Black Hart

To Kill A King

Chapter 5 - The Road to Axewood

Mordekei fetched his belongings and returned quickly to Kro's house. Bermen returned soon after, escorted by two dwarves who left without introducing themselves. He said he had news, but waited until Eloi returned before telling them the plan for leaving the capital. Akhan roused from his slumber as Eloi clumped back into the room, slightly more sober for his time in the fresh night air.
As Bermen related his proposition, Mordekei seemed unsure about the journey. "I don't know. We don't know who it is we are escorting, do we? Then again, if they don't know us!"
"We don't even know where this T'Lan guy is now! Look, if Bermen trusts this dwarf, I'm happy with that. I just want to get out of here fast!" Eloi said.
"Yes, yes, I do!" Bermen added enthusiastically. "I fought with him in the battle, and I would trust him with my life!"
There was a pause and a still silence filled the room.
"Ah, and you are, my new friend," Mordekei mused. "You are!"

Next morning, after a few hours sleep, Kro awakened everyone on his way out the door. After bidding them farewell, the ragged bunch began to get ready.
Akhan was found in the kitchen, making a huge fry-up to satisfy his ravenous appetite. He was dismayed to find Eloi and Bermen all too eager to help him devour it. Mordekei seemed to prefer to indulge himself in his strange-smelling brew!
Eloi had his donkey, Bray, and Mordekei had fetched his pony from the stables of his house next door, but it looked as though Bermen and Akhan would just have to walk. They set off to the Merkstaff, and waited there for their mysterious ward to arrive.
Surely enough, just as the temple bells rang out six, Euch'tir, Gratte, Takker and three other Dwer came through the gate, walking around a covered carriage which was drawn by four fine horses, with a driver at the front. To the rear of the coach a human of average height rode on a fine grey horse. He was moderately handsome, and wore clothes of a foppish nature - especially the navy blue hat, with gold band and feather. Eloi muttered to Jean-Paul that it looked like the man and Akhan were in a gaudy fashion competition!
They stopped near to the party and Euch'tir came forward to speak, greeting Bermen first.
“I have cleared it with your commanding officer, Captain, and you are released for so long as you need to complete your 'task'. Here is your charge, not that I think you will find him any trouble on the way! If you would escort them to Axewood, to the residence of Count Fimuth Celanil, and thereafter you will do as you may. I would prefer you get an hour from here at least before you speak with your charge, for privacy reasons."
Bermen nodded.
He continued, gesturing to the human on horseback.
"This is Hamman - he will accompany you, but I think the introductions can wait 'til you are clear of town."
Euch'tir turned to the others, saying, "I thank you gentlemen, one and all, for your time and effort in this matter."
Without bidding farewell, he left and, with the rest of the Dwer, returned back into the Keisling.
Mordekei and Eloi rode on either side of the carriage, Hamman staying at the rear. Bermen took the seat beside the driver, and Akhan the one to the back. The driver shook the reigns and the coach pulled away from the city gates.

The pounding on Aranon’s door had awakened him from a troubled sleep. He was up and had answered it before fully awake, otherwise, at that time in the morning, he would not have opened up.
It was Teuch'tir. He told Aranon to be ready at dawn, as Euch'tir had arranged the journey to Axewood, escort and all.
When Aranon opened the door a few hours later, all his and Emarill’s scant belongings packed, Tharak was waiting, and helped them carry their gear to the waiting carriage. It was a four-horse covered carriage, with a driver at the front. As well as Tharak, Euch'tir and four other dwarves stood by the carriage. Helping Emarril into the carriage, Aranon turned to thank Euch'tir.
"No need, friend," he replied. "It is my pleasure to be of help!"
A human of average height rode up to the carriage on a beautiful grey horse, wearing clothes that he imagined were the height of fashion amongst younger folk.
Aranon could see as he rode into the light that he seemed to be a soldier of some sort, obviously an officer. His tunic bore an unfamiliar coat of arms. A broadsword in a finely jewelled scabbard hung at his left side and a maine-gauche, a duellist's weapon, at the other. To the left also, but close to centre, a strange metal tube with a handle and trigger is pushed in his belt - it looked like a Drow hand crossbow, but with the tube instead of the bow part. He realised that this must be a pistol, a strange missile weapon that, although rare, was very fashionable in the south among nobles and duellists. It fired small bullets using a burning powder, but the 'smokepowder' as they called it was horrendously expensive.
He greeted all, and his greeting was returned.
"This is Prince Hamman Guult, of the House Meeran," Euch’tir explained.
Aranon had heard of Hamman - he was a Sea Princes noble who defected from his homeland, taking three warships with him. He was the only noble on the fated list to avoid any injuries in the assassinations by the Scarlet Brotherhood during the Night of the Long Knives. Indeed, somehow he managed to kill his would-be assassin. In the ensuing battle with their navy he escaped with only the loss of one ship, despite being outnumbered and outclassed, in terms of equipment at least.
He was a duellist of the VanDer Stadt school, Euch’tir told him as they rode, and a naval commander of note. He too was headed to Axewood, where the King was currently residing, in order to pledge allegiance with His Royal Majesty.
The carriage stopped briefly as it left the Merkstaff, the main gate to the Keisling area, where Euch'tir had arranged to meet their escort. Aranon heard them talk, then a few clambered onto the carriage and they set off again.

