without further regard for stealth, Marrec rushed forward several dozen feet. His dash ended as he broke out of the trees into a shaded glade.
He arrived in time to witness Gunggari slam his warclub into a rot fiend's head. The blighted creature was one of half a dozen more pustule-ridden forest folk assembled in the glade in various postures, all inimical, though a few lay unmoving near Gunggari. Glad though he was to see his friend, his eyes darted past the Oslander. Standing plain as day was a massive lion-like beast whose skin was so encrusted with fungus that it seemed a shade of green. Marrec estimated that the lion stood six feet tall at the
shoulder. The beast screamed, giving voice to the same shattering roar that Marrec had first heard. It was rooting after something caught in the bole of a large tree.
"By the Circle of Leth, you shall not have her!" called out a female voice.
A woman in warrior's garb dropped into view from above the dire beast, swinging a leaf-shaped blade. She had been hiding in the tree. Her fall was purposeful; she struck the fungal lion a nasty blow with her blade as she fell past. Her precipitous drop ended in an expert roll that not only cushioned her impact but also put her just out of range of the beast's first claw swipe. Marrec didn't know who the woman was, but she already had his respect.
Then he saw the little girl behind the tree. She had to be Hemish's foundling, Ash.
Marrec bolted forward, trying to skirt the volodnis. Gunggari would be able to deal with them. He hoped. Marrec doubted that the valorous woman would do as well against the savage beast without some help. It was his cue to act.
A bolt of black rot diverted Marrec. One of the rot fiends was tossing around potent magic. The bolt missed, striking an old tree stump. The stump immediately began to rot and molder. Marrec hoped the courageous woman could hold out a few more seconds against the beast. He first had to deal with the blighted forest creature that was versed in sorcery, and not a pleasant sort of sorcery.
He pointed his spear at the one who'd cast the enchantment his way, saying, "Leave, and we'll let you go without harm."
The one he pointed to sneered, breaking open a fluid-filled boil on its face as it did so. "It is you who should leave. We require the Horned Aspect. Lest blight take you, deliver her!"
Horned Aspect? He'd worry about that later. Too many names to match up with faces, though he wondered if the
creature referred to Ash. He decided that his job of the moment was to see that the sorcerer ate its words.
Almost of its own accord, Justlance took flight. He knew even as the shaft left his grasp that it would speed true. He had just time enough to see the sorcerer's filmy eyes widen before another volodni knocked him to his knees with a blow from behind. Where'd that little stinker come from?
He tried to spin around and back, though it was difficult on his knees. His immediate aggressor clutched an iron-headed mace. It grinned. "Too bad you had to kill Molkai," it said, gesturing to where the sorcerer volodni was pinned to a tree by Justlance. "Now I kill you, easy."
The mace-wielder had no way of knowing Marrec's secret, so when the rot fiend's triumphant charge ended suddenly on the point of Justlance, its look of surprise before it expired was absolutely justified. An instant prior to stopping the charge, Justlance left the quivering body of the nearby volodni sorcerer. His spear could never be parted from its owner for long.
Gunggari had about mopped up the last of the remaining volodnis. Marrec levered himself to his feet and looked for Ash... Ah! The child still sheltered partly behind the roots of the large tree. Ash's unknown female protector was also still in the game, rushing in to hack at the fungal lion, then dancing away just in time to avoid a lethal claw swipe. If the creature hadn't been so focused on going back for the child, Marrec wondered if the woman would have fared so well. Each time it broke off its pursuit of the woman, she slashed it again with her blade. Still, she was obviously tired, while the greened lion seemed as strong as ever despite several lines of its own blood on its sides and some quantity of the same squalid fluid the volodnis leaked.
"Let's get the cat, Gunggari!" shouted Marrec as he dashed in on the lion's flank.
The woman heard him, too. As he came up behind and
to one side of the lion and gave it a good jab with his spear, she closed on the opposite side, her leaf-shaped sword stabbing and slashing. The lion turned and swatted at him with a huge claw, green with rot, but he got out of the way. The woman got in another few telling blows, taking advantage of the creature's divided attention.
Gunggari finally showed up, his dizheri soaked and matted with evidence of its recent work. He swung it around with both hands, connecting solidly with the side of the creature's head. It yelped, blinking, and shook its head.
"It's dazed," yelled the woman. "Finish it!"
Marrec didn't need to be told twice. He and Justlance got to work. With another mighty bash from the dizheri, the lion collapsed, unmoving.
In the ensuing quiet, Marrec and Gunggari eyed the woman. Dressed in sturdy brown and green leathers, she looked like she was more than at home in the forest. Of course! Her thin build and elongated features—she was an elf, though her hair hid the most tell-tale sign.
Marrec said to her, across the length of the unmoving lion, "I am Marrec. Gunggari," he inclined his head toward the Oslander, "and I chased these monsters down. They kidnapped a child from a village they attacked." He gestured back toward the girl. "Her father will be overjoyed to discover your part in saving her. Thank you."
The elf smiled in acknowledgement but said nothing. She looked over to where Ash sheltered.
Ash had left the tree's shadow and walked tentatively up to join them. All eyes fixed on the frail girl dressed in a simple peasant dress.
The girl glanced at each of them for a second, and said, "Ash."
She looked to be between four and five years of age.
The unicorn warrior looked the child over for injuries. She seemed unscratched. Poor little tyke. He ruffled Ash's hair. The girl merely looked at him, staying silent.
No doubt she was still frightened by her recent kidnapping. He felt an instant fatherly affection for her, partly because he couldn't help identifying with her. They were both orphans, though of course he wondered if her actual origin could be as strange as his own.
"What did she say?" wondered the elf.
"Ash is her name," indicated Marrec, looking to the girl then back to the woman.
The elf figured out his unspoken question. She smiled again and raised her sword to her brow, as if a salute. "I am Elowen. I am a Nentyar hunter in service with the Circle of Leth. I've been trailing these volodnis for some time, trying to find out more about their recent incursions."
Marrec was unfamiliar with most of those names. He decided to pursue the rot fiend topic. "They look like volodnis of which I've heard, but there is something wrong with these," he said, pointing at the corpses.
"Yes," continued Elowen. "These poor creatures suffer from an infection of body and mind. When unaflicted, we call them the pine folk, too. They normally live in the Lethyr Forest, the Rawlinswood, and the forests of Rashemen. These are a fair bit south of their natural ranges."
"I've heard of volodnis but never seen them before," responded Marrec. "I've heard that they can be vengeful protectors of the forest. Perhaps the people of Ash's village somehow riled them up?"
Elowen rubbed her jaw and said, "Well, they can be antagonistic to the 'warm folk' as they call us. But I assure you, as a servant of the Nentyarch, I've dealt several times with volodnis, and none are like these. Volodnis do not normally rot as if dead but continue to draw breath. These are..."
"They are evil," finished Gunggari.
She nodded, then looked to Gunggari and back to Marrec. "If you haven't seen volodnis before, you must come from far away."
She grinned, looking again at Gunggari. "Especially you."
The Oslander offered a tiny smile back at her, said, "Far, far to the south was my home. Where I come from, everything is different. I am an explorer."
"Indeed. And you?" Her gaze was back on Marrec.
Marrec answered, "I hail from the west, where I serve the goddess Lurue. I am here because ... this child is somehow important to the goddess, though I have as yet no understanding of how that could be."
Elowen rubber her palms together. "Let us compare stories, and perhaps some pieces may come together for all of us."
"Great. Let's start with why you were trailing these creatures," said Marrec.
Elowen replied, "As I said, this rot is not something volodnis have exhibited before. As an agent of Leth, it is my job to protect the forests for the Nentyarch. If the volodnis are suffering from disease or have leagued with evil, I need to know. That's why I'm here following this particular group. Plus, I have a friend up in Two Stars who promised to help me out. She owes me."
"Whoa ... slow down," said Marrec. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Explain it to me as if I were a complete stranger to your land." He let a smile touch his lips.
"Sure. The Forest of Lethyr to the northwest of here is home to the followers of the Nentyarch. The Nentyarch is a very, very powerful druid, and he and his followers are collectively known as the Circle of Leth..."
"And the Nentyar hunters serve the Circle, right?" guessed Marrec.
"Right. I'm a hunter. We're a group made up of rangers, scouts, and warriors. We carry out the commands of the druid circle voluntarily, for the good of the forest. When we join in service, we swear to defend the great forests and do the Nentyarch's bidding."
"My goddess Lurue has often found common ground with druids," offered Marrec.
"Her name is one honored by the Circle, I've heard. What brings a servant of Lurue so far east?"
"Her silence," muttered the cleric.
Elowen waited for more.
"Something is not right with Lurue. I've been following portents, looking for a promised Child of Light who will... somehow make things right. I think Ash is the child, but now that I've found her, I'm not sure what to do next."
Gunggari said, "These evil pine men are caught up in Ash's fate and maybe Lurue's. If we discover the pine men's interest, maybe we can find out why she's important to Lurue."
"A lot of maybes," opined Marrec, "but I have nothing better to go on. Ash is not talking at the moment." He patted the mute child on the head. "We need to find out more about these blighted volodnis—these rot fiends." He looked back at Elowen.
"Agreed," said Elowen. "You are welcome to join me to see my friend in Two Stars. She is an adept of many lores, and she may know something about these volodnis. Then I must report back to the Nentyarch. It's been too long since I've gone back... but Ususi should be consulted, now that we have this new information in hand."
