Disclaimer:
Hello again! I'm back with the tenth part of NNT. First of all, (sigh! not again...) as mentioned before, this story is totally fictional and has no purpose whatsoever to imply that any member of the BSB is gay. Secondly, also as mentioned before, the setting of this story is 100% based on TSR, Inc. Novels, the Forgotten Realms. The story is written purely out of fun and leisure and I have no intention of publishing it anywhere or whatever. Hmm... what else? Oh yeah, this story also contain homosexual elements, so if you got a problem with it, hmm... too bad. Who asked you to come here anyway? However, if you are looking for some hot monkey sex scenes, sorry dudes, you'll be disappointed. I'm just not good in writing about that stuff :P Let just keeps the detailed sex stuff behind closed doors. But if you like stories that goes nice and slow and have more to offer than just sex, oh well, you might like this one (I hope).
Well! Now that is gone out of da way, lets get on with the story. Hope you enjoy it. If ya got comments, objections, suggestions, tips, death threats, boos, tomatoes or cabbages to throw or whatever, just write to me at zan@oceanfree.net
Anyway, I would like to thank everyone who e-mailed me of your comments and such. It's nice to know that you've enjoyed it. I live to serve (Hah!). All in all, thanks guys. I intend to make this story as long as I can. But ideas do tend to run out quickly. I can always think up of new ideas (if I can get my lazy mind going long enough. It really needs a kick or two at time but it has always serve me well... hmm... well, most of the time). But if you have any inputs, ideas or suggestions, feel free to drop me a note anytime you want, be it through e-mails, letters, pigeons, message in a bottle, Morse codes, talking drums, whatever.
Author's Note:
One last thing. We want to apologize to all our readers for being quiet for a long time. But things have been a little bit hectic ever since Drew has to be admitted to the hospital for his appendicitis surgery. Things get ever worst when he has some bad post-ops complications. But he's better now. In fact he's getting home today. He ask me to say a big HI to all of you by the way :)
Right! Enough mindless chatters and on with the show!
Drew and Andy
At the Friendly Arm Inn...
When Brian awoke, it was already early in the morning. He could see the first ray of the dawn coming through the window of his room. He could hear the soft hymn of the traveling priests of Lathander, as they perform their daily morning rituals dedicated to the God of Dawn and Renewal. He rose leisurely, stretching and yawning and wriggling between the warm sheets, luxuriating in what nine silver pieces a night could buy.
Finally, Brian sat up and looked around. His clothes were spread before the blazing hearth. He yawned, stretched and padded across the room, washing himself at the small fresh water basin and dressed himself for the day. From the two floors below, he could hear the innkeeper and the rest of the staff walking about as they prepare the inn for the day. He doubts any of the inn's present tenants are up at this early part of the morning.
He pulled on his woolen pants, stiff from drying. Instead of an ordinary tunic, he chose from his pack a new woolen robe. Its long sleeves tied around his wrists, hiding his arms completely. Today he would forget his problems for a few hours if he could.
He has bought a light half-armor before leaving Baldur's Gate and has been wearing it ever since. Although wizards cannot cast spells while wearing armor, the same is not applied to clerics. Clerics' spellcasting merely involve prayers and it does not involve complicated and specific gestures. These can be done easily even while wearing armor.
His armor is propped on the chair beside the table near the window. For an extra gold piece, the innkeeper was more than willing to polish and dry his armor. But tonight he would not be wearing it. Tonight he would forget his profession too. He wouldn't even bring his war-hammer with him. He wouldn't need it here.
Sarelle, Galadriel and Brian arrived at the Friendly Arm Inn late last night, after spending a night in Baldur's Gate. After the incident with the strange diviner in Baldur's Gate, things have been a little subdued between them. Galadriel has been more alert than ever, eyeing everyone warily as if expecting an attack at any moment. Sarelle keeps on looking at him strangely, as if unsure what to do with all of these. Brian himself feels like everyone in the world is watching him. Every once in a while, he would look behind and around him, as if expecting trouble to come anytime soon.
Sarelle took the divination far more seriously than any of them. At first, she was terrified of all these but now, after spending half a night in prayer and meditation, the priestess seem to have gained a deeper insight in these matter and hence became determined more than ever to ensure that Brian get through all of it safely. Perhaps she has received a visitation from the Great Mother herself that night, but whatever it was, Sarelle seems to be more determined than ever. Her power has also increased to a new height. She is more powerful than before and has gained new and more powerful spells. Brian deduced that she has gain sufficient experience after the defeat of the sea-demon to push her clerical ability to a higher level.