After about an hour the carriage stopped. Aranon heard a horse ride to the front on his side, and Hamman's voice. The man he spoke to replied, and Aranon felt it was strangely familiar, but could not place it. Emarril was asleep beside him, her veil barely obscuring her beauty, in fact enhancing her proud visage.
A person got down from the carriage and a man opened the door, greeting them.
"My good folk, I ..." Aranon stopped in amazement as he recognised the man before him. "Bermen? Bermen Zladek!"
Four years previously, when he had been a Knight of the Watch stationed in the Crystalmist mountains, Aranon had found this very man close to freezing to death while out on patrol. Snowbound in the Watchers' keep for the long winter, Bermen's obsession with finding his true love, Ehlonna, who had been abducted by a group of humanoids, would have driven him insane had it not been for Aranon's help. His words of wisdom were all that had drawn Bermen back from the abyss of insanity.
In the spring, then 'Sir' Aranon, he had accompanied Bermen to Gorna where he arranged for him to receive a commission in the Grand Duke's army, in charge of a squad of scouts of the 3rd Darullan Highlanders. This allowed Bermen to continue his search for Ehlonna within the massive Crystalmist range.
Aranon greeted his old friend with a hug, and stepped into Akhan's view.
As he did so, Bermen noticed in the darkness of the carriage, on the other side, a woman sitting. Her eyes closed, she appeared to be asleep, and despite her veiled features Bermen could see she was beautiful. Aranon was unmarried four years ago when Bermen knew him, but obviously not any more, he thought.
"My good friend Bermen Zladek, how long has it been? Why you were just a young man and..."
Glancing around at the others as he spoke, Aranon noticed Akhan at the back of the carriage.
"Akhan?! By my Lord's carapace, is this some sort of reunion?" he joked. Addressing them all, he continued. "I wish I could tell you the reason for all this secrecy, but I cannot for now. I just ask that you help me, and I will, if I can, some day help you all out in some way too!"
The party introduced themselves before Aranon concluded with a sense of urgency in his voice.
“An honour to meet you gentlemen, but there are those abroad within the area who might wish us ill. We most definitely need one or two scouts ahead. Let us proceed with haste.”
He shut the door casually as he returned to the carriage, and as he did so Bermen noticed he was indeed wearing a wedding band.
“It is over a day’s ride to Axewood,” Mordekei said before they set off. “We could make it there by early morning if we continued on, or we can stop overnight. Which do you think?”
“I propose that we continue on our travel by the shortest and most direct route,” Eloi replied. “To travel by night would be folly, with the Horde abroad and no doubt many stragglers about, we would most surely draw attention to ourselves. I suggest that we provide a more unruly escort for the caravan, that the individual riders make it look as though we are travelling on our own business and keep a discrete distance from each other and the caravan. If we appear as a force then we are bound to attract someone's attention. If the caravan or an individual is threatened then we will be able to act appropriately."
"Eloi, good thinking!” Akhan enthused. He seemed a little more awake now than at the start of the day. ”Might I suggest that we employ your talents in scouting at the front of our party? Sniff out any dangers and do general scouty things, no?"
Eloi smiled and nodded in acceptance. “We should take turns though, perhaps you could relieve me at the fore in an hour’s time or so.”
“Touché!” thought Akhan, grinning inanely.
"And Prince Guult,” Akhan said, sycophantically to Hamman, “might I humbly suggest that none of the scoundrels abroad at the moment would dare to assault us when we have one of such noble and martial countenance bringing up the rear."
Hamman rolled his eyes in disdain, saying, "I would be grateful if you would call me by my given name, Hamman. It may not have occurred to you, but I do not really wish to draw attention to myself - the Keoish would hate me as a Sea Princes' noble, and undoubtedly the Brotherhood have out their assassins to find me too."
He smiled as he concluded sarcastically, "Besides, being a prince can be so boring!"
Eloi glanced at Akhan’s eye patch, unashamedly asking him, "So, how did you come to lose the eye then? A heroic deed of much valour no doubt.”
Akhan gave his best cheesy one-eyed ‘Smile of Sincerity’.
"Ah, let's just say that some husbands are a little extreme in their possessiveness of their women. The Baron would have had the other eye out if I hadn't disembowelled the cuckold with a swift sideswipe.”
Eloi laughed. This Akhan wasn’t bad for a half-elf.
Bermen, ever serious, interrupted the jollities.
"Sirs, I think it would be wise if we tried to avoid all contacts, but if we do meet with any official presence it would perhaps be better if we had some plausible story to explain our presence together. I think we would do well to pretend that Lord Aranon was a wealthy merchant and say as little as possible. Other than any interference we should proceed as Eloi suggests and try to draw as little attention as possible. No-one should be further away than say thirty seconds gallop on a good horse and we should close up when passing wooded areas."
“Agreed,” Hamman said. “A sound idea, Captain, good to see you know your tactics.”
Hamman looked intently at Bermen. He was tall and brooding with a weather-beaten face. To Hamman he seemed tough and capable-looking, and he was sure that he had seen him somewhere before, although he could not quite place him.
"You seem friendly with the Dwerfolk,” Eloi said to Bermen. “You have had dealings with their kind before?"
"Yes, Eloi,” Bermen answered, glad that the conversation had gone from women to battle. “I had the good fortune of fighting side by side with those doughty folk and I consider it an honour that they favour me with their friendship.”
“Gentlemen,” Mordekei said impatiently. “Indeed, let us proceed post-haste and by the fastest possible route. Without doubt, given the recent events, there may be those who would also wish us harm, and who are best avoided.”
Eloi surveyed the tall, thin magician, and was unsure how he felt about him, particularly when he displayed so many of the Suel traits his enemies of the previous nights had. A black skull cap, his beard and hair both shortly clipped and silver-grey, and a long flowing red robe made him obviously a member of his profession to anyone who would look. He seemed to have a rather definite lack of luggage, apart from a small sack.
Without a word, Eloi rode on ahead and the party set off again.