"Ususi is your friend?"
"Ususi Manaallin. She also hails from a place far distant from here. She came here long ago, and her knowledge of certain mystical sites of the forest is unsurpassed, even by the Nentyarch himself. She knows the Mucklestones especially well."
"Why do we care about mucklestones?" wondered Marrec."Because, these blighted volodnis I have been following issued from that ancient site just over a month ago. I witnessed their departure. Of late, I've spent much time in the vicinity of the Mucklestones..." The elf
smiled fondly as if over some personal memory. "Anyway, something evil has taken root in the Mucklestones, and of all the people I know, Ususi best knows the Mucklestones. She has made their study her work."
"Exactly where are the Mucklestones located?" asked Marrec, that time pronouncing the name with the proper gravity. The place seemed like it must be important and perhaps somehow connected to Ash, and if so, then also to Lurue.
"They are at the northeastern tip of the Forest of Le-thyr. The city of Two Stars is not too far out of the way, if the Mucklestones prove to be our eventual destination."
Marrec considered, still standing close to the child. The girl looked at him, saying nothing, and reacting not at all to the field of slain creatures around her. If Ash truly was the Child of Light, whatever the true significance of that name, and if the volodnis were after her because of it, she wouldn't be safe back in her village. She'd be safest with him, Gunggari, and perhaps with the hunter Elowen. After all, Elowen had already saved Ash once.
Marrec decided. "Gunggari, we're going to Two Stars. Ash is going with us."
"What about the peasant, Hemish?" wondered the tattooed soldier. "He will want his daughter back."
"Don't worry, we'll go back and satisfy Hemish that the girl will be safest in our care. If he truly wants what's best for the child's welfare, he'll allow her to remain with us. It may be that Ash is blessed with a secret, perhaps even the secret behind Lurue's silence."
It was decided. Elowen indicated she'd accompany him and Gunggari back to Fullpoint, being grateful for their help in slaying the evil pine folk, and hopeful that their involvement might aid her efforts in the future.
The blightlord laughed as the druid's screams bellowed forth. The druid, named Briartan, was convulsed with pain, though his strength was sufficient to keep the blightlord's awful infection at bay.
Still chuckling, the dark figure regarded Briartan where the druid was impaled, a metal stake puncturing the palm of each hand so that the druid hung against one of the sacred obelisks of the stone circle. Though a filigree of rot frosted the stone all around the druid, Briartan's body remained uninfected, if bloody.
The blightlord, named Gameliel, asked "Still resist, do you? It matters not, really. I already know everything you are trying so hard to avoid telling me." So saying, the figure extended the night black haft of its horrible weapon and gently lifted the necklace bearing the Keystone from around Briartan's head.
The druid kicked out with his leg, striking his evil tor-menter in his armored chest. "You can't have it, Gameliel."
The blightlord snarled. Gameliel lashed forward with the weapon's void-dark blade. He severed Briartan's offending leg with a single swipe.
The severed limb slid limply down the stone slab from which Briartan still dangled, pumping blood. The druid's scream ripped forth once more, echoing among the encircling stones, but dying away to nothing in the branches of the surrounding forest.
A new master ruled the Mucklestones.
<§>¦©¦ ¦&
Back in Fullpoint, Hemish proved difficult to persuade.
"Are you joking, man? Leave my daughter in your care? I thank you for returning her, but after all, you are a stranger to me and her!" yelled Hemish.
Marrec, sitting across the table from Hemish, studied the dancing flame of the single lamp hanging above the table. He and Hemish had gone back and forth for some
time, but it didn't feel like he was getting through to the man. The child Ash sat in a small chair nearby, her legs dangling above the floor, a stuffed toy languishing in her lap as she stared straight ahead at a sight only she could see.
Marrec leaned toward the peasant and said, "Listen. Can't you see that this is not a singular occurrence? If it happened once, it could happen again, and we won't be here next time to save her."
Hemish glowered and muttered, "How many times can a man's child be taken? The odds were long to begin with. Lightning doesn't strike the same place twice."
The cleric sighed, shaking his head. "True—if this were only a random occurrence. Haven't you heard a thing I've said? I believe these tree people were specially seeking Ash. They didn't succeed. That means they'll try again. And again and again until they finally get what they're after. My friends and I cannot stay here to guard here night and day—we have business in Two Stars. If you truly care for the safety of your daughter, you'd wipe the sentiment from your eyes and see the truth. Allow me to protect her. I swear I'll guard her as my own."
Hemish took one of the girl's unresponsive arms in his own. He looked into Ash's eyes, and said, "Is that all right with you, baby? Do you want to go with this man? You'll be safe. Tell me what you want."
The girl intoned, "Ash."
Hemish's eyes brimmed. He patted the girl's hand then caught Marrec's eyes with his own. "You swear on your service to your goddess that you will keep Ash safe from all harm?"
Marrec rose, drew Justlance and held it before him. He said, "I swear, upon Lurue's name, that I shall guard Ash with all my ability, keeping her safe from harm. She will be more dear to me than my own life. I so swear."
Hemish sighed. After a minute of silence he said, "Very well, cleric. I must trust you, it seems."
Marrec reached out and clasped Hemish's hand. He said, "You are making the right choice. Don't worry."
Really, there could be no other outcome.
They spent the night in Fullpoint. In the morning, Marrec, Gunggari, Elowen, and Ash departed. Much of the village was gathered to see off the heroes who had defended the town from the "raiding tree people." Many did not understand why Ash was departing, too. Few seemed unduly upset by it save, of course, for a tearful Hemish.
When all the goodbyes were said, they headed out. Elowen led the group northeast. Their destination was Two Stars. Marrec's single hope was that Elowen's friend might shed light on the question of Ash's identity. What was the significance of the Child of Light, and how had the volodnis fallen into the clasp of evil?
¦©¦ ¦©¦
Joining the militia seemed to be one of the best moves of Marrec's young life. He reveled in the weapon drills, the warrior's training, and the endless mock duels with the other young men of the village with similar hearts.
Not so Emmon. Though quick enough with his wits, Marrec's step-brother wasn't too swift when it came to arms and armor. The drilling required of all those in the militia made little dent in Emmon's inability to properly wield a sword. Emmon and Marrec were thick; Marrec helped Emmon perfect his skills, while Emmon was happy just to be around Marrec. They were friends.
When not training in the militia, Marrec and Emmon enjoyed taking short walks outside of the village, to the edges of the forest and sometimes past. The two boys made a contest of who would be the first to sight some small game animal, tree, or other interesting feature of the Wild. They had a favorite haunt near the edge of the river, where a small cave provided the perfect hide-out
from adults and the responsibilities expected of those coming of age.
The raids started around that time.
Horrible creatures out of the wild found the village, and for reasons of their own, they decided it would make an ideal target of terrorism and piracy. The raiders were a tribe of brutish, manlike ogres who called themselves the Durang, after their leader. Not interested in concessions, the Durang launched a career of attacks on the town. At first just outlying farms were hit, but it was clear that the Durang were intent on striking to the very heart of the village, and soon.
So it was time for the militia to do the job it had trained for. Defend the village. Marrec looked forward to the coming encounter with a strange, tight feeling in his stomach. He looked forward to being tested in actual battle, yet he was nervous. He didn't let that show to his comrades, who were all outwardly afraid. Emmon put on a brave face, but Marrec knew his brother well enough to know that on the inside, Emmon was just this side of fleeing for all he was worth.
The crash on the hastily-constructed palisade wall signaled that the time for wondering was past. It was time to fight.
Another crash, and the Durang were through. Some of his fellow militiamen were stunned, thinking that the barrier should have lasted longer. No time for that. Yellow-skinned brutes with thick, warty skin boiled in through the breach. Marrec was among the few brave enough to meet the initial onslaught. He had chosen a spear, which he judged he could use more profitably against the eight-foot-tall Durang. Plus, ever since the incident with bear in the woods, Marrec simply preferred the spear.
A particularly ill-kempt brute with greasy hair charged him, brandishing a great club of splintered wood. Marrec felt fear melt away before the immediacy
of his predicament. Fear would only get in the way of the actions he must take in order to survive.
He ducked under the monster's first swing, jumped up instantly and drove his spear into the Durang's temple. Just like that, the creature was vanquished. Marrec yelled in jubilation, wrenching his spear free from the carcass.
"Who's next? he wondered.
Things weren't going nearly so well for the rest of the militiamen. Even one Durang was a match for two or three humans, and there were at least eight ogres by Marrec's count. Over to his left, the drillmaster Rimmard stood his ground well enough, but everywhere else the Durang encroached. Not a single militiaman was uninjured, except for himself and maybe Rimmard.
His eyes found Emmon. His half-brother lay twisted, unmoving, his broken sword several feet from his splayed grip. "Emmon?'' Marrec rushed to the body of his stepbrother.
Emmon was dead.
Rage took Marrec. The boy felt his own humanity splinter and fall away, as if it were snake skin. His eyes had started burning the moment the attack began. Seeing his dead brother, it felt as if the very orbs were afire. Marrec screamed, clutching his head with both hands. His head felt molten, and his eyes brimmed with the blaze inside.
Why not let the anger out? something whispered. Why not?
