I know this is why she fights me so. She hates me for what I did. Indeed, if I had it to do again I might have made a different choice. But I cannot. And I stand now alone to suffer my consequences.— Intercepted Correspondence #5
22 Bolgatide, 3811 AS
Cool, early morning wind rustled loose tent flaps as it passed. Morning dew laid thick on the dense clumps of short grass that encompassed First Caravan Crest, wetting Artyom's boots as he helped break down the camp. It was still another hour until sunrise, when they would have to be fully packed and on the move. Sunrises were beautiful here on the open fields of northern
Softor, where there were no significant mountains or treelines to block the spreading light. The thought made Artyom giddy.
By the time the tents were folded and the supplies loaded onto carts, the first rays of the Sun were cresting the horizon. Artyom smiled and raised his hands in greeting as warmth washed over him. Golden light pulsed from the tattoo on his right hand. Knowledge flooded his thoughts. He searched through that knowledge, allowing portions of it to imprint themselves on his mind.
Much of what he stored would sit unused in the back of his memory, but he prepared the knowledge anyway. It felt right to carry it with him, even if he knew he would not risk using it.
An hour passed while Artyom stood, arms raised, absorbing the sun's warmth. The ritual finished, Artyom clasped his hands together above his head, relaxed, and turned to rejoin the caravan. The Maidens were waiting patiently beside him, vigilant as always. The Hounds tended to their horses, who were excited to get started on the day's journey. Artyom smiled as the Outsiders concluded their own morning rituals.
They stood in a circle, though Artyom doubted that had been purposeful, each one focused solely on their own preparations. Yet, somehow, their movements, recitations, prayers, and mumbling worked together to make an incredibly beautiful experience. For a brief moment, Artyom shifted his senses, opening his mind and senses to the arcane. The group shone with a brilliant cascade of shifting colors, pulsating in time with their actions.
Silvery, arcane light flowed violently out from Durant from where he knelt, like a raging fire. Not angry, but energetic and strong, full of life. Bright sparks spun off from him in time with his murmured prayers, which Artyom noted were spoken in Gnoll.
Beside him, Eloria sat cross legged, one hand entwined in the grass around her, the other cradling a small flower. Beautiful, autumnal colors swirled around her. Streams of deep red and blue flowed up from the ground, brushing against her before returning to the earth, leaving small patches of flowers in their wake.
Across from them, Moshe stood, eyes rolled back in his head. Soirche, his familiar perched on his shoulder as an owl, whispering into his ear. Dark smokey clouds billowed off of him. Though they held no shape, they seemed to Artyom a face, large and foreboding.
Completing the circle, the twins, Silvertongue and Sibil stood within a large, ornate circle drawn in the dirt. Silvertongue played a haunting tune on his flute as his sister sang an accompaniment. Their song spun and twisted within their circle, drawing strange and exciting shapes with its magic. Feeling the magic of the tune pulse in his chest, Artyom wondered if they realized the gravity of what they sang. It had been a very long time since he had heard a song in that tongue.
Even Sadon joined the circle, though his movements and prayers were less practiced and precise than the others', there was a deftness to the way his hands traced the runes on his anvil necklace, and his thumb glowed and flickered with warm, orange light.
Together, their rituals glowed and pulsed in a cascade of color and for a moment Artyom was stunned. Each of them was filled with such passion, such determination. Then, suddenly, it was over. The Outsiders blinked their eyes back into focus, stood, and stretched. Just like that, the magic faded. Within seconds they went their separate ways, gathering their supplies in preparation for the journey. "Amazing, isn't it?" Maiden Lydia's voice was quiet behind him. Artyom nodded silently. "I've seen a lot of things in my time, priest. A lot of people. It's pretty rare to find a group like that," Lydia continued, "Stars be helped if they ever learn to work together." With that, she replaced her helmet and rejoined the other Maidens.
Artyom took a deep breath. Lydia had no idea how right she was.