Aranon, came out of the carriage later on, despite Bermen’s advice to the contrary.
He was very curious about Hamman, asking him an endless stream of pointless questions before finally getting to the point in which he was interested.
"I couldn't help but notice, Hamman, that you carry a "Gonne" as a weapon of choice."
Hamman looked puzzled at this.
"The pistol," Aranon said, pointing to the handle with a tube on it which Hamman had shoved in his belt.
"Ah," he replied, the fennig finally dropping. He removed the pistol from his belt, pulling back the wheel-like part at the end of the tube and handed it to Aranon with the tube part pointing away from himself.
"Have a go, but don't..."
Suddenly there was a noise like a clap of thunder!
A small chunk of wood in the carriage roof exploded and the whole thing was cracked. Aranon nearly fell off the carriage with shock and there was a constant ringing in his ears. Hamman's horse was steady, but those pulling the carriage were disturbed and the coachman had to work hard to prevent them from bolting away. Mordekei’s pony reared up a couple of times before settling.
Hamman was laughing hysterically.
"Hahahaha, dont, hahaha, don't touch the trigger, its loaded, hahaha!"
He nearly fell off his horse laughing, taking the pistol back from Aranon, who had almost wet himself with fright!
Those scouting ahead had turned back and were riding back towards the carriage. Hamman waved them away when they came near enough.
"Sorry, sorry Aranon, I didn't think you'd do that!"
He removed a small drinking horn from his sack, and poured a silver powder into the tube part. Then he placed a small lead ball from his belt pouch into the tube, and pushed it down with a small rod attached to the tube. Finally he placed a pinch of the powder at the end of the barrel, next to the wheeled part that had moved when Aranon touched the trigger.
"I always keep her loaded. I shouldn't have cocked it though, sorry! Its a favourite of mine. Took it from a pirate off the Amedio Coast last year. They're rare to come by - almost all I've heard of we're found in the Amedio jungle - there's signs there of a lost civilisation there, you know.”
“Anyway, they are very rare," he continued, "But this stuff..."
Hamman patted the powder horn.
“Well, the smokepowder's worth more than its weight in platinum."
His interest in the pistol gone, Aranon returned, shaken, into the carriage to check if Emarill was all right as the carriage set off again.

The day passed slowly, a warm and pleasant day at that.
It was the last day of Goodmonth, in the High Summer. The leaves were still full of deep green colour, and it would be a full month before they turned golden and brown and paved the roads of Keoland. As he sat on the carriage roof, Bermen was grateful for the gentle breeze that lifted the sweat from his brow as the day reaches its hottest.
There was much traffic on the road, passing in both directions. From the north came both wounded soldiers, and haggard refugees, fleeing the war. Most who made it thus far, though, were the lucky ones. From what the soldiers told him the fighting was now far away, and seldom more than a short melee. Neither side seemed to have either the strength or the desire to stage a full-blown battle.
Heading north were fresh troops, some looking scarily young, probably like Bermen had on his own first adventure. There were also supply wagons, and more refugees daring the long, weary journey home to the re-conquered parts. Most people were tired, or worried, and Bermen had little trouble minimising contact with them.

As dusk approached, they saw a small village up ahead, which had a small, ramshackle inn. But it appeared weatherproof and comfortable, and that was all they required.
The carriage halted outside, and everyone, save Bermen, was surprised when Aranon held open the door, and out from the darkness stepped a woman!
She was hauntingly beautiful, dressed in dark clothing, and wore a veil over her face which only adorned her perfection. Most shocked of all was Akhan, however, for he knew that Aranon’s wife was recently killed at sea. As she walked in, Aranon turned, smiling, and said, "Sorry about the other little secret boys, but all will be made clear at Axewood!"
Without further ado, he strode inside.

There were only three rooms at the inn.
Aranon had one room, which he shared with the woman. Bermen shared with Akhan, leaving Mordekei to share with Eloi. Hamman had somehow, despite being last into the inn, managed to secure himself a single room in the innkeeper's own home! The luckless coachman was to sleep in the stable.
Mordekei soon started to really annoy Eloi, insisting that the bedroom window remained open. After a few childish tiffs of the 'open-shut-open' variety, Eloi returned to the room to find the mage had somehow shut the window open.
”Round one to Mordekei,” Eloi thought. “But revenge is a dessert that is best served with lots of cream.”
Metaphors had never been Eloi's strong point!
To take his mind off that open window, he returned downstairs and started a card game, quickly setting about the locals and Akhan to relieve them of their hard-earned wampum.
“If only JP were here,” Eloi thought. “Then I’d really enjoy taking their money.”
Hamman soon joined the game, but after losing twelve Merkke, he bowed out and headed to the bar where Bermen and Mordekei were eating.
The food was simple, but good. Since Aranon was paying, and paying well, they had slaughtered a head of cattle just for them. The soup itself, however, was immense. Obviously the type of 'walk-on' soup that was left in the pot for decades, with bits being added in every day. The secret to its enjoyment, however, was not asking for a definition of 'bits'. Just enjoying them - they were tasty and nobody really wanted to know!
Aranon, as a gesture of goodwill, had also purchased a keg of beer for everyone, including locals, to share. The beer was locally brewed, and much stronger than the usual Keoish stuff. Generally, the further north you went in the Sheldomar, the better the beer. Once into the Gran March and Geoff, well then you were in real beer country, although some found it a bit crusty!
Aranon though stayed in his room mostly, with the mysterious dark lady. As Eloi had said, "Well, so would I!"
Late on that night, before going to bed, a local had been asking Hamman to show him his sword. He took out the broadsword, not allowing the local to touch its fine, grey blade. As he went to put it away, he suddenly looked up at Eloi, who was across the room playing cards at the table by the fire - a long, thoughtful stare, before carefully replacing the sword in its jewelled scabbard.
The look totally unnerved Eloi, who lost the next three games, and four Merkke, to a joyous Akhan. Akhan, in turn, felt a bit of a headache coming on - perhaps the unusual excitement of winning!
He spoke briefly with Mordekei, telling him quietly that the Eye was giving him pains. The mage suggested a brisk walk in the cool night air, which always helped him with psionic headaches, although he did not tell Akhan that.
"Try to empty your mind,” Mordekei said, closing his eyes. ”Let the pain flood through your body then slowly control the pain, making it all flow into the little finger of your left hand. When it reaches there, shake your finger and it will drop out. Then come back and get some sleep. It's been a hard day for us all!"
Mordekei smiled, and Akhan left the inn, walking out into the calm clear night, which was lit by the full glory of Luna.
Eloi, uncharacteristically, went off to bed first. Early even by Mordekei's standards, he had seemed upset at something. Mordekei sat by the bar, nursing his strange brew - he asked the barman for more boiling water, and poured this through some sort of sieve, into which he has placed what looked like a small heap of dirt or compost. The others had even noticed he was talking to himself.
As he had sat there, Mordekei had become aware that Grymalkin was close by, his familiar's voice flooding into his weary head.
“Grymalkin tired!”
The innate telepathy between them was very limited. Grymalkin was by no means stupid, but he was not of great intelligence. Mordekei was also aware that, not used to having others around, he tended to speak these words aloud, albeit softly. He would have to concentrate on not doing this.
“Bedroom, Grym. Window open. Wait there.”
As Grym flew closer, Mordekei got a vision of being outside the inn, above it, and swooping down to the open window. As he regained his balance on the sill, the room door opened, and from the moonlight, and some candlelight in the corridor. Mordekei could see a dark shape in the doorway. It was Eloi.
Mordekei quickly glanced around the inn, noticing he had left the card game and must have gone up to bed!
Eloi looked shocked at Grym's appearance. He was not sure what the scout was going to do!