Marrec allowed his hands to fall away from his head. Despite the pain, his gaze was infused with a deadly clarity. As if burrowing a channel in the air with his gaze, he unleashed the fury within at the ogre nearest the fallen body of Emmon, but the ogre was not burned.
It was turned to stone.
A great hush extended from the first unmoving ogre, growing in radius like a rock dimples a pond, ever-widening as defenders and ogres alike paused to see
what had occurred. A long sigh was heard, or maybe it was a collective gasp of fear from villagers and attackers, as startled eyes alighted on Marrec then flinched quickly away.
Then the remaining raiders were running, running from his invincible gaze. He cared not. He was in a swoon of anger and loss.
Emmon still lay dead at Marrec's feet. His gaze was spent, and the fury subsided to a dull ache deep within his head. All was silent. Villager gazes continued to scatter away from him like water on a hot skillet, afraid to commit. A murmur of astonishment grew, but more than just astonishment, there was also fear. Fear of him. The freak. The monster.
So he was. The bitter truth was apparent to all. The townspeople wanted nothing more to do with him, despite his victory over the Durang. His blood was tainted with an unknown but likely devilish power, he was told. He was outcast, even by his own family.
So it was that Marrec fled into the Wild.
CHAPTER 5
Yhey sought the city of Two Stars, Elowen in the lead, the rest following after.
Marrec tried to carry Ash piggy-back, but she seemed more comfortable walking, so their pace in the lightly forested country was measured to the pace of a young child. Marrec knew that would have to change, but he was willing to allow the child her head for the moment. Perhaps later they could purchase a small horse or pony for the girl to ride upon.
Elowen was familiar with the country and could get them back on the road called the Golden Way without backtracking along the path Marrec and Gunggari had used to reach Fullpoint. Marrec knew little of the land, but he was learning more with each day. He did know that the city of Two Stars girdled the Golden Way and was an important city in the land of
Thesk, which was the ungainly name of that far land where Marrec found himself.
Marrec reflected back on his journey since he'd reached the eastern shore of the Sea of Fallen Stars. He and Gunggari had first disembarked in the city of Telflamm after their passage east across the Sea. Telf lamm was the founding city of the Golden Way. For thousands of miles the great trade road wended eastward, eventually joining Faeriin to the fabulous lands of Kara-Tur, Marrec was assured. Along the road lay the merchant towns that comprised the realm of Thesk, the crossroads of the Unapproachable East. All that was revealed to Marrec upon landfall, but he wasn't sure he believed much of what was told him in the thief-ruled city of Telflamm. At the time, he just wanted to find Fullpoint, though he did recall seeing a map showing Two Stars situated not much farther along the great trade road.
While on the great trade road, they'd passed through countless smaller villages, and three larger cities, Phent, Phsant, and Tammar. The towns of Phent and Tammar had offered no trouble, but in Phsant their ignorance of local custom had caused a few problems. Somehow—Marrec wasn't sure exactly how—Gunggari had earned the displeasure' of someone called the Golden Master. Marrec didn't really worry about it until they discovered hundreds of soldiers loyal to the Golden Master mustered against them as they attempted to exit the city from the strangely named Shou quarter. They'd barely escaped. One thing was sure—he and Gunggari wouldn't be going back through Phsant if they could help it.
Marrec hoped Two Stars wasn't all that far from Full-point. Surely it would be a quick journey, at least after he made some sort of arrangement for Ash's transportation.
Perhaps he should consult with their guide.
"Elowen?" called Marrec from the rear. He was making certain that Ash walked ahead of him, never
allowing the girl out of his sight. "How far to Two Stars did you say?"
Elowen paused in her conversation with Gunggari, looking back. Marrec was glad to see those two seemed to be getting along. "No more than a couple of days, Marrec; it's about sixty miles. Not to worry. This foliage gives way to grassland soon enough. If we were traveling through a real forest, like the Lethyr or Rawlinswood, you'd know it."
Marrec nodded, satisfied.
Elowen walked, excited at her chance meeting in the wood. Her senses were attuned to the wildlife of leaf and bough, but more than others of her order, she enjoyed conversation. Sadly, the creatures and plants in her care were mostly unskilled in that area. These strangers had many stories to tell and offered the chance for conversations many and long.
More importantly, the strangers were concerned with the troubles of the wood, just like her. They seemed specifically concerned about the troubles caused by these rot-touched volodnis, as was she. She feared that where blight moved so fearlessly, only one possible agency could be responsible... but she had to be sure before she reported back to the Circle. That was a conversation she did not relish. She had stayed away far too long—and the longer she stayed away, the more difficult it had become each day to set her feet back toward her fellows. After all, she had been pursuing her mission, however delayed it had become.
"The trees are yours to guard?" asked Gunggari, who walked beside her on the road to Two Stars.
"Not quite," responded Elowen. "Nentyar hunters, such as myself, are. few. We don't patrol specific areas. Rather, we are free to wander widely, trusting our own judgment,
but yes, we confront all who seek to harm the forest."
Gunggari fell quiet, apparently satisfied.
The southlander was a puzzle to Elowen, but an interesting puzzle. She'd never seen anybody like him. A human, to be sure, but one with customs unlike she'd ever come upon before then. He intrigued her. She hoped they would accompany her back to the Mucklestones. Her friend Briartan would love to meet someone from so far abroad.
"What about you?" Elowen asked the tattooed soldier. "What is the significance of all those marks on your body? They seem too exquisite to be mere decoration."
Gunggari considered a moment, then said, "In Osse, in the land where my mother bore me, these tattoos speak of my strength, skill, and dedication to alcheringa."
Elowen looked at Gunggari, waiting for him to continue.
"Alcheringa is the philosophy of my people. I walk that path. These marks on my body are totems, each telling of an ancestral hero of my people. I call on them for aid when I am in need. That is alcheringa".
"Who's this one?" Elowen impudently pointed at a vaguely human tattoo on Gunggari's chest. "He's got a warclub like yours."
"Tumbarum. He is the spirit of music. He plays the dizheri. Like so."
Gunggari hefted his hollow war club, upon which were painted elaborate designs in bright colors, and began to blow through one end. A sound, as of thunder, or a rushing river, reverberated through the air. Startled, a nearby flock of birds gave flight. The sound was unlike anything she had ever heard. Gunggari continued to blow. The thought occurred to her that it was music of a sort the elves had never mastered, something she could scarcely credit. His warclub was a musical instrument. Truly a marvel.
After a time, Gunggari finished. Elowen said, "You
are a master musician, Gunggari. Among my people, you would be accorded much honor for that alone."
The Oslander stowed his instrument and nodded, taking her at her word, without humility or arrogance. Gunggari was simply a man who knew his worth.
He said, "You have made my friend Marrec very happy, appearing when you did, saving the child. He has long sought that child; you have made a friend of him and me." So saying, Gunggari clapped her on the shoulder.
Such familiarity between herself and strangers was uncommon, and normally she would resent such contact, but she was surprised to find that, coming from the strange man from the south with his strange customs, she didn't mind.
¦&
A pony named Henri was procured for Ash in the village of Culdorn that evening. The group had covered just fifteen miles, but they did reach the great trade road, the Golden Way. They put up that night in the Culdorn Inn. Ash was completely taken with Henri; she was far more interested in the little horse than with her companions. The girl tried to sleep with the pony in the stable instead of the room they arranged for her and Elowen to share. That was, by far, the most emotion the child had yet generated for anything, and Marrec was pleased. Perhaps the mount would prove a bridge by which Ash could be reached.
The next day the four traveled swiftly down the Golden Way. Henri was amenable to the pace set. Elowen and Gunggari were used to traveling light and quickly, but Marrec, too, could move fast when necessary. Before the sun dipped down on their flank, sending their shadows ahead like dusky fingers, they covered a full thirty miles. Elowen indicated they had only a half day's travel to look forward to the next day.
They made camp alongside the road that night. Elowen got a fire going with Gunggari's aid in scavenging suitable brush and dead branches. Tiny sparks drifted up from the fire, blending with the stars above. Gunggari told a story drawn from the mythology of his people, as he sometimes did, but only with much cajoling from Marrec. That night, he launched into the telling on his own initiative. It was a story about rain.
CHAPTER 6
Rain woke Marrec in the gray light of dawn. Clouds scrolled across the sky, brushing water in great grey arcs across the soggy landscape. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the water from his hair, then stood to check on Ash. They'd rigged a simple lean-to for the girl, which had kept out most of the rain. She still slept under its protection, curled up in her blanket. Henri stood protectively nearby, his coat damp and curled. Marrec could smell the beast's damp fur—distinctive, but not unpleasant.
Elowen and Gunggari were up, too, striking camp. Despite the gloom rain normally evoked in Marrec, he was excited to be up and on his way. Two Stars was close.
The countryside was as pleasant an example of Faerun countryside as Marrec had ever seen. Perhaps it was the rain, but the pastures had
a radiant greenness, like stained-glass windows. There were a few tall pine trees, and larger, uncut copses, that served as reminders that once a much greater forest existed thereabout. In places, cream-colored stone was visible rising out of the soil. The forest had given way to crops and pastures.