A couple quick shouts from Durant and the caravan began its trek. Artyom made sure to enjoy the warm, Spring air while he could. In the distance, The Wall loomed over the horizon. Even from here, Artyom could feel the darkness of the pass, washing like a flood down the mountain slopes. It was waiting for him. He shivered and squeezed his left palm tight.
The morning passed quickly. Twobridge's well-tended boardwalk thunked beneath the horses' hooves. Merchants hurried about the markets, making last minute deals on their way out of the town. Clerics of the city's Outpost worked the farms outside the town. Sadon waved excitedly to the workers as they passed. His awkward enthusiasm left a trail of smiles and giggles behind them. Several of the Hounds grinned and chuckled at the sight.
By the time the sun reached its zenith the boardwalk had given way to packed earth, and the flat farmlands to rolling, grassy hills. The path was just large enough to fit the wagons, and there were few ruts to stick the wheels. After a brief discussion, Eloria, her leopard, and Moshe moved to the front of the caravan, vanishing into the tall grass to scout ahead.
Conversation dwindled as the farms faded into the landscape behind them, giving way to clopping hooves and swishing grass. Soldiers surveyed the hills as they passed. Other than a warm breeze, the day was still and quiet. Clopping horses, creaking wagons, and clanking armor would be audible from far off, and their path wove between the hills, not over them. With each passing hill their visibility decreased.
An owl dove down from the sky and landed on Durant's shoulder, whispering into his ear. Durant whispered some orders to the Hounds before approaching Artyom.
"Eloria and Moshe have encountered some bandits along the road. They were not seen, so don't worry. They provided a distraction for the bandits, so we should be able to pass in peace. You may see some fire. That is intentional, nothing to worry about." He gave Artyom a toothy grin and Artyom nodded. Their small army would have no trouble dispatching a few bandits, but he was glad to avoid bloodshed this time.
The afternoon progressed in much the same way as the late morning. Weaving between hills, anxiously watching the crests for signs of enemy movement. If the Outsiders' information was right, then a group of hobgoblins was ahead of them. Hobgoblins who served Denol. Artyom did not doubt that the creatures knew about his caravan. Denol had always been crafty, and had never been one to avoid confrontation.
An uneasy dread began to settle over the soldiers as the path wound between large, grassy, rolling hills. The area was eerily quiet, despite the warm, southerly breeze rustling the grass, and the thumping and clanking that marked the caravan's passage. Soirche took off from her perch on Moshe's shoulder, silent and quick, and Moshe's eyes glazed over. Eloria, nearly invisible in her cloak, ducked silently into the grass to scout ahead. Durant frowned, scanning the nearby hillsides.
Several long minutes passed before Moshe's eyes snapped back to lucidity. He and Durant shared a look as Moshe pointed to one of the hills up ahead. Durant nodded and started whispering orders to the soldiers, "Ambush. Surround the scholars. Get ready."
As if in response to Durant's command, the grass all around them began to ripple as dark shapes started hurrying toward them through it. From somewhere behind the enemy's lines Moshe's voice called out in goblin, shouting false orders among the enemy's troops. Durant's whispers became shouts as the first of the goblins poured out of the grass, yelping and singing with excitement. With a series of clinks and thumps the goblins smashed pitifully against the soldiers' formation.
On the left flank, most of The Hounds had already dismounted to reach the goblins, forming a wall of spears and mail. At the front, the Iron Maidens were a blur of steel among the enemy, chatting casually as if by the fireside. On the right flank, Durant roared, his three-headed, magical flail passing through goblins as if they were made of air. At the rear, the twins threw fire and lightning among the enemy, singing and dancing to a merry jig. Artyom simply watched from inside the protective circle.
Yes, he thought,
if we have any chance at all, they are the ones who will give it to us.
Suddenly, amidst the seemingly constant onslaught of goblin warriors, a group of bugbears in spiked armor and shields burst from the grass on the left flank. They dove eagerly at the line of Hounds, slashing and punching their way through. For a brief moment, the line broke, and goblins flooded into the circle. Silvertongue flailed wildly at Sibil, who shouted warning to Artyom and the scholars as the goblins struck. Artyom hated killing. He had tired of it long, long ago. He swung his sword half-heartedly at the approaching goblins, but they were too quick. Several of them jumped at him, biting with their overly-large, toothy maws.