Wary to the point of distraction, Eloi had been losing at cards against mediocre opponents, and decided to slink off to bed. As he opened the bedroom door, he was reminded of Mordekei's love of fresh air as a cold draught hit him.
And then he saw it!
Perched on the windowsill, illuminated by moonlight and some candlelight from the hallway, there was a beast - it had long, leathery wings, and a lizard's body, complete with scales, which glimmer red in the half-light!
A dragon!
Thinking quickly, he suddenly realised that this probably had something to do with Mordekei and his open window fetish.
Calming his beating heart, he spoke to the creature in a nonchalant manner.
"I assume perchance that you may be Mordekei's familiar? If not I may have to kill you"

The Eye was giving Akhan pains, and the beer wasn’t helping any!
As he walked out, recounting Mordekei’s advice, he decided to explore the village. Or at least, what there was of it.
It was a very small village, Edalsvell was its name apparently, and he was soon at its edge. The full moon of Luna lit up the countryside, and there were tiny lights coming from the many farms in this area. The pain was better, but had not yet totally gone. Akhan decided to stroll a bit out of town to scout out the next day's journey.

“Grymalkin, Grymalkin! Grym tired. Fly long way. Sleep.”
Mordekei held his breath downstairs, almost frantic with worry, as Grym’s soft voice floated in his mind.
The Pseudodragon hopped off the windowsill, and, with a flutter of his wings, landed on Mordekei's bed, curled into a ball. Mordekei’s image faded as Grym fell fast asleep.
“Phew! That could have been nasty!” he thought, returning to his Camomile tea which had brewed just nicely.

It was not long before Akhan was sure that he was being followed!
Whoever, or whatever it was, it was between him and the village. He could hear the soft pad, pad, padding of feet, almost drowned out by his own.
He continued on, thinking fast, wondering what to do.
“Is it an enemy? A friend? An animal?”
Just as his paranoia reached breakpoint, Akhan saw the culprit - a hundred yards back, a large dog, about wolfhound size, was calmly walking along the road toward him. Akhan felt immediately relieved, releasing his hand’s firm grip on his shortsword.
Breathing out, he smiled and walked on. The pain was almost gone - he had momentarily forgotten about it when concentrating on the 'follower'. About half a mile on Akhan came to a small, dark copse of woods. Ten yards into it he was again unnerved - it reminded him of the woods where he lost his eye.
A noise in the bushes stopped him dead - a soft, deep groaning, almost a growl. He stood frozen to the spot. Then from behind, back towards the village, a snarling growl erupted and Akhan spun about - facing him was the large wolfhound he saw earlier. Its teeth were bared, tail between its legs and it crouched, ready to pounce on him as it growled a deep, long snarl of fear and terror.
Behind him, there was a soft sound of moving leaves in the trees.

Bermen went around at the end of the night telling everyone that he intended to have the party moving for first light. No sense lying in bed like sluggards.
He spoke briefly to Aranon when he had ventured down to speak to the innkeep, Halykk, discretely offering his congratulations and his best wishes for future happiness.
"It gladdens my heart to see you married to such a fine woman, Aranon. May you be blessed with many strong sons to carry on your family line. My father always said the only immortality worth having was the success of his sons."
Aranon, was lost for words at the thought of his dead son, who had also drowned along with his wife. He frowned and turned back upstairs to Emarill.
Bermen had not been able to warn Akhan of the early start, so he had a wander outside to see what was to be seen, while doing a routine scout of the immediate surroundings, and checking the carriage thoroughly, making sure the horses had been properly provided for. The village was small and it was not long before he had searched the entire place. Strangely, there was no sign of Akhan!
As he reached the north end of the village, the direction they would travel tomorrow, there was the sound of a dog growling loudly, then barking furiously. An inhuman roar, more snarling and the dog yelped. Bermen paused, listening carefully.