Later, the rain dried up, though the countryside remained clammy and misty. Elowen was good at her word, and before noon they spied the gates of Two Stars. The Golden Way passed into the city, then along the great curve of the city's inner wall. It appeared as if much of the road within the city was a great trade bazaar. Within the gates he spied many buildings, some temples, and one large castle. At one point, the Golden Way appeared to veer away from the city wall and actually pass through the gates of the castle and out the other side. Within the gates of the castle, the trade route bisected another large road. Marrec thought that it might be the Cold Road, if his memory of maps he had studied was accurate.
"Who holds the castle?" asked Gunggari.
Elowen answered, "That's Gallidy Castle. Lady Yolatir Gallidy is the latest to govern Two Stars. She's not especially heavy handed, and lets the trade flow pretty much unhindered. As you can guess, she's a favorite of the guilds."
"Two Stars. That's a nice name," said Marrec, as they continued to move toward the city.
"I believe it is named for the stars of the east and west that 'meet' in the heavens overhead. A good omen for trade, they say."
Marrec nodded, and they headed into town. The influx of those entering Two Stars was checked by toll collectors. Apparently their lack of a trade wagon made the group exempt from tax, and they were waved through.
"Let's go see your friend straightaway," said Marrec. "We can find an inn later."
Elowen nodded and started down the Golden Way.
It was bustling with carts, temporary and permanent storefronts, and the conversation of what seemed like thousands of people buying and selling all manner of things. The assortment of people was no less strange. Marrec guessed that he saw at least thirty different races, including a few gnolls, giants, and ores in fine cloth, which was a racial mixture he rarely if ever encountered in the west.
The amount of space given over to trade was really quite impressive. The larger side avenues were lined with tents of jugglers, puppeteers, dancing girls, hammer-throwers, fire-swallowers, and hedge wizards of every stripe. But along the main trade road was where the real merchandise could be found. There were tables, stalls, and the cleverly fashioned unfolding wagons of merchants who'd lugged their goods from all corners of Faeriin. Cattle, food, timber, iron, oysters, wool, gem-stones, parchment and inks, glass, weaponry, charms of real power, and a host of additional items too many to take note of were bought and sold. The constant scream of conversation in dozens of languages, but mostly variously accented Common, was almost oppressive.
The crowds made their walk a slow one, as they did their best to ignore the cries and promises of the merchants on either side. Finally, Elowen found a side-street that was apparently not part of the trade road, for only a few people walked along the muddy-track. The buildings on either side seemed more given to warehousing than retailing.
Gunggari breathed a slight sigh of relief. Marrec knew the Oslander hated crowds. On the other hand, Ash seemed oblivious as she happily rode on the back of her pony. Marrec had been a little apprehensive that the child would react poorly to such a press of strangers.
Before too long they reached a tenement district. Children played in the narrow streets, knocking a wooden ball back and forth with a stout club. Elowen got her
bearings, then made her way down a tight alley, which opened into an unkempt grassy courtyard that hid behind the backs of four buildings.
The top of a dome-shaped structure protruded from the ground at courtyard's center, rising no more than waist-high. Small holes pocked the surface of the dome, each punching a shaft down into darkness. Near the dome, broad stone stairs plunged down nine steep steps to a door. Marrec realized that the door probably allowed access to the interior of the buried structure. He surmised it was the home or lab of Elowen's friend, Ususi.
Marrec lifted Ash off Henri's back.
"Wait here, why don't you?" he muttered to Henri as he hobbled the pony.
Elowen led the way down the steps to the door. She put her hand to the knocker, striking three times, paused, then two more, a final pause, then a single loud rap. She glanced back and said, "That's to let Ususi know it's me."
"Nice," Marrec commented with the hint of a grin.
After a wait of just under half minute, a woman appeared at the door. She almost smiled when she saw the elf hunter. "Elowen. I wondered what had become of you." She glanced at Marrec, Gunggari, and Ash. What might have been a smile froze into a less welcoming expression. "And I see you've brought friends." The woman had a noticeable accent, but one Marrec couldn't place.
More striking than her accent was the woman's skin, which was a pale, stony color, complete with what almost seemed to be mineral veins running through it. Her hair and eyes were coal black, though the hint of her initial smile had been almost inviting. She wore a greatcoat inlaid with arcane symbols. A surprisingly large book was attached to her belt on her left side—Marrec had seen other wizards carry tomes of penned spells in a similar manner, and on her right, a small wand pouch dyed bright yellow.
Inside, the domed ceiling proved to be pockmarked
with skylights—those were the holes they'd seen in the dome from the surface. The light wasn't allowed down into the chamber unimpeded. A host of strange objects, dangled from the curved ceiling, all at slightly different heights. Various lamps, roots of assorted bulbous shape, sheaves of aromatic grasses, stuffed animals (mostly birds), and other less identifiable pieces wereon display. By far the most prominent hanging items were minerals and crystals of every sort.
On the floor level, squat bookshelves overflowed with tomes on all sides, while a great desk in the very center of the chamber contained piles of books, scrolls, and sheaves of unbound paper. Ususi was obviously very scholarly, if an avid collector of strange hangings.
"Come in. I will make tea, as you showed me, Elowen." Ususi retreated, sighing, and began to finger through various herbs hanging above their heads.
"You taught her to make tea?" Marrec quietly asked Elowen as they pulled chairs from one wall. Marrec picked up Ash and put her on one knee.
"Yes."
He'd hoped Elowen might elaborate. He wondered about Ususi's background. The woman's skin-tone indicated a place of origin even farther away than Gunggari, possibly.
"Now then," continued Ususi, as she found a mortar and pestle from a rear shelf, apparently to grind the leaves she had selected, "Please tell me the purpose of such a large gathering in my dwelling. Who is the child?"
Ash sat staring up at the throng of suspended items. Her expression remained unchanged as she made a single comment. "Ash."
"She does that," explained Marrec. "That's all she does. I mean, that's all she ever says." Unaccountably, he felt a bit tongue-tied talking to Ususi. Must be those night black eyes. Her eyes were dark, like twin wells with un-plumbed depths.
Ususi raised an eyebrow as if to ask, 'and so?'
When the cleric didn't respond immediately, Elowen said, "She's the reason we're here, Ususi. At least, she's part of the reason. I'm afraid we are also here because of the Mucklestones."
At that, Ususi paused as she was about to pour the crushed leaves into seeping spoons. She looked concerned, but waited for Elowen to continue.
Elowen obliged, "Corruption is abroad. I've been tracking a group of blighted volodnis for over a month, south and east out of the Forest of Lethyr. We have determined that the volodnis were searching for this girl, Ash." The elf pointed to the child.
"Blighted volodnis?" wondered Ususi.
"I call them rot fiends," offered Marrec helpfully.
"Yes—blighted in a way that I do not fully understand," Elowen continued. The elf bit her lip as if keeping something back. "In any event, I knew you would want to know, because they emerged from the Mucklestones."
"By the Hidden Delve," exclaimed Ususi. "I knew it. I've been trying to access the portal stones for tendays, unsuccessfully." Before Marrec could ask what she meant, Ususi continued, "It's all interference, on every theurgic channel I am able to probe. Nor could I contact Briartan, the keeper of the stones. One other name keeps popping up, though, through the interference: Gameliel. That name means nothing to me, but..."
The hunter balled her fists.
Marrec asked, "Who is Gameliel?"
Elowen took a breath, said, "Gameliel is a blightlord, a being of terrible, corrupt power." Her eyes grew flinty. "If a blightlord is in the Forest of Lethyr, he must be rooted out. The corruption of the volodnis I followed must have been his doing. His doing, or his masters'."
Marrec turned the words over in his mind, looking for a connection with Lurue or Ash. He came up blank. He said "I'm as much in the dark as ever. Why is this Gameliel
seeking Ash?" The problem, he decided, was that he still couldn't come up with a connection even between Ash and Lurue. Until he figured out that bond, he would likely continue to be at sea.
Ususi mused, "Why indeed? More information is required. Elowen, tell us more about this blightlord, and this master of which you speak. If we bring all the facts to the surface, perhaps connections can be made."
"Gameliel is but one of three currently active blight-lords. Each is powerful in his or her own right, but all serve a still greater master. I've been afraid Gameliel was active beyond the Rawlinswood, but I had no proof until now. The other two blightlords are called Anammelech and Damanda. The blightlords all serve a single master: the Rotting Man, also called the Talontyr."
Ash, silent for so long, drew in her breath, as if in response to the last name.
All eyes found the child.
Ash was gazing at the hanging items, apparently without a care in the world, or cognizance of anything other than hanging roots, grasses, and bulbs.
When it was apparent that no further response was forthcoming from Ash, Elowen continued, "The Rotting Man is more aspect than mortal, but he is an aspect of decay. He is one of the Circle of Lethe's most potent and long standing enemies. If the Rotting Man's servant, Gameliel, is abroad in Lethyr, I must find and stop him. Even if I should succeed in that task, I must report back to the Nentyarch himself, who must be warned of the Rotting Man's newest embassy. He already holds most of Rawlinswood—he can't be allowed to infect the Forest of Lethyr."
"What are these Mucklestones? Why would Gameliel desire their control?" interjected Gunggari.
"They are ancient and potent," responded Ususi. "Though not all their powers are understood by any one person, save possibly for Briartan, one thing is certain: they serve as magical portals, allowing access
to and from distant places across, and under, Faerun." By the significant tone in her voice, Marrec wondered if the strange woman knew more than she was saying concerning the Mucklestones, but he didn't press the woman.