Before Artyom could so much as blink, Durant was at his side. Blasts of divine light covered his weapons as he tore through the goblins. Soon, the battlefield grew quiet once more as the few remaining goblins fled back into the grass.
Artyom stood up from where he lay on the ground, uncertain of when he had fallen, and thanked Durant, who was staring intently into the distance behind Artyom. Turning, Artyom saw a vicious looking hobgoblin atop a particularly tall hill a couple of furlongs to the west. It had dark tattoos running down its face and right arm, and it stood in the stirrups of its warg mount, seemingly meeting Durant's gaze. From a pole on its saddle it flew a black banner, emblazoned with a red fist within a red circle. The device of Denol. Suddenly, it whistled to its mount, which turned and rode off into the hilly landscape, followed closely by a cohort of hobgoblin bodyguards. "He will be back. I believe that was a test." Durant said, and turned back to the caravan.
"What kind of test?" Eloria now stood at the edge of the tall grass, panting slightly, hair tousled, chakram in hand. "Whatever it was, you all seem to have made short work of it."
"An ambush," Durant responded, "Weren't you scouting ahead?"
"Well, yes. But I was waylaid by this old fellow and his friend. I believe they were searching for you." She stepped aside to reveal a gnome, hogtied and face down on the dirt. He had a tall, though thoroughly ruffled, cone of purple hair and an overly large mustache, but was otherwise dressed for hiking. He flinched when he saw Durant's frown.
"Yes. Yes I do." Durant stepped forward and knelt until his face was just above the gnome's. When he spoke, his voice was a menacing growl. "Listen, friend. I told you last time we met that I would have limited patience with you and your comrade, Thalion. That patience has just run out. So tell me. If I let you go, am I ever going to see you again?"
The gnome's pale complexion paled yet further before the paladin's wrath. "N-n-n-no, sir, um- mister- um- no. No, never again, nope. Not ever."
"That is good. Because if I ever see you again," Durant pressed a paw against the gnome's head, "It will be the final time." The gnome simply nodded and quivered.
"Are you sure Durant?" Eloria looked concernedly at the gnome's bindings, "We might be able to glean some useful information from him if we keep him prisoner."
Durant stood and sighed heavily. "That is true, but to be honest I would really rather not deal with him. We have more important matters to attend to."
Eloria nodded thoughtfully, hesitated, and untied the gnome, who scuttled clumsily into the grass, and began coiling the rope.
"And Thalion?" Durant asked.
"Same as last time." Eloria said without looking up.
Durant frowned, rolling his shoulders. "Well then. I assume we will see him soon enough. In the meantime, let's take a quick rest before moving on. I think it is about time for lunch." Nodding to himself, he relayed the orders to the soldiers.
Eloria hung the coiled rope on her backpack and was smoothing her hair when Moshe suddenly appeared out of a nearby shadow. "You know," he said, noting Eloria's glare and drawn weapons with a slight grin, "We could keep the bodies."
"What?" Eloria asked, re-sheathing her weapons.
"Keep the bodies," Moshe repeated, "For Blorgat."
Eloria paused, eying the goblin sideways. "For food?"
"Yes."
"As payment for passage?"
"Yes."
"Ah, because he is a hill giant."
"Yes- why do you make me repeat myself?"
"That, my friend, just might work!"
"Yes. As I said."
"Let us tell the others. We should also probably make sure that nobody is seriously injured." Moshe nodded, and the two made their way over to where Durant was shouting orders.
Casualties were minimal. A few scratches and bruises among the scholars and one minor injury among The Hounds. Artyom tended those who would let him, then sat down for lunch. Captain Ellivrek sat heavily down beside him, gnawing on a stick of jerky. "Glad to see you're okay. Saw those gobbos gnawin' on yer extremities," He pointed at the tooth marks in Artyom's gambeson with a grin, "You'll have to get that fixed later." Artyom nodded and opened his mouth, but the gruff soldier was not finished, "Hey, did you hear Eloria say that she was attacked by Thalion? I heard he's a member of the Path of Blood." Captain Ellivrek eyed Artyom out of his peripherals.