Aranon had spent most of the night in the room with Emarill. He was very pleased with her progress. She was asking some deep religious questions, and his answers seemed to give her comfort.
Apart from praying together, Aranon had also tried to suss out the means of effecting a rapid departure from the Inn, should an emergency arise. He could see nothing much to help him. Out the window seemed their best bet. There was a yard to the rear accessible from downstairs, but he soon realised this was just a small village inn, only having facilities this good because it was the main stopping point on the Niole Dra to Axewood road.
Aranon returned from his recce, after Bermen had innocently drudged up his memories. As time to sleep approached, the dilemma loomed. There was only one bed in the room, and Emarill had occupied it. As Aranon spread his blanket on the floor, she reached down and stayed his hand.
"No," she said forcefully, "Please, I want you to be with me!"
The thoughts spinning through his mind whirled even faster. Outside, somewhere, a dog was barking.

“It's behind me isn't it!” Akhan thought.
Spinning around quickly, Akhan drew his sword, trying to find cover behind the nearest tree and pulling up his eye patch to reveal the Eye. As the mixed image of infra, ultra, and normal vision filtered through, he swayed for a split second. He was still not used to the confusing pictures it fed him. The cold blue light which Kagnstir gave off when unsheathed made this eerie copse even more spooky!
His vision cleared as the sword shed its magical light, and there, but 10 feet ahead of him, stood a troll! It lunged towards him, claws flailing, teeth bared, with a deep roar. The dog, now barking furiously, leapt to the attack.
Although he had never faced one before, Akhan knew from legends that trolls had awesome regenerative powers, to the extent that they could reform even if totally dismembered. The only thing that caused them permanent damage was fire!
The dog sank its teeth into the vile beast before the troll swiped it off with a mighty blow. The dog yelped loudly as it landed in the undergrowth nearby, and was not too quick to get back to its feet.
The next mighty claw was sent hurling Akhan’s way, but it found only thin air as the thief dodged nimbly past - unfortunately he ran straight into its snarling maw, and it bit deeply, taking a bloody chunk from his left shoulder.
Akhan’s sword founds its mark, but did little damage to the beast. The badly injured dog ran off yelping, back towards the village.
Akhan’s next blow caught the troll off-guard, slipping under his wild blows and plunging Kagnstir deep into its gut. Pulling back his sword its thick black blood poured from the wound and over his sword, and the beast howled dreadfully. It was wounded deeply.

“Now I can close this fucking window!” Eloi thought to himself, moving over to do so.
As he pulled the shutters, the rogue noticed an odd light just outside town to the north - a strange blue glow, thin and moving brightly about in the air. A dog was yelping. At the edge of town in this direction, Eloi could just see a figure, who looked like Bermen - a yelping dog ran towards him, then stopped, barking furiously. It then turned back north before stopping again and barking at Bermen.
Eloi nearly fell out the window as the 'dragon' thing leapt up from the bed and landed on his left shoulder, peering out into the night at the scene below.
An excited voice floated into his head, obviously the dragon's.
“Troll, troll, man fight troll!” it said.
Suddenly it dawned on Eloi - the sword Akhan wielded against the assassin gave off an eerie blue glow identical to that one!
The dragon launched off Eloi’s shoulder into the night, flying north towards Bermen and the fight!
Eloi grabbed his flail and ran out of the room, shouting to dragon, "Find Mordekei and tell him what you told me."

As Bermen listened, the yelping resumed, and then grew louder. After a minute his trained ears heard the padding of dog's feet coming nearer, although the pattern sounded different than normal somehow. Then, a limping, yelping dog, probably a Wardog, came into sight.
It stopped a few yards away and, staring straight at the ranger, began barking furiously. As it turned back to the road north, Bermen saw the claw-marks of some large beast on its right shoulder, blood flowing slowly from the wound.
It turned back again, barking once more before trotting slowly back north. Now Bermen noticed a strange, eerie blue glow lighting up a copse a short distance on. A soft sound above made him look up, and by the light of the lantern taken from the inn, he saw a creature flying overhead, some sort of small red dragon! The wyrmling glided overhead, about twenty feet up, and was heading on towards the blue glow!
"Aranon, Eloi, Mordekei, Hamman!” Bermen shouted, turning slightly towards the village. “Awake yourselves, there's evil afoot. Wake up!! I fear Akhan may be in trouble in the woods beyond!"
Throwing his lantern to the side, Bermen ran off after the dog, thinking to himself, “The blue light will surely lead to the trouble, but I must follow this warhound now before it may be too late.”
He soon caught up with the wounded hound, but continued on toward the blue light, puffing and panting.
"By Kelanen,” he thought, “that looks like some form of magic from the wood. And the wyrmling - the gods help Akhan if he is trapped in there"