"Gameliel would want them for the same reason anyone might—in order to quickly transport himself, or his forces, without the need to physically travel the distance in between," said Elowen.
All were quiet for a time, considering.
Ususi poured hot tea into dainty blue stone cups and offered them to each traveler, except for Ash.
Marrec took a sip. Interesting. Something like a cross between citrus and cinnamon. He felt some of his travel-induced weariness melt from him.
"Thank you," said Gunggari, also enjoying his tea.
Elowen merely sipped and smiled, evidently familiar with the revitalizing effects of Ususi's brew. For the moment, she was content watching the steam from her cup rise in simple loops and ribbons.
Ususi observed, "What about this child? I don't understand her role—why is she here? And the rest of you?" She pointed to Marrec and Gunggari. The woman seemed impatient, as if lack of understanding was a position unfamiliar to her.
Marrec's stomach sank. He realized then that Ususi knew nothing of Ash.
Marrec sighed, "None of us understand her role. My friend Gunggari and I are here because of her, and her apparent connection to these Mucklestones. All I know is that she is somehow important to my goddess Lurue."
Marrec launched into the story, telling Ususi about the goddess' growing silence over recent years, and the signs that finally led him to Ash, supposedly as an answer to these troubles.
When Marrec finished, Ususi frowned, sipped her tea, and offered no immediate response.
"Well?" asked Marrec, a little impatient in his own right.
"Your goddess is unfamiliar to me... she has not been one of my areas of study, but," Ususi raised her hands, forestalling Marrec's frustrated sigh, "I do have a strong feeling about this. Unless my eldritch intuition is astray, Briartan of the Mucklestones can provide you some answers to your questions."
Elowen nodded, saying, "There is little knowledge that Briartan does not gather to himself."
The unicorn warrior settled back, looking again at Ash. He had hoped to return Ash to her father after the Two Stars trip, but that was not to be, at least not immediately. The cleric would have to take the only other option available. He'd have to travel to the Mucklestones and confront mysterious Gameliel and demand an answer.
Marrec declared, "Then I'm going to the Mucklestones. If Briartan can't aid me, perhaps Gameliel can answer my questions." Gunggari nodded.
Elowen added, "You can question him, but do it quickly. I am sworn to destroy Gameliel. Unless you object, I'd like to continue accompanying you."
"I would welcome your company and sword arm," responded Marrec.
"The Mucklestones are my specialty," interrupted Ususi. "I will come, too. I must learn why the portal stones are blocked."
"It won't be safe," said Marrec. Despite her exotic beauty, Marrec was unsure if adding this acerbic woman to their group was a good choice.
"I possess a power of my own, which Gameliel may learn, to his misfortune."
Marrec nodded his acquiescence, sighing. He couldn't say no to the potential aid of a wizard. He wondered if perhaps her presence was actually fortuitous, something Lurue had foreseen? Perhaps he would find his answer in the Forest of Lethyr.
Day kindled, and the travelers were already up and out of Two Stars, eager for an early start. Morning peeked over the shoulders of the darkened countryside. Before them, the land was quiet and in the pre-dawn light formless and gray, but even as they watched, night's fingers pulled back and colors began to bleed back into the world: the lighter greens of the fields, the darker-hued forests far off, the blue gradations of the sky with a fleecing of white clouds, and the coffee-brown of the road that stretched ahead.
"We can follow the Cold Road for a few miles," said Elowen. "After that, I know of a trail we can take that'll shave days off our trip. Eventually, we'll intersect the northeastern end of the Lethyr Forest. I expect six or seven days to travel so many miles, even with the mounts."
She looked back, seeing Marrec and Ususi
each astride a horse and Ash on her pony, Henri. Gunggari brought up the rear. Like her, the Oslander preferred traveling on his own two feet. Despite that preference, she knew Marrec was right in procuring mounts for everyone. Horseback was the only way to travel the distance in any reasonable amount of time, especially with Ususi along. While Ususi controlled potent magic, she apparently didn't like to squander them on anything as mundane as transportation. The wizard seemed a bit put out because her magical portal to the Mucklestones was blocked. Likely Ususi had been considering a trip to investigate even before Marrec made an appearance with Ash, Gunggari, and herself in tow. For Ususi, Marrec's appearance must seem a happy coincidence.
The Cold Road was in good repair, at least so close to Two Stars. The road ran straight and wide through low grasslands, but further on she could see the road passed through deep groves of conifer. Farms and small communities were visible in the distance, as the sun continued to ascend along its daily track. Elowen had not taken the trail she intended for their group in thirteen years, but her memory was certain. Past the next long rise, she would break left off the road.
Behind her, she could hear Marrec quizzing Ususi. She smiled. Ususi wasn't particularly forthcoming about her origins. Elowen had known the woman for several years, and only in the last few had she discovered the secret Ususi wanted kept quiet. After all, most surface dwellers reacted poorly when they learned that they were in the presence of someone hailing from the Underdark.
Obviously Ususi wasn't drow or some even worse abomination birthed in the world below the sun. In fact, she presumed Ususi was more closely related to Marrec than herself, with her elven blood. Ususi claimed to be a member of a human sub-race thought extinct on the surface, but who instead had sealed themselves into an hidden enclave in the deepest portion of the Underdark
that they could penetrate. Apparently a race of wizards, the refugees had sealed all knowledge of their presence behind impenetrable walls of force and illusion. Only recently, after thousands of years, Ususi claimed, had those walls begun to fail. Ususi was one of the first of her race in generations to leave the enclave. Ususi claimed to be a descendent of the Imaskar empire.
The name meant nothing to Elowen.
Elowen was merely glad Ususi had finally developed enough trust in their friendship to reveal so much about her past. The Imaskari still feared whatever drove her ancestors into hiding, but Elowen doubted that the threat still existed, whatever it was; Ususi would not name it.
Marrec had a long road to travel if he thought he was going to get any information out of the wizard on such short notice, mused Elowen. He'd have to put in his time, as Elowen had. Soon enough, the man realized the same thing and allowed Ususi to move ahead of his own mount. Marrec's eyes began to focus on places other than the road ahead. Worrying about his goddess Lurue, she guessed.
<&¦•©¦
When young Marrec fled his adoptive village into the wild, he had no clear destination. At first, getting away was his only concern. He reviled himself, still hurting from the insults and jeers heaped on him as he fled. Fear drove the villagers to act out. Confused and uncomprehending of what his mere gaze had accomplished, Marrec believed those taunts.
Though he sought solace in the wilderness, he fled without preparation. He brought only a spear, clutched to him with determination, and with some thought of using it hunt. That first night, rain poured from a dank sky. Cold to the bone and wet, the best shelter Marrec could find was beneath a stout tree branch.
Things might have gone the worse for him then, but as
fate or chance had it, Thanial Selwander found him.
Thanial was known to Marrec and others of his village as the secretive "Man in the Wood." He appeared in town once every few years, and Marrec had only seen the man a few times and at a distance. His brother Emmon had many stories to tell of the Man in the Wood, usually involving Thanial hunting and slaying some strange new forest beast.
Surprisingly, Thanial seemed to recognize him, saying, "Marrec. So you've decided to leave the village, eh? Things out here can be a little difficult for a novice woodsman. Why don't you stick with me, and I'll show what you need to know."
Marrec was astounded at Thanial's casual greeting, but he was happy to accept aid. His hunger was nearly as great as the chill in his extremities, and moreover, kindness seemed an unlooked for gift. He decided to put off telling Thanial about his devil-born ability for a while.
Thanial bade Marrec to live with him in his home in a wooded and sheltered valley between two sharp peaks. The woodman's home was a well-constructed log house, filled with rough amenities, including a great stone fireplace and a dry, flagged floor. A stream flowed down from one peak and on through the valley, its path not more than a few feet from the house. It offered clear water for drinking, cooking, and baking, and fish could be caught from it, great mountain trout usually, but sometimes salmon if the season was right.
The first night, Marrec slept on the flagged stones on a mattress of furs, staring into the warming fire. Thanial had a great black wolf called Shira who seemed a companion than pet. Shira lay near Marrec that night, her great muzzle protruding out like a ship's prow, sniffing Marrec suspiciously. Thanial stepped into the next room to prepare a meal, but Marrec fell fast asleep, and woke with the sun and birdsong the next day.
Thanial walked in with the sun and said, "Awake at
last, eh? Good. It's time I gave you some real training, something to go on if you ever find yourself lost in the woods again. You may be good with that spear, but it won't help your hunger if you can't track a deer or bring down a bird."
So Marrec stayed with Thanial. Somehow, Thanial seemed to know him and know things about him. That mystified Marrec, but since Thanial continued on in that manner, Marrec accepted it.
Six months passed. Every day, Thanial roused him from sleep just as morning's pink light stole into the forest. There was too much to do to sleep any later. Thanial shared with Marrec a world of wonder, opportunity, and knowledge. He trained Marrec to see the web of connections that comprised nature. From the dew to the spider webs it collected upon, to the birds that preyed on the spiders, to the quickest cougars that brought down those birds, and finally to life's end, which claimed all creatures weak and strong, Marrec began to develop a deep understanding of the links between all living things.
Thanial was a self-proclaimed wild ranger but also a devout adherent of she who Thanial called the Queen of the Forest. So Thanial was schooled in forest craft and also in the mysteries of Thanial's Queen, called Lurue. According to Thanial, knowledge of the first was also knowledge of the second.