"The Path of Blood is after Eloria?"
"Oh no, not Eloria. Durant!" Captain Ellivrek chuckled.
"Durant? How did he manage to make such powerful enemies?" Artyom had known of Thalion for some time, though admittedly it was mostly bits and pieces from fireside chats. A well known bounty hunter by all accounts, he was a boisterous half elf with a propensity for dramatic appearances. From what Artyom could gather, his most notable quality was that Eloria had killed him. Twice. The idea did not seem to bother the strange bounty hunter.
"No one knows. But most of us are pretty sure he angered an elf noble at some point. I hear he's originally from Alaria. Well, as much as anyone can be 'from' Alaria." He made air quotes with his fingers. "But you know what I mean. Anyway, whoever it is, they must have a lot of money to hire Thalion. They say he can't be killed." Abruptly, the captain stood and walked back from where he had come, shouting to one of his subordinates about proper horse care. Artyom sighed and stared into the sun.
They will have quite the mess to untangle someday, won't they.
Half an hour later they resumed their journey. The sun was now high in the sky, and its heat was only opposed by a cool wind that came steadily down from the approaching mountains. The Wall loomed ever closer as they approached, and Artyom could not help but feel a heavy sense of foreboding. Horrible things had happened in those mountains. Things, and creatures. Nonetheless, they had to press on at a fast pace. A thunderhead had appeared in the east, crackling with occasional bursts of lightning and thunder, growing larger as it approached. "
By the time the sun was low on the southern horizon, The Wall towered above the caravan. Its peaks were hidden behind a thick ceiling of clouds. The cool breeze coming from the mountains was now a consistent, cold wind. The range was painted in stripes of red and black in the light of the setting sun, accented by the occasional glimmer of snow from behind the low hanging clouds. Blorgat's Falls roared ahead of them, feeding a small river that blocked entry into The Wall. The falls itself flowed from a large pool about fifty feet up the mountainside.
At the river's edge they paused and dismounted. The falls itself was the last in a series of waterfalls that cascaded down the mountainside. Artyom could feel the cold water pulling the day's heat away downstream, adding to the mounting cold of evening. He glanced back toward the storm clouds in the east. They had moved south, now covering most of the south-eastern horizon, and were already blurring the landscape beneath them with heavy rainfall. Eloria was also watching the storm's progression, and was now scanning the landscape with a measure of apprehension. "We are short on time. We cannot afford to linger here."
Artyom tilted his head at the ranger, "The storm has passed, has it not? I would imagine that the people of Twobridge will be taking shelter before long."
Eloria nodded slowly, still watching the storm's path. "Yes, they will be feeling it soon. As will we, not long after. Where we now stand is the lowest in the series of long, water-carved troughs that give this land its shape. When the water from that storm flows, it will flow here. We are standing in a flood basin. We have," Eloria trailed off, her eyes seeming to glaze over for a long moment, "An hour. If we do not cross into the mountain pass by then- well, let us cross into the mountain pass by then." With that, the two turned back to the caravan.
Several of the soldiers and scholars had begun to set up camp, and the cooks had already begun building campfires. There was some grumbling when the soldiers realized their hard earned meals would be postponed, but Artyom soon had them re-packing their tents and supplies, and mounted once more.
The Outsiders, in the meantime, had approached the falls. It was said to be the "property" of the eponymous hill giant named Blorgat. They took turns shouting up to the top of the falls, where two large boulders guided the water's flow. For two long minutes there was no response. The horses were getting anxious, sensing the impending danger. Then, one of the large boulders atop the falls shifted and rolled out of view. A deep, gravelly voice boomed and echoed from atop the falls, startling some horses. "Who- er- who- um-" There were some scrambling noises, like stone scraping stone and splashing in water, "Who- um- Dares see the, er- approach the falls of Blorgat?" Though menacing in tone, the uncertainty in the words largely thwarted any attempt at intimidation.