Suddenly, Akhan was aware of the beating of leathery wings - glancing up momentarily, he caught sight of a dragon-like beast above, gliding around overhead. With a pain in his ribs, his mind returned to the fight as the troll drew its razor-sharp talons across his body. Akhan’s next blow went far wide.
Suddenly, out of the darkness, Bermen ran into the copse, his sword swinging, shouting, “Zladek! Zladek!”
The troll's claws once more found Akhan's flesh, but as they closed Kagnstir slipped past its guard, piercing its throat with such force that its massive head was torn from its neck, falling to the ground.
Bermen's blow, already started, caught the body as it began to fall. A weak blow, nevertheless the ranger's skill shone out, and his sword slipped under the ribs of the beast, riding up into its chest, before he swiftly pulled it free, and the troll collapsed, headless, to the ground.
The dog rushed in, grabbing one of its legs and shaking it furiously, growling as it did so. It also seemed badly wounded, probably close to death, and held one paw in the air. Still it refused to let go its grip on the beast.
As they watched, both panting and trying to recover their breath, the eyes of the troll flickered open, rolling over towards the body, and the body twitched, then started to claw its way slowly towards the head. The head’s teeth snarled silently and snapped in their direction!
The noise from the village, through which they could now hear Eloi's gruff tones, grew closer, and then, Eloi, Mordekei and Hamman, closely followed by the innkeeper and two locals, burst into the clearing.
And the creeping troll body pulled closer and closer to that head, the wounds on its body closing up and healing by the second.
“Ouch,” thought Akhan, looking at his wounds. “Last time I try to fence with a troll.”
The wyrmling circled overhead, then swooped down and landed softly on Mordekei's shoulder.
"Somebody barbecue this fucker quick before it regenerates!” he said to the villagers. “Mordekei, if that red bugger on your shoulder can spout flames then get it into char-grill mode pronto. And I want this bastard's skull for a piss-pot; gold plated I think."
"Quick, Akhan is right.” Bermen said. “Fire the troll now."
The villagers and the innkeeper, with their torches, set about the remnants of the troll. The creature, still regenerating, writhed and twisted pitifully as they gathered branches from the forest and built a small fire under it. Eloi, meanwhile, stabbed and poked at the beast, under the pretence of keeping it incapacitated while the fire was built. He seemed to be enjoying it!
"So that's what's been going on!" Halykk the innkeep said. When everyone looked suitably interested he continued. "A few months ago we had trouble with folk disappearing. Then the King's men came and caught a troll hereabouts, killed it. Guess this must be its mate. Don't suppose we would notice travellers disappearing of late with all the soldiers been passing through."
Akhan sat down with a slightly pained expression on his face. His wounds looked bad, but were probably not as bad as he was making out!
"Cheers, Bermen! I appreciated your contribution.” Akhan said, pointing at his shoulder. “You wouldn't happen to be a dab-hand at battlefield dressings?”
"You are injured comrade,” the ranger replied. “Let us see to your wounds."
"Anyone got any booze,” Akhan added. “Anaesthetic purposes only, you understand..."
He grinned as Halykk pulled out a hip-flask of cheap brandy, much to Akhan's delight.
The fire well ablaze, the locals put the troll's body onto the fire, and with a last horrible, silent scream it met its end. The smoke soon filled the clearing, and the stench of burning troll was overpowering.

A barking dog was beginning to annoy the distressed Aranon. He got up from the floor, ignoring Emarill’s pleas, and went over to the window.
The window looked south, over the stables and back yard. He could hear a fair bit of activity, and that damned dog barking, although it sounded as if it was moving away. The noise gradually died down and Aranon turned around after closing the shutters.
Emarill looked at him sullenly. She patted the bed beside her, the sheets pulled back.
"Aranon," she whispered, "Come to bed my lord!"
Ignoring her, Aranon lay back down on the floor, and swiftly drifted into a deep, dream-filled sleep.
He was back in the thick of battle, in the midst of a cavalry charge. He saw the weary Knights of the Watch around him, and together they charged headlong into a stout wall of evil monsters and dark knights. The pounding, pounding, pounding of horses hooves drowned out all other sounds.
As they galloped closer, the Knights lowered their lances for the charge - the hordes braced themselves - resolute. Then suddenly, through them all, he saw Emarill. Emarill? ...Emarill!
With a start, a noise awakened him.
Emarill!
Aranon sat bolt-upright, and glanced around the room from his 'bed' on the floor. He looked to the bed, but it was unoccupied. Outside, the faint sound of horses hooves galloped into the still of the night.
Jumping up, he threw on his clothes, grabbed his quarterstaff and ran out of the inn into the village square. The place was deserted. In fact, he suddenly realised, there had been no-one in the inn at all, and several drinks left around the room as though they all left in a hurry!
Then he noticed a glimmering fire burning on the road to the north, and the smell of burnt flesh drifted down from there.

"So what happened here, fellows?” Mordekei asked. “Molesting a poor innocent troll, or are there likely to be others of these foul creatures about?"
"Hmmm...good question - I mean we thought we'd solved it with the last one!" says Halykk.
"Does the parrot do anything more than ponce about or can it breath fire perchance?" Eloi taunted Mordekei.
The wyrmling appeared slightly restless, probably quite annoyed at that comment. He swished his stingered tail from side to side angrily, and this seemed to wipe the grin from Eloi's face. Suddenly it leapt into the air, and Eloi flinched, but it flapped past him and soared away into the forest.
Bermen helped Akhan to his feet, and set off back towards the inn, but they had hardly gone ten yards when Mordekei called them back.
"Wait! Grym's found something!" he shouted. "In the woods - the troll's lair."
Slowly, cautiously, they made their way into the woods, the trolls burning corpse crackling on the fire. A hundred yards from the road they found Grym, ten yards from a small cave that was partly covered by undergrowth.
The cave was only four feet high at the mouth, and they could not see far inside it. Indeed, from inside, there was a sickeningly foul stench of troll coming out. This was only worsened by the smell of burning troll from the fire on the road, and one of the locals was losing his supper to the stench!
"I suggest that there might be some fine bounty to be found within this cave.” Eloi said, his eyes glinting at the prospect. “Trouble is, who is going to go in and have a look?"
"Right, lads, personally I reckon we keep a guard on this entrance until morning," Mordekei suggested. ”Then, with the advantage of daylight we smoke the beasts out. What say you?"
“I've done my fair share of bold adventuring for this evening,” Akhan thought, staring at the dark cave with a sense of foreboding.
"Ah, cheers men," he said unenthusiastically, “But I think I'll employ my talents having a look around the rest of the woods, and see if there are any other concealed entrances. And no 'funny' comments about back passages if you please."
Akhan sauntered off, desultorily kicking at the undergrowth and inspecting the area around the cave mouth for signs of another entrance.
"I will enter the cave to see if there is anything of interest inside.” Eloi said.
Hamman handed his torch to Eloi, then drew his pistol from his belt, saying, "Go ahead, 'Scout', I will follow you in if you encounter trouble."
Eloi did not like the emphasis on the word 'scout' - did Hamman know something about him that he wasn’t aware of?
He entered the cave, flail drawn and the lit torch in his other hand. Moving slowly and deliberately, hardly a sound came from his feet as he ducked down to enter the cave, thrusting the torch ahead of him, and he slipped out of sight of the party.