Marrec proved an apt pupil. The more he learned, the more he realized that the spirit of Lurue was something he could love and cherish. Not only was she the goddess of the animals but also a free spirit of adventure and happiness. She was a guide for those who wished for no home but the wild. At that time, he decided that he would devote himself to the goddess, and serve her needs in the world.
One morning Thanial woke him with a strangely serious air.
"What is it?" Marrec asked.
"It's time I showed you something. I wasn't going to, but I've changed my mind. I think you're old enough." Thanial had a leather satchel in his hands, worn and obviously very old.
It wouldn't be out of character for Thanial to lure Marrec into a false sense of alarm, only to laugh uproariously when the true situation, usually somehow comedic, became apparent. Marrec ruefully shook his head and smiled. "All right, lay it on me Thanial."
Thanial laid the satchel down across the great table he and Marrec had built from lengths of pine. As serious as a stone, he undid the old leather ties then carefully removed from it an object: A glazed stone bulb the size of a fist from which a short stone handle stretched. Tassels with small charms and beads were tied to the handle. As Thanial removed from the object from the satchel, it rattled. It was a child's rattle.
Marrec's face flushed, and his eyes grew wide. He knew that rattle. It was his, from his earliest childhood.
"Where...?"
"You had it clutched in your hand when I found you," explained Thanial gently. "It was I who found you, a child in the forest, sixteen years ago almost. It was I who asked the cobbler to take you in to make a home for the orphan I found lying all alone in the woods."
"You found me?" Marrec didn't know where to start. "But where? Why? I don't understand."
"Your adoptive father thought it best to indicate that it had been he who found you, not I. That's all."
Marrec swallowed, but he could see that Thanial had more to say. "What else?"
"When I found you... you were not exactly as you appear now. Oh, from a distance you seemed a human child of nearly two years, crying, red faced, clutching your rattle, but when I bent to retrieve you from the forest floor, I saw something I didn't want to believe. I thought at first it was a parasite, but I was wrong. Curling up
through your black hair were tiny... serpents. They were rooted, as if hair, in your head."
Marrec heard a rushing noise in his ears. He stared at Thanial, uncomprehending.
Thanial continued, "I took my blade and severed them. I didn't think twice. I cut them out by their roots. They didn't grow back. You didn't seem to miss them. In fact, you acted like any toddler would act, though at first I feared otherwise; I feared some monstrous influence. But no, at least one of your parents was obviously human. You were perfectly harmless. I kept you for a time, but I knew I couldn't raise you right. I gave you up to the village. I gave you up so you could have a real family."
Still Marrec couldn't utter a word. As he did unconsciously every day of his life, he raised a hand to his brow and with his fingers probed above his hairline for the hidden scars.
The edge of the main forest was dark and close. Clouds tumbled across the sky, gray and vast, and from their bellies they unleashed yet another downpour.
Forest leaves caught the falling rain, deflecting it from its original goal of the moist earth, but only temporarily. Tiny trickles of water collected and ran down the columns of conifer, pine, and the occasional grove of silver aspen, green with spring growth. The Forest of Lethyr sheltered trees of many sorts within its confines, but all were glad, in their own way, to feel the rain on their boughs.
Five riders, one no more than a child, entered the eaves of the forest, eager to gain some protection from the sudden spring rain. The group hailed from Two Stars, having crossed the intervening distance in just a little more than a tenday.
The elven woman in the lead raised a hand and called for a pause. She said, "We've entered Lethyr." She slipped easily from her saddle to stand on the rain-soaked ground.
"Elowen, how far now to the Mucklestones?" asked the dark haired woman in wizardly attire. "Though I've journeyed there several times, this will be the first time I've done so by taking every jarring step in between." The dark haired woman sighed, rubbing the small of her back.
Marrec swung down from his horse. He studied the forest floor. He was acquainted with many forests in the west, but he was unfamiliar with that one.
He asked Elowen, "Anything we should watch out for, aside from rotting volodnis?"
Elowen said, "Certainly. This is a wild forest, and dangerous creatures roam below its dark canopy. Of course, most are goodly creatures that bear us no ill will. If we're lucky, we might meet a treant. I know a few in this part of Lethyr."
"Treants?" asked Gunggari. Gunggari was clothed more in tattoos than cloth, and the chill rain threatened to raise goosebumps on his skin. He took advantage of the pause to dismount.
"Great stewards of the forest. Nentyar hunters like myself sometimes work hand in hand with these great treeish creatures to protect the woods from threat."
"I hope their 'treeishness' doesn't make them susceptible to the same sort of controlling rot as the volodnis we've faced," commented Marrec.
He walked over to Ash on her pony, checking her saddle. The horse and child had weathered the trip amazingly well, without soreness, hurt, or abraded skin. He suspected the girl's healing ability had been at work. Reminded of that, he mentally sought out his own remaining powers as a tongue seeks the space formerly occupied by a recently pulled tooth. His powers had diminished, and without
contact with Lurue, he couldn't replace the powers he used up. During their trip across the plain, his feeling of connection with Lurue had grown more tenuous than ever. He prayed for the thousandth time that he was on the right path, and that the girlr held the answer to Lurue's silence.
Marrec toweled the girl's hair dry with the hem of his cloak. The child briefly fixed him with her dull gaze. "Ash," she commented.
Elowen walked back to join him, as did Gunggari. Ususi on her horse was already close. They had an impromptu conference beneath the weepy canopy.
The elf hunter said, "I've brought us in just to the south of a human settlement on the forest edge. I think we're far enough from their loggers," she sniffed. "Likewise, all the wood elves who inhabit Lethyr are clustered further to the west and south of here, so we'll likely avoid having to explain our presence to them. Really, it's a straight shot through the treess"
"How far?" repeated Ususi, a somewhat testy tone to her voice.
"With a clear route and no trouble, it'd be no more than a day's travel, but of course wending through the trees will slow us. I estimate we'll reach the Mucklestones tomorrow evening."
Ususi shook her head and said, "Not soon enough for me. Even one more-night of 'camping' is more than I can handle."
Gunggari grinned at the mage's words but said nothing. Marrec forbade comment, too, realizing that for the city woman, stone-like skin or not, their trip must have been hard to endure.
"What?" Gunggari snapped, stepping back and looking intently up into the leafy foliage ahead and above them. The Oslander had pulled out his dizheri just as quickly.
The others all reacted with alarm, peering ahead and grabbing up their weapons.
"What's going on?" demanded Ususi.
Marrec strained his eyes but saw nothing unusual amidst the dripping leaves. It was midmorning, but the light, already filtered by lowering clouds, was further reduced under the trees.
"Gunny, what is it? I don't see anything."
"It's gone now, Marrec," responded the tattooed warrior, still looking forward intently, "but something was watching us—some sort of ape."
"There are no apes in Lethyr," pronounced Elowen.
"It wasn't exactly an ape," continued Gunggari. "At first I thought a man's face was staring at me, but then I saw that gray-white hair covered its twisted limbs, and it had more than just two eyes—many more than I could count in the heartbeat it appeared to me."
Elowen. frowned.
"Uthraki?" she murmured, almost under her breath.
"What's an uthraki?" wondered Marrec.
"A nasty beast native to Rashemen. I have never heard of one so far west. They are confined to Rashemen and further east—or they were."
"Anything we should know about these uthraki?" asked Marrec.
"Yes. They can assume forms other than their own."
Gunggari narrowed his eyes, and gripped his war club all the tighter.
¦©¦¦©¦<§>¦
All variety of trees were contained within Lethyr, Marrec realized: maples, firs, aspens, pines, holly, oaks, tulip-trees, crabapples, and many more that the cleric could not name, despite his familiarity with forests to the west. Of wildlife, they heard and saw many birds, a fox chasing a rabbit, more squirrels than could be numbered, a sleepy owl, and once, far off, the yip of a wolf.
A full day of travel under the dark boughs saw light
give way to nearly complete twilight. The white trunks of the aspen grove through which they currently wended glowed all the paler for the growing dimness of the surrounding pines. The green leaves glimmered and shook in a sudden breeze of colder air. Night was coming on, and the sounds of the forest began to change, as some creatures sought their lairs, and others, stretching, began their nightly rounds. At the urging of the wind, the rustling forest leaves sounded their nightly chorus.
Elowen walked at the head of the group, leading her mount. The elf finally paused and smiled, saying, "Ah ha. I knew there was a waycache around here. Come on, follow me."
The elf hunter dropped the reigns of her horse, moved along the side of a massive boulder that was butted up against a cliff, then dipped around behind it out of sight.
Marrec shrugged and dismounted. Before hobbling his own horse for the night, he helped down Ususi. Ususi plucked Ash from her pony then moved to follow Elowen, leaving Marrec with the job of grooming, feeding, and hobbling the horses.
"They know the silent art of delegation," noted Gunggari, as the Oslander helped Marrec take care of all their mounts' needs.
Marrec grinned but added, "You have to admit, there is something about the mage..."
"My people ask if beauty at a steep price is still beauty, Marrec."
The unicorn warrior laughed, saying, "Don't worry, Gunny. I've got enough on my plate with just the two women in my life, Lurue and Ash. I don't want to add a third to the mix."
Despite his pronouncement, he knew himself well enough to realize the damage had already been done. He found Ususi exotic. Damn.