Galadriel too has reached a new height in her ability as a warrior. She is more agile than before and her aim in wielding a bow is becoming more and more accurate as time passes on. Being an elf, Galadriel still finds it difficult to adjust to the life of the city. Brian is not surprise, for in all her 200 years of life; her world has always been the peaceful tranquility of the Synnorian forest on the Moonshae Isles.
Brian paused at the window to look outside. He could see the sun beginning to rise, throwing the pink ray of the dawn across the sky. It has been raining last night while he slept for the ground was wet and muddy. Here and there, farmers and merchants wobble about lazily as they struggle to start the day. Brian smiled lightly. This is a world where magic exists and the gods governs the realms directly, yet people here simply lead simple lives. Brian couldn't imagine how his world would be like if magic exists there. Combined with the marvels of technologies, people in his world would have advance so far in their lives in ways that he couldn't even imagine. Perhaps it is for the best. Perhaps it is for the sake of the balance. Even with technologies alone, people in his world has caused extensive destructions, resulting in the loss of countless of lives - the nuclear holocaust is a good example. What would happen if magic exists in his world? Brian shuddered slightly at the thought of the possibility.
Everything in life must be in the right balance. While technologies rule in his world, magic is barred from there. While here, magic rules supreme, so for the same reason as in his world, technology is barred from this world.
From the window of his room, he could also see the innkeeper striding out of the front door, performing various chores to prepare the inn for the day. The Friendly Arm Inn is actually a small walled community dominated by a former castle that is now used as an inn. The Friendly Arm is generally used as a waystop for merchant caravans from Beregost to Baldur's Gate.
The Friendly Arm was at one time a hold controlled by evil priests of Bhaal, God of Murder, Assassins and Violent Death, led by the High Priest, Mericor. Mericor was then killed in human form and then later slain in undead form. In the process, most of the interior of the keep (and parts of the surrounding countryside) was destroyed. The ruined keep was then used as a waystop for both caravans and armies coming north, but in that time there was no local lord or guiding hand over the area.
About 20 years ago, the ruined keep was seized by an adventuring party led by a gnomish illusionist called Bentley Mirrorshade who even now remains as the innkeeper of the inn as well as the local leader of the Friendly Arm community. Bentley and his adventuring comrades chased out the remaining creatures dwelling in the keep, begins renovations and then establishing the Friendly Arm as an inn and meeting spot. Since that time, the Friendly Arm has grown in prestige and importance as a relatively safe haven and has been used by adventurers from the South heading to Waterdeep, and merchants from the northern climes heading to warmer markets in the South. Bentley also has a deal with most of the important powers in the South - they are allowed to quarter their troops nearby, provided that they do not 'smash the crockery'. In return, Bentley promises not to admit anyone claiming to be a descendant of the Tethyrian royal family. So the Friendly Arm Inn prospered and eventually become well known all across the Sword Coast cities and nations.
A knock on the door drew Brian's attention towards it.
"Come in."
Sarelle walked in with a cheery smile on her face. In the light of the morning sun, she looks very beautiful. He raven black hair sway slightly as she strode forward and her plain green robe seems to flow beneath her.
"Good morning." She said cheerfully.
"Geez, must you be so cheerful this early in the morning?" said Brian.
"Why shouldn't I be? Is it a beautiful morning is it not?"
"What's for breakfast?" asked Brian.
"Bread, bacon, cheese and egg. The innkeeper will bring it to us in a moment." She replied. She sat on his bed gently. "Ooohh!!! Your bed is more comfortable than mine!"
Brian laughed.
"Ah! You smiled. Finally!" said Sarelle.
"Where's Galadriel?"
"Downstairs. She went to see the local blacksmith to mend her armor. It was damaged during the sea-demon attack."
"I doubt if there is any blacksmith here who is skilled enough to mend the elven crafted armor." Said Brian.
Sarelle shrugged.
"Oh well, there is no harm in trying to find one. Anyway, the armor is not badly damaged. Just a slight dent at the side." Sarelle replied.
"So, how long are we gonna be staying here?" asked Brian.
"Just one night." Sarelle replied gravely. "We dare not stay at one place for long. The Friendly Arm might be well protected but it has too many cracks for any foe to sneak in. It's best if we keep on the move. The sooner we get to Shadowdale, the better."
"Where is Shadowdale anyway? How far do we still have to travel?" asked Brian.