Akhan stomped off, checking out the undergrowth. When he was far enough away, he uncovered the Eye, which he had barely managed to cover when Bermen arrived. After a moment's wobbler, the whole area flooded into vision in great detail, as clear as broad daylight in the full light of Luna.
He was disappointed as a thorough search of the area found neither entrance nor loot.
“Piffle, and thrice piffle!” he thought.
As he wandered back to the others, Akhan heard a low, mournful whine coming from the road.
“The troll!” he thought. Then he realised it sounded more like a dog! The wardog!
With a pang of guilt, Akhan realised he had left the injured dog, which helped him beat the troll and fetched Bermen to his aid, by the road.
As fast as his injuries would allow, he ran over to the road, and down to where the remains of the troll still smouldered. There, lying near to the fire, the dog was slowly bleeding to death from its wounds. It was a grey coloured wolfhound, and wore a spiked collar with ties on his body which were probably the remnants of his leather armour. It was near death, but was probably saveable.
The dog stopped whining as Akhan approached, and licked his hand softly when he reached for its collar. Akhan looked at the metal plate on the collar, which was inscribed: 'Ash - Sgt. Predik - 1st Lt. Ft'.
A soft growl rumbled from the dog’s throat.
Paddum, paddum, paddum, PADDUM...
A horse, with a cloaked rider, burst around the bend, and instinct alone made Akhan leap up, sword drawn in an instant, heart pounding. As it sped past he recognised the rider - it was the woman who was with Aranon - on Hamman's horse - and she had a sword at her side!
She quickly disappeared into the darkness, and his thoughts returned to the dog.
“Aranon - of course!” he thought. “Maybe he could help it!”

Expecting a large cave, Eloi was surprised to see the inside. It was quite compact, and appeared to be about twelve feet high at the centre, although the roof lowered to the door. The cave was covered in troll faeces and bones, and stank to high heaven. Scattered about the cave were several glinting objects - gold and copper by the looks of them. There were scores of bones here, seemingly of many different creatures. It would take hours to recover all the coins, even with a few people helping, and it would be very unpleasant work.

Dismissing the woman from his thoughts, Akhan stooped, gathering up the dog in his arms. It did not yelp, although he could see it was in real pain from its wounds which were deep, almost to the bone. As quickly as he could manage, Akhan scurried back to the village to seek out Aranon.
"I just hope he wasn't getting his end away,” he muttered to the dog.
As he reached the edge of the village, Akhan was surprised to see none other than Aranon himself walking towards him, a lantern in one hand and his staff in the other.
"What in the Gloom of Hades is going on, Akhan?" he asked quizzically, looking him up and down. "And where on Oerth is everyone?"
"There was a troll, Aranon,” Akhan replied. “This dog saved my life. He's injured - can you help him?"
Aranon looked at the dog briefly.
"Place him on the ground," he replied, seeming reluctant.
Akhan did so, and the dog whined as his body heat left him. Its blood was all over Akhan’s fine violet waistcoat.
Aranon leaned over, and Akhan heard him mutter the words of a prayer over the dog. He swept his hands across it, touching its wounds, and before his eyes, the blood stopped flowing, and the deep wounds become shallow, then healed instantly. The dog slowly rose up from the ground, its tail wagging. It turned to Akhan, and licked his hand with a warm, wet tongue.
“Waste of a good bloody spell, ruddy dog,” thought the priest.

Outside the cave, the party had been waiting for some time - Hamman seemed impatient, and all felt convinced that something has gone amiss. The wyrmling fluttered down from a high tree and resumed his perch on Mordekei's shoulder. It drew Mordekei a cock-eyed glare, as if slighted by him in some way.
Hamman said, "What can be keeping the damned fool?"
Everyone seemed nervous of the way, as he paced back and forth, that his pistol swung from side to side, occasionally pointing in their direction.
Suddenly a yell came from the cave.
"It's OK," Eloi's muffled voice yelled. "Come on in."
Hamman first, they entered the now well-lit cave, until, after Halykk the barkeep entered, there was no room for any more.
"I would suggest,” Eloi said as they surveyed the mess, “That it would be more prudent to return here in the morning to salvage what we can from the cave. It seems that the beast has been attacking lone travellers from the surrounding area. I propose that we hand over whatever bounty we find, minus finders fee of course, to the village militia.”
Within a few moments, everyone had seen enough, and were quickly exiting the cave, although Eloi seemed less affected by the smell than most. Outside he continued his proposals.
“No doubt there may be families of the victims who may wish to claim an heirloom. I would however suggest we leave a guard to protect the cave from looters. Bermen, if you remain on guard for the next two hours, someone will replace you after this time and we shall each take turns to guard until this night is over."
"Fine,” said Bermen. “But from outside!"
“Can't believe I just said that, must be getting soft,” Eloi thought.
Eloi looked around, and asked the others what that noise was. Nobody else had heard anything.