"What about you, though?" Marrec quizzed his friend. "I notice you have been treating Elowen to far more
stories of your land' than I've heard from your mouth in a year. Something tells me you're showing off."
Gunggari cocked his head without responding and finished grooming Henri.
When the two men finished, they passed through the cleft formed by boulder and cliff and found a small hollow cunningly cut into the cliff wall. The space was far larger than Marrec would have supposed from the outside. He guessed he might be able to get the mounts into the space, though that might be pushing it. Elowen had hung her lamp on an overhanging branch, washing everything in dim radiance.
Several cavities, like inset shelves, were cut into the rock of the surrounding boulders. Elowen went through these shelves as Marrec watched, pulling out small leaf wrapped packets. Ususi sat on a small moss-lined boulder, her nose in one of the books she had brought. Ash sat nearby, looking nowhere in particular. On the far side of the waycache, water from a spring spilled into a carved basin, then drained again from one side into a small ravine that slipped back under the earth. Marrec used and even maintained similar caches for travelers in the woods of Cormanthor and even in the High Forest, but he had to admit that the hidden spring was a nice touch.
"I don't understand," said Elowen, still going through the contents of the shelves. "This waycache hasn't been restocked in at least a year by the looks of these." She gestured to the few leaf-wrapped parcels she had drawn out. The leaves were dried and brown, which Marrec knew spoke volumes about the freshness of whatever was contained within.
Ash stood without prodding, which was unusual, walked over and nudged one of the wrappers. The girl's nose wrinkled, as if in disgust.
"What is it?" said Marrec, rushing up to his charge.
Losing interest, Ash lapsed back into her normal uncaring stare.
"She must sense the spoilage," responded Elowen. "We're stuck with our own rations for a few more nights, it seems. I can't understand why this cache hasn't been restocked. Briartan never allows this portion of the wood to go untended."
Gunggari asked, "How close are we to the Mucklestones from here?"
"Just a few miles," answered Elowen. "I thought this would be a good place to rest up before plunging ahead. I want us to be rested when we meet the great druid."
Ususi looked up . She said, "Briartan has the Mucklestones in his charge. The Mucklestones are blocked. I doubt Briartan would have allowed that if he could have stopped it Since he couldn't stop it, he's probably..."
Elowen stared at her friend with dawning alarm in her eyes, and Ususi didn't finish her thread of logic. Marrec was gratified to see that Ususi had empathy enough to spare her friend's feelings. It gave him hope.
The group bedded down for the night after establishing a watch schedule. Marrec went to his rest, thankful to have avoided first watch, but sleep was too brief. He woke to the relentless black of middle-night at Gunggari's prodding, whose turn it was to cast off into dreamland. He held back an irritated comment with a real show of will. Where lack of sleep was involved, the cleric knew he was sometimes bitter.
Marrec was on the middle-watch, when by rights all earthly creatures should be snug in their dens—except for the worst sort of creature, which, after all, was why he was awake to guard against them. His eyes roamed the wayeache, picking out each of his fellow travelers wrapped snuggly in their blankets. They'd had a small fire earlier, but Gunggari had let it die down to mere embers. Marrec lit the lamp. Elowen had found a store of lamp oil in one of the storage shelves, more than enough to last through several days of continuous burning should they need it.
The sound of a child crying dimly reached his ears. He stiffened, his eyes immediately shifting to Ash, but the girl slept soundly, her eyes and mouth closed. He could still hear the crying, unmistakably that of small child. Was it his curse to find orphans around every corner? Better check it out, he chided himself.
Before he exited, he shook the tattooed warrior, "Gunny, you awake?"
The Oslander opened one eye and used it to fix him with a baleful stare.
Marrec whispered, "I'm going out to check something. I heard some kid crying out in the. woods, just outside the waycache. Stay alert, I'll be back in a minute if it's nothing."
Gunggari craned his head, listening, but the crying had stopped.
Marrec held the lamp up in one hand, held his spear Justlance in the other, and exited the cozy waycache into the darkness of the forest.
Pausing some feet beyond the large boulder, he scanned to the extent he was able, listening with all his attention. He heard a quiet sob off to the right.
He moved toward the sound, cautious and ready for a trap. What he found was an elven boy of not more than thirteen years, cringing from Marrec's lamplight, hiding behind a great tree. He was dirty and his clothing was ripped. The boy's eyes were wide with fear.
"What in Lurue's great wilderness are you doing here?" asked Marrec.
The boy looked at him, then said something in a language Marrec didn't know. Elvish, but strangely accented.
Looking around, the cleric couldn't find any other evidence to explain how an elven boy could be hiding and crying outside the waycache.
"All right, let's get you back to the others. Elowen will know where you come from, I wager."
Sheathing his spear, he then held out a hand for the
boy to take. "Come on, I'm not going to hurt you."
The boy took Marrec's hand and allowed himself to be lad into the waycache.
The waifs eyes were wide as he took in the group, most still sleeping, except for Gunggari and Elowen. Gunggari must have woken Elowen while Marrec was outside the hollow, he thought. Good, then he didn't have to be the one...
"What are you doing?" yelled Elowen at Marrec.
As she yelled, she struggled for her weapon, which was snagged in her sleeping furs.
Taken off guard, Marrec stared dumbly. That's when the elven boy gave voice to a horrible roar and leaped through the air toward Ash.
In a timeless instant, Marrec saw the boy bloat and elongate, his boy-shape melting away to reveal a gray-white hairy apelike thing. Its twisted limbs scrabbled through the air as they unfolded, and a dozen completely black eyes set all the way around its head glared in all directions.
Gunggari, closer to Ash than anyone else, managed to throw himself into the path of the creature, but the creature that smashed into the Oslander was at least four times the mass of a man. It bowled Gunggari over, sending man and dizheri flying.
Gunggari had offered enough distraction for Marrec to react, but he was too far from the beast. Marrec had sheathed his spear, and his goddess-granted spells seemed as distant as ever. He felt an unwelcome heat behind his eyes, as if in answer to his frustration.
Elowen, bringing up her sword, hissed, "An uthraki!"
The uthraki, its path clear, focused its attention on the just-waking Ash. Its eight foot height towered over the child. Marrec's eyes began to burn. He felt the ache form a searing circuit from the back of his head to his eyes, and...
As if reaching up to pluck a fruit from a tree, Ash
touched the advancing creature. A dim flash ... and where once stood the uthraki, there was nothing, save perhaps motes of dust glittering in Marrec's lamplight.
Silence descended on the hollow, as all eyes fell on little Ash. The girl seemed oblivious to the attention. She settled back into her furs.
Marrec released his pent-up breath, and with it the pain in his head dispersed, just as quickly. His oath remained intact. He gave silent thanks to Lurue, but the girl... what powers did she yet hide? No wonder she was so important to the goddess.
"She has more than just the hands of a healer," commented Gunggari, saying aloud what all must were thinking.
Ususi, who had woken late but in time to note Ash's spectacular destruction of the threatening beast, said nothing, but she watched the young girl closely.
Elowen said, "It is odd that the uthraki was so intent on Ash. Usually, they attack those they've duped, after they've led their intended victim into a secluded spot."
Marrec realized that Elowen meant that it should have been Marrec who was attacked, while he was outside the hollow. Perhaps she was even rebuking him for falling victim to such a dupe. He felt the urge to defend his choice to investigate the sound of a crying child—but instead, he quietly accepted the blame.
<S>-
The figure stepped forward, entering the stone circle while darkness yet reigned. One of his spies had perished. The spell that linked him to the shapechanger was severed. He cared not for the welfare of the uthraki—it was little more than a beast. It had served its purpose merely in giving warning through its death. Someone approached.
Gameliel woke his thralls. There were preparations
to make, rot to culture, and spells to unsheathe. He wouldn't allow the newest, most important outpost of the Rotting Man's empire to fall back into the idle hands of idiot druids. He glanced at the dark shape that still hung impaled on one of the great stones, smirking.
The blightlord felt the weight of the Keystone's cord around his neck. With it, Gameliel possessed the power of the Mucklestones. There was no place the Rotting Man and his most powerful servants could not penetrate at whim.
First, he had to prepare the ambush.
CHAPTER 9
When darkness failed, they broke camp.
Marrec thought the woods were too quiet. In forests to the west, he would have been able to identify the calls of over a dozen species of birds in as many seconds. Instead one crow cawed in the distance as they set out that morning, and for the next several hours he heard nothing more.
"Is the forest usually so..." began Marrec.
"Silent?" finished Elowen. "No." She frowned. "Even yesterday, if you recall, all seemed well. Something's changed."
"It's Gameliel," spoke Ususi from behind them. She continued, "His influence may extend beyond the Mucklestones, and we are close to the circle. I begin to feel the stone shapes in my mind."
"If we are close, we need to be cautious," advised Gunggari, who rode abreast of Marrec and Elowen.
"Agreed," nodded the elf hunter. She added in a tentative tone, "I worry about Briartan."
Marrec said nothing. If Briartan were responsible for the Mucklestones, he doubted the man had come to any good with Gameliel's arrival, or worse, Briartan had been co-opted. He'd seen similar things in the past. They'd find out what was really going on in just a few miles.
He said, "We need a plan, of course."
Gunggari smiled and waited.
"First, let's hear more about this Gameliel," said Marrec. "What should we be prepared for? What does it mean when you say he is a blightlord?"