"Still far enough to take about a month of traveling, Chauntea willing. The journey will be hard and perilous, Brian. We have to go through the bandit infested Woods of the Sharp Teeth, to the city of Berdusk. Then onward to the city of Iriaebor. We might be save there, for I have a friend living there. Branwen is a war-priestess of Tempus, the God of War and she has been looking after the Shrine of Tempus there for more then five years now. We have been friend for years and I'm sure we can find sanctuary at her abode. From Iriaebor, we must head through the Sunset Mountains, the Marsh of Tun, the Storm Horn Mountains and then into Cormyr."
"We may find sanctuary there, under the ever-vigilant watch of the Purple Dragons of Cormyr, but from time to time, evil can find it's way to seep into Azoun's Kingdom, so we must keep our guards up at all time. Then we must move on through the Thunder Peaks where agents of the Cults of Dragons and the Red Wizards of Thay hold sway. If we survive the journey, we must enter the Dalelands and on through the old Elven Court and the Cormanthor Forest."
Sarelle paused to look at Brian sadly.
"It would be a long and treacherous journey for all of us, I'm afraid Brian, with many foe awaits. If what the diviner say is true, then I doubt all of us will survive."
"Don't say that Sarelle. We will survive this! We will get to Shadowdale and when we get there we will find the rest of my friends and then we will seek out this Elminster and he will send us home!" Brian retorted firmly.
Sarelle merely smile sadly.
"Aye. Keep up with the faith, young Brian." She leaned on the bed and sighed softly. "The problem with all of you is that you have somehow unwittingly stumbled into the affair of the gods. No good things ever come when the gods are involved. Never."
"I've never asked for this, Sarelle." Said Brian. "We never asked to come into this world. We were minding our own business..."
"Yes, yes, yes, Brian. I am aware of that. You were whisked away from your world into Faerun against your will and without knowing any reason." Sarelle replied. "But it's no good complaining about what is in the past. Right now, we must get you to Shadowdale as quickly as possible. And then back to your own world."
This time it is Brian's turn to sigh.
"I'm going to miss you when that time come. Can't you come along with me?"
Sarelle smiled fondly and laughed.
"How sweet of you to offer." She smiled. "But you know the rules. This is not your world. But this is my world. A world where gods squabbles against each other and powerful mages strove to change the lands."
"And clerics roaming the world and meddle with everyone's affair." Brian joined her laughter.
"I did not!" Sarelle laughed.
The door opened again and Galadriel walked in. A serving girl followed behind her, carrying their breakfast tray.
"Fair morning, Sarelle and Brian."
"Did you found the blacksmith, Galadriel?" asked Sarelle.
The elven warrior shook her head mournfully as she help herself on the bacon and bread.
"Alas, none is skilled enough to master the art of elven craftsmanship, I'm afraid."
"Relax, Galadriel. The dent on the armor is not that bad." Said Brian. "So, what did you learn downstairs?"
Galadriel shook her head resignedly.
"Dire rumors fly free amongst the merchants and farmers. Some said a great black dragon roams the countryside. Some states that the priests of Malar have sounded the horn signaling the Great Hunt in the forests. Other rumors spokes of Zhentarim forces moving about in the countryside, attacking villages and unfortunate adventurers. Some shepherds claims to have seen strange beasts and undead monster roaming through the night."
"Five wanders now, but the shadow and chaos follows their footsteps." Sarelle murmured softly before looking at Brian. "It has begun."
"There's more. Said Galadriel.
"More?" asked Brian.
"Merchants from Cormyr spokes of gathering of armies, Zhentarim and Thay mostly, outside Cormyr. King Azoun is mustering the Purple Dragons and the war-wizards even as we speak." Said the elven warrior. "The lords of Waterdeep, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter, Silverymoon and other major cities of the Heartlands are on alert, each spokes of sightings of Zhentarim armies and their beholders allies. There has also been great stirring amongst priests of the evil gods, namely Bane, Shar and Talos. Finally, there is news from the Dalelands."
"What of the Dalelands?" asked Sarelle sharply.
"Shadowdale is besieged by forces of Zhentil Keep even as we speaks. And the Old Sage Elminster has been strangely silent and has not been seen for some time now." Galadriel replied calmly. "I'm afraid, our journey is going to be hard and bloody, Brian."
"The great war," Sarelle sighed. "Could Realmsdoom be upon us now?"
Brian could only stare at the elven warrior where he sat.
"God help us all if it is." He breathed at last. "But we must get to Shadowdale all the same. Can't you all see? The gathering of armies! The monster sightings! They are trying to stop us from reaching Shadowdale."
Galadriel nodded quietly.
They were interrupted by a sudden commotion that suddenly arises downstairs. Galadriel stood up gracefully, eyes flashing and in a single fluid motion, she drew her silver long sword. Sarelle and Brian jumped to their feet and peered out of the window. At the entrance of the inn, they could see a group of people gathering before the open door. Some seems to be carrying something into the inn. Brian and Sarelle continue to watch, trying to determine what is going on. Sarelle was about to ask Galadriel to go downstairs and investigate when suddenly; they were startled by a sudden thumping on their door.
"Mistress Sarelle? Mistress Sarelle, are you in?" they heard the urgent voice of Bentley the innkeeper.
Sarelle nodded at Galadriel and the elf opened the door warily. The gnomish innkeeper walked in hastily, his face grave.
"Pray to forgive me, Priestess of Chauntea, but I am in great need of your help," he said breathlessly.
"Calm down, Bentley. What can I do for you," asked Sarelle gently.
"Two men just arrived, priestess. One is mortally wounded. They were attacked by Zhentarim warriors." Said the innkeeper. "My wife, Gellana, the local priestess, is in Beregost at the moment, negotiation a treaty with the mayor of Beregost. We have no one to heal the man at the moment, save you. The man is at death door, priestess, and is in great need of healing magic. Would you save him?"
"But of course, Bentley. Of course! Lead me to him," Sarelle replied just as gravely.
"I'll follow you," said Brian.
The four of them strode out of the room, down the stairs and then walked along the twisted corridors and eventually into the common room. Galadriel walked in first, eyes wary and alert and her hands never stray far from the hilt of her sword. Bentley entered the room, followed by Sarelle and Brian.
As Brian enter the room, he saw a man garbed in a battle-mage robe lying motionless on one of the tables. A crossbow bolt sticks out of his chest. A young blond haired young man, garbed in a mud splattered mage robe, wept uncontrollably beside him as he cradles a small skull in his arms. Upon their entry, the young man looked up, and a familiar blue eyes and face greeted him. Despite the tears streak cheeks and dirt-smudged face, Brian's eyes widened in recognition and shock.
"NICK!!!" Brian cried out.
Nick tears laden eyes widened in recognition.
"Brian..." he whispered tearfully.
In the High Forest, in the North...
"By the Gods! Who could have done such thing to a druid?" asked Lamelle.
"Evil men to be sure." Said Ken tersely. "One that will feel the taste of my steel once I find him!"
"Think she'll live?" asked Kevin worriedly as he hovered over the crumpled body of the female druid. He knew some basic first aid treatment before he was whisked into this world. Beside him, Garth mumbled to himself as the cleric rummaged through his bag for healing potion. "The wounds are bad."
"Of course she'll live, if ye get out of my way for a breath or two!" Garth roared. "Keres! Come here beside me. I may need your paladin's healing ability should the wounds be too much for my healing spells to heal. The rest of you stand back and keep watch for any foe. Haste now! Her soul is slipping more and more away as time awasted!"
Lamelle, Kevin, Ken, Delg and Alvin stepped back and watched the surrounding warily. Keres knelt beside the cleric and took the healing potion from the cleric's hand. Paladins are warriors in nature. But in their case, they are a special type of warriors. They are warriors of virtue; holy warriors, to be exact - warriors who live for the ideals of righteousness, justice, honesty, piety and chivalry. They fight in the name of the deity they serve. Unlike normal warriors, they possess certain special clerical abilities granted by the deity they serve. In general, paladins have the ability to heal grievous wounds once a day. Other abilities includes turning away the dark forces of walking undead, detect the presence of any evil within their vicinity and create a holy barrier to protect themselves from any evil. Highly experienced paladins however, like Keres, has additional abilities like casting minor priest spells, calling upon the holy power of his or her deity to smite evil, calling upon his or her deity to grant divine courage which will gain the paladin immunity towards fear and finally gaining immunity towards any sort of disease.
Kevin slipped his hand on Ken's, trying to comfort him. Druids are great friends and allies to rangers. Both serve the same gods of nature and both seek to preserve the Balance and protect the majesty of nature. While druids are more spiritual and more secluded, rangers are more out-going and have no problem in mixing with other people living outside the forest. But the goals of these two are the same - both seek to preserve the natural order of nature.