Hearing a noise from behind, Akhan and Aranon turned to see the party, along with Halykk and a couple of villagers, emerging from the woods. Bermen and a few other villagers seemed to be missing.
"Thank you, Aranon.” Akhan said as they came closer. “They found the troll's lair."
Akhan then paused briefly, working out how exactly to word this. He leaned closer and spoke quietly so the others would not hear.
"Aranon, I don't know if its any of my business, but I thought I saw that lady who was in your carriage ride past me in the woods - on Hamman's horse!"
"Quick man, which way did she go?" Aranon spluttered.
"Well, Aranon, the road to Axewood only goes one way - north
Aranon seemed very anxious, shouting, "Which of you has the fastest horse, I need to borrow it!"
"Mine probably," Hamman said. "Why, what do you need him for?"
Akhan turned to Hamman, saying, "Well, actually, I think it was your horse she rode off on. Obviously she has good taste! In horses anyway!"
Halykk piped up, "Take one of our horses, Milord - they won't win no races, but they are strong and trustworthy!"
“This is going from bad to worse!” thought Aranon.as, frustration obvious on his brow, he turned and ran off back to the inn.
Hamman appeared very confused. "My, hor...she...who?..What are you talking about? Who has my horse? What's going on?"
Akhan briefly explained what had happened, before Hamman turned chalk white and sprinted off after Aranon, yelling, "My bloody horse!"
This all seemed to amuse Eloi no-end!

Aranon ran back to the inn, to the back yard and the stables. There he saddled up a horse before running upstairs to fetch his belongings. When he returned to the horse, Hamman was there, with a perplexed look on his face.
"Lord Aranon, what is going on?” he demanded. “Who is this woman, and why has she stolen my horse?"
Aranon strode past him to the horse, making it obvious he would not answer Hamman’s questions.
"Alright then," he said, placing his hand over Aranon’s as he gripped the saddle to mount. "I'm going too!"
"No!" Aranon yelled at him. "I must go alone. Fear not, there is no danger and even if there were I have the ability to see it off!"
Aranon winked at Hamman. The foppish duellist did not look happy, and sighed at Aranon’s response as he took his hand away.
"If anything happens to that horse, Aranon...anything!"
Aranon shook his head as he mounted.
“Fuck your horse!” he thought, riding out of the stable past him. As he entered the village square, the party were walking back to the inn, and he galloped past them to avoid any further inquisition.

Akhan looked at the dog, who had not yet left his side.
“Now why the Hell would a battle-hardened wardog attach himself to a thief like me?” he thought. “Why not the martial Marshal Bermen? Ah well, charisma counts I guess.”
He cleared his throat and the dog looked up at him.
"Greetings mighty war dog! I think you just saved one of my nine lives."
Akhan patted the dog rather gingerly on the head, warming to its amiable grin (of very sharp- looking teeth) almost in spite of himself.
"Well, you are a bit of a useful chap aren't you? Ash, wasn't it? Very pleased to make your acquaintance."
Akhan gave a half-mocking, half-serious bow to the war dog.
"I think a good night's work deserves a reward don't you. Now let's see if this flea pit of an inn has any good scraps of meat or a bone or two. Come on, follow me"
They all returned to the inn - on the way there Akhan began to describe his entire family history to the dog. As they reached the village square they were passed by Aranon riding a horse full-pelt to the north. Everyone retired to the bar, in dire need of a drink.
Hamman came in moments later.
"My horse," he despaired. "He won't even tell me what's going on, says its something he needs to take care of himself."
Halykk passed him a large brandy, and Hamman retired to the fireplace, with a worried look on his noble face.
"Women, eh?" Eloi offered philosophically. "Can't live with 'em, can't skin 'em and make wall-coverings with 'em!"
Akhan chuckled a bit at this remark, looking at the faithful Ash who was tucking into the bowl of stew Halykk had set before him.
"At least you won't steal my favourite horse, Mister Ash," Akhan said to the dog.
Ash looked up at him for a second, his grey beard covered in gravy, then returned to his feast - he obviously hadn't eaten for a while.
Akhan then began to regale the dog with lurid (and most unlikely) tales of his past in an animated manner.
“Shit, I've had enough of this crap!” thought Eloi.
"Well, I have been heroic once too often tonight,” he announced. “Now I am going to bed to dream of fat women, large spliffs, copious beers and kind cards. Goodnight gentlemen, wake me when it is my turn to guard."

"Wots it loike ta foight a dreggon?"
"Oi seen me an orc once - it wer ayte feet tall an' had fangs loike this - ave yore ever seened one mister Bermen?"
In the forest it was taking all Bermen’s patience not to leave these peasants to their fates.
With the heat from the fire, the villagers soon fall asleep - thankfully!

Two seconds after reaching his bed, Eloi fell into a deep, deep sleep, dreaming of big orcish women with mammoth gazoombas. One of them grabbed him by the shoulder and started shaking him violently, just the way he liked it.
"Eloi! Eloi! Eloi Brand, wake up, it is time for your watch!"
Eloi slowly wakened and, after 'thanking' Akhan, who still had his dog with him, dressed and gathered his belongings, saddled up Bray, and headed into the cold night to the cave - there was a fire around which all of the men, except Bermen, were sleeping. Bermen, whom he did not see at first, was seated in a nearby tree, training a notched arrow from his longbow on Eloi’s fine and handsome cranium.
"No need for that, my man!" Eloi told him.
"Hmmmmppphhh!" seemed to be the best he could manage, and he stomped off into the woods. Eloi made himself comfortable by the fire, and the next thing he know it was round two with the naked orcish mud-wrestlers....

Early on the townsfolk awakened, talking excitedly about the money. As the other villagers arrived to the task, they seemed to get the cave cleared out remarkably quick, with few casualties from the dreadful stench. From time to time though, Eloi found himself playing bouncer to the fights that seemed to break out from time to time.
“Damned fool peasants!” he thought.
Not a moment too soon there was a shout from the road, and Eloi eagerly took Bray out to where the party had halted in the copse of woods. Hamman seemed worried about Aranon, and Eloi soon gathered that he had not returned.
"What could have kept him from returning?" Hamman questioned. "Perhaps he has fallen foul of the Hordes, or even that woman he was chasing!"
Nobody seemed to have any answers, so they turned and headed onwards to Axewood.

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