"The blightlords serve the goddess called Talona," said Elowen. "They are corrupt priests who revel in rot and decay. Their plagues and blights have transformed the western reaches of the Rawlinswood into a foul green hell of diseased monsters and deadly poisons. Gameliel is but one of three, that we know of. Always they seek to infect the healthy forests and lands nearby with the same sickness that is rapidly destroying the ancient Rawlinswood. Though they ultimately serve Talona, their direct master is the Rotting Man, the one who stands highest in Talona's putrid grace."
"What're the other two called again?" wondered Marrec
"Anammelech and Damanda."
All were quiet for a moment, absorbing Elowen's words.
Marrec finally said, "Gunggari should sneak ahead and scout when we get a little closer, then report back. He's good at that sort of thing."
"I'm going with him," stated Elowen. "I also know a thing or two about forest craft."
"Great," said Marrec. "We'll proceed at a slower pace. Double back when you have the chance. Give a signal if you need help."
"What signal?" wondered Elowen.
"If I can not reach my dizheri, I will yell for help," said Gunggari.
Elowen smiled. She and Gunggari dismounted, then forged ahead, melting into the greenery.
<g>- ¦©¦ ¦©¦ ¦©¦ ¦©¦
They moved through the forest. Like leaves on a breeze, from the shadow of one tree to the next, Elowen and Gunggari closed on their goal.
Elowen called upon her stealthcraft, gratified to see that Gunggari knew at least as much as she. To many of her race, surreptitious forest travel came naturally. Elowen liked to keep her techniques in the forefront of her mind. She felt that by doing so, she was all the better at evading detection.
For instance, movement itself is a target indicator. The eye is drawn to movements, so a stationary target may be impossible to detect, and even a steadily but slowly moving target might go unnoticed. Quick, jerky movements are almost always seen, so her slow but silky movements from bole to trunk were deliberate. She didn't give herself away by talking to Gunggari. Of course, she always stowed her equipment in a way that eliminated chance rattling.
Both she and the Oslander were already dressed appropriately for such movement. Neither openly carried anything reflective. Both wore colors designed to blend into the foliage in an attempt to obscure their silhouettes. A body's outline, or even just the head and shoulders, are silhouettes that draw an intelligent eye; even if a watcher can't identify what it sees immediately, the eye is unconsciously drawn, and recognition eventually percolates into consciousness. Camouflage helped.
The trees ahead of her were obviously not right. She held her right hand up and made a fist, a sign for Gunggari to pause. Taking a moment, she scanned the area, noticing the blighted trees and a gray, unhealthy looking fungus growing over trees, leaves—though there were few
enough of those—and the ground. Beyond those she could make out a clear circular space bordered by weathered stones. She was seeing the edge of the Mucklestones.
Normally, the ring of trees surrounding the stones reached their branches out above the hollow bowl, entirely protecting it from the sky's open gaze. But the surrounding trees, fungus-wounded and dying, had lost most of their leaves, and the sky was easily visible above.
Just as the nearby trees were host to the life-sapping fungus, the very stones that gave the place their name were scarred with innumerable patches of growth, staining them with gray slime and obscuring the nature runes etched into the stone.
There, too, was Briartan. Elowen gave out a gasp before she could rein in her reaction. Her old friend was staked to one of the Mucklestones, spread-eagle, an iron spike driven through the palms of both hands. His head lolled down on his chest, and he didn't move. His left leg was missing, amputated. Blood stains spattered his clothing.
"Briartan!" whispered Elowen, unable to stop herself.
Something else moved within the bowl. Many somethings, but from her current position, the recessed nature of the bowl hid what moved, or how many potential foes lurked within.
Defiant, Elowen moved. She motioned for Gunggari to accompany her but didn't wait to see what action the Oslander would take. All her attention was on Briartan. She needed to see if he was still alive, despite his awful state.
Defying her stealthcraft, she darted up to Briartan. The druid was staked up on an exterior face of one of the great stones. She reached up and felt for a pulse on the man's neck. A slight staccato beat, but it was, oh, so faint.
"We've been spotted," hissed Gunggari.
She glanced into the bowl. Gunggari was right.
<&¦ <§?
Marrec didn't know what to do with Ash, he realized too late. He debated leaving her back with Ususi, but according to Elowen, the woman was a skilled mage, and they could use her talents against the Blightlord, if indeed Gameliel was found in the center of the Mucklestones. Besides, he doubted Ususi would hang back—she was out for Gameliel's blood.
Gunggari's dizheri blared forth, penetrating clearly even through the thick forest growth. It was a call for aid.
Marrec realized the time for worrying was over. He whipped Henri's lead around the bole of the nearest tree and tied it with a loose knot. He had tied Elowen and Gunggari's horses on the same bole when they had departed. Ash sat her mount without comment.
He fixed the girl with a look and said, "Ash, stay here. We'll be back. You'll be all right."
The girl looked at him, unconcerned. Now that he had seen her defend herself against the uthraki, some of the anxiety he felt about escorting such a small child into danger was reduced.
Ususi used the time Marrec was dealing with Ash to charge ahead on her horse, heading toward the dizheri's call. Marrec cursed and spurred his own horse in pursuit.
Marrec goaded his steed to the maximum pace it was willing to take through the forest, which was too fast for his own comfort, he realized only after the fact. Tree trunks and low branches whizzed by, and a jump over a fallen log almost sent him tumbling off the back of the horse. The retreating, snaking hem of Ususi's cloak led him on, elusively remaining just out of reach.
Then everything opened up, as he flashed past two standing stones, one on either side, and into a wide circle bounded by rune-etched obelisks. At the last, Ususi held back, allowing Marrec to charge into the bowl by himself. He cursed again when he saw what was waiting.
At least ten gangrenous rot fiends occupied the
outskirts of the bowl, concentrated to Marrec's left; he saw they were engaging Gunggari and Elowen. His attention was consumed by the man who stood at the center of the ring at its deepest point It was Gameliel. It had to be.
The blightlord wore dark gray plate armor, etched with runes that appeared to pulsate and overlap each other occasionally, and from which seeped an oily, black fluid. He wore reddish gauntlets and a helm constructed of the same blood-hued alloy. In one hand he seemed to clutch a halberd-shaped hole in the air leading into utter blackness. Marrec felt he could feel cold bleeding from it, even from where he heeled his mount to stand several yards away.
Gameliel the blightlord stood in a puddle of ooze that was constantly being replenished from the blightlord's armor. Small tendrils of ooze snaked up away from the shallow pool at the bowl's center, touching many of the flat stones ringing the space.
"You picked the wrong day to visit the Mucklestones, friend," came the blightlord's rasping voice.
"You picked..."
Interrupting Marrec's witty response came Ususi's strident yell, "You've contaminated the portal system You've wrecked the stones!"
She had to shout over the clamor of fighting between the volodnis, Elowen, and Gunggari. Marrec could barely see either the elf hunter or the Oslander. Their fight continued outside the ring and was screened from the cleric's view by the press of rot fiends, but he could hear Gunggari's dizheri singing to itself as the tattooed soldier swung it against the swarming volodnis.
"On the contrary," rasped Gameliel. "I haven't wrecked them. I've re-routed the stones for my own use."
Marrec, in turn, interrupted Ususi, "Call your rot fiends off and yield, or we'll force you to succumb. If you yield willingly and answer my questions about the goddess Lurue..."
Ususi struck, interrupting his ultimatum. A rush of unintelligible words preceded her throwing motion. A bead of fire arced high over bowl then dropped toward the blightlord. Marrec sighed. He'd have to get his answers the hard way.
Gameliel glanced at the falling bead but was unruffled. Instead, he spewed a foul syllable. Even as Ususi's fiery bead fell toward him, the oily sludge in which he stood inflated, as if it was a mammoth bubble of swamp gas on the surface of stagnant water. In a mere second it enclosed Gameliel in a transparent dome. The blightlord stood within, gesticulating and chanting.
The bead of fire detonated directly over the blightlord's head. The rush of heat singed Marrec's eyebrows, but when the flash faded, Gameliel was unharmed. The bubble was gone, and there was less ooze at the blightlord's feet than before.
From the back of his horse, Marrec hurled Justlance at the blightlord. It sped unerringly at Gameliel, but a tendril of ooze rose up and flicked the spear away. Instead of the blightlord's chest, it buried itself in a rune-etched stone, its shaft quivering.
Gameliel finished incanting. A flash of dark green heralded the sudden appearance of a monster no more than arm's length from Ususi. The powerfully built creature stood taller than Ususi on her mount. She yelled in alarm and shrank back on her saddle. Marrec recognized the monster—a forest troll, and a big one at that.
Already Gameliel was chanting away on another spell. Marrec knew a troll so close would challenge Ususi's ability to defend herself, but the cleric judged that he had to deal with the blightlord first, or they might face even more trolls.
Time to use up another hoarded spell, Marrec decided. The slime shield had to be burned away.
He called on what grace was left to him, channeling a
searing beam of divine light, which he hurled as a spear at Gameliel's heart.
Again the slime bubble rose up and absorbed the blast, or at least part of it. This time, a trickle of light played across the blightlord's form. Gameliel cried out then cursed as he lost the weave of his spell.
The volodnis continued their attack on Gunggari and Elowen across a quarter span of the Mucklestones bowl, not Marrec's concern right then.
What about... soot and coal!