Moreover, druids have a special place in Ken's heart. The half-elven ranger was raised by druids. Being the product of the rape of an elven maiden by a human, Ken was reviled by many of the elves where he was born, about a century ago, deep in the forest of Shilmista in the south. He was even reviled by his own mother and family, for to her, he merely serves as a reminder of the terrible incident that led to his birth. For ten years ever since his birth, the young half-elf has to endure continual humiliation, both physically and emotionally, until one day when the sad ten years old half-elven boy decided to leave the only home he knew and take his chances in the outside world. Into the forest he went, slipping through the wilderness alone as he sought his destiny until he found himself rescued from a hungry pack of wolves by a druid. The druid took him in and raised him like his own child, teaching him the faith of Mielikki and eventually shaped and honed his skills until he become what he is now, a half-elven ranger of no small skills with a great heart to match - a heart that Kevin has unwittingly managed to capture during the fleeting moment when they first met.
And now, a druid has been hurt. The very group of people whom he has sought to protect whatever the cost, lay bleeding and wounded before him. The assailant must be punished!
Kevin felt the half-elven ranger tensed and watched worriedly as he saw Ken's trembling grip on his long bow. Unconsciously, Kevin rubbed the back of his shoulder soothingly. Many times a night, they spent their time together, comforting each other when one of them is in distress. Many times a night, they spent in each other embraces, whispering promises to always be there for each other. Many times a night, they lay in each other arms, drawing strength from each other and bask in the glow of their love.
"Love?" Kevin whispered gently. "You okay?"
The sweet caress of his lover's voice lessened the anger within the half-elven ranger. His vision cleared and his gaze fell on the welcomed sight of his lover's emerald green eyes. And soon, all his anger dissipated. Such is the power of love.
"I'm fine now, Kevin." Ken replied softly. He unconsciously strokes the back of Kevin's hand. "I'll be fine as long as you are with me."
A soft glow spreading from Garth and Keres' hands over the druids body returned their attention to the scene before them. The soft blue glow continues to spread, as the cleric and the paladin whispered healing prayers to their respective deities. The cuts and wounds slowly close and knitted and the bleeding diminished. Color slowly returned into the druid's face and her breathing slowed and became more regular and peaceful. The glow vanished but the prayers continued on. Garth slumped backward, sweat trickled down his brow while Keres bent forward and fed some of the healing potion into the druid's mouth.
"Done," said Garth at last. "She'll live a little longer."
Almost immediately, the druid's eyes flared open in alarm and she gave a strangled cry.
"Run... must get... help... must flee... abomination... desecration... must... help... Silvanus... help..." she mumbled incoherently.
"Hold, good druid," said Garth gently. "Ye were wounded and unconscious. We healed ye. Ye must rest."
The cleric waved his hand over the druid frantic eyes and whispered a single magical word to induce slumber on the agitated druid. As the druid closed her eyes again, she muttered out desperately.
"Evil... great evil... befell... the grove has been desecrated... the archdruid and the Elders... dead... please... help us..."
The Company of the Red Wolves looked at each other upon this revelation in silence. Finally, Keres stood and turns to Kevin and Ken.
"We'll make camp here. Ken, scout the area for any clue as to what lay before us. Kevin, you follow him. As for the rest of you, keep a sharp look out."
Kevin and Ken nodded and slipped into the woods quietly. Alvin, Keres and Delg move around the clearing, setting up defenses around the camp while Lamelle helps Garth with the druid.
Mist swirled throughout the great forest as Kevin and Ken slid through quietly. The air grew colder and the shadow thickened as they progressed deeper into the forest. Here and there, thin beam of light pierce through the thick canopy, diminishing progressively as it passes through the swirling mist. But above all these, it is the progressively increasing feeling of evil that is bothering the two rangers. The feeling grew stronger and stronger as they move deeper into the forest. The mist thickened to the point where Kevin could barely see Ken beside him.
"Ken, where are you?" Kevin whispered softly when they lost contact for a brief moment. His mind is set to ease when he felt the half-elf gently caress at his right arm. "The mist is too thick. We cannot go further. We must get back."
"Aye." Came Ken simple reply and together they made their way carefully back the way they came.
A slight rustle in the distance somewhere to the right cause them to halt in their track and look around alertly. Ken raised his bow in readiness and slinked behind the trees, silently motioning Kevin to take cover. Kevin sank to his knees in the wet grass, ignoring the damp of the brushes and air. He nocked an arrow on his bow and held it readily. The dew made the grass about him glistened silver-gray. Kevin slipped the tail of his cloak in front of him and lay down upon it to wait. The unseen sun was brightening the mist, revealing the ground a few paces around him. Wet grass tickled his nose.
Kevin peered intently around. He has lost his sight on Ken, but he knew the half-elf is close by. They have gone out to scout before and have spent a lot of time learning how to work together, as lovers as well as adventuring comrades. He lay very still, watching and listening. The rustle has stopped