"Was he asleep?" Moshe asked with a grin.
"Hill giants usually are," Eloria answered, grinning back, "They are lazy, gluttonous creatures." Then she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted up the falls, "Ríkr Blorgat, fá til fjölgoblinnr vagon, leyfi þinn svát vaða watn!"
"You speak giant?" Moshe asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Of course," Eloria answered, "I have been studying the creatures for quite some time. It is a fascinating language, though it lacks the elegance of elvish."
"It would." Moshe said. "Would you please tell him to speak common? I have no idea what he is saying."
Eloria nodded and did as requested.
Blorgat laughed, "Munu- er- yes. Common. Anyway, food? You bring food?"
"Yes," Moshe responded, "Lots of food. Fresh goblins, lightly fermented in the day's light."
The others looked inquisitively at Moshe, who shrugged, "Are you saying you have never considered cooking one before?"
Durant opened his mouth, hesitated, and shut it again, shaking his head. Silvertongue and Sibil shrugged. Eloria glanced worriedly at the storm behind them. When Blorgat had thought on their offer for several minutes before finally responding. "I was really in the mood for some, um- venison."
Eloria spoke next, pointing to two deer carcases that were draped over the wagon of goblins, "We have venison for you as well. Only the fines, from the southern regions of this land."
Moshe spoke again, "We may not have very much venison, but I assure you, these goblins are quite tasty for their size. A perfect to addition to these fine deer. Plus, we have quite a few. See?" He pointed at the wagon behind him, which held a large pile of goblin corpses. "They are a fine addition to an exquisite meal." Blorgat hesitated, considering his offer, but clearly unconvinced. Moshe saw this and added, "We are also hunting a group of goblins that has already passed up into the mountains ahead of us. If you let us through, you are welcome to the bodies of all that we slay. It is a large group too."
Blorgat thought again. It was an excruciatingly slow process. He seemed almost to be arguing with himself about the virtues of goblin meat vs venison. This final argument seemed to have swayed him though. Finally, he responded, "Okay, yes. Goblins sound good for today. Many goblins. Yes. Goblins are good. Come on up. I accept your offer."
There was an audible sigh of relief among the caravan with the response. The Maidens, and most of The Outsiders, took their hands off of their weapons and hefted their backpacks. A loud crashing noise bounced from the cliffside as Blorgat rolled the large boulder from one side of the waterway to the other, diverting the flow of the falls so that it passed west instead of east. The water from the river drained, revealing a smooth, stone pathway that seemed to be of the same stone as the mountainside.
The caravan crossed the riverbed without incident, and climbed to the top of the falls to bring Blorgat his payment. The giant sampled the goblins, tasting them as a noble might test an expensive wine before nodding and picking up the corpses. Without a word he carried them over to a small cave on the other side of the pool that fed the falls and began to eat.
They hiked up the mountain for another half hour until the sun had fully set. Then they set up camp on a flat area beside the path and settled down for the day. Far beneath them, a surge of water had flooded the lands below Blorgat's Falls. Much of the water had receded, flowing east with the riverbed, but the land below was still flooded, and would remain so for many hours.
Atop the ridge where they made their camp, the cold wind from the mountaintops had grown to a strong breeze. It seeped through the fur coats and into the bones.
This is just the beginning, thought Artyom as he settled down in his tent for the night. There was something eerie in the breeze. An unnatural quality that hung in the frigid air and sunk into the bones. He had felt it from the moment they crossed the riverbed. Like stepping into a dark, frozen stream that dulled his connection to Cirethoel's warmth. A long, long forgotten memory floated to the surface. He had felt this soul-erasing cold before, so long ago that he had almost forgotten.
We stand now on the banks of the river of Death. Cirethoel save us, what have I gotten us into?
That night the caravan slept uneasily. Now their journey had truly begun. Their first real opponent, whatever it was, awaited them in the mountains high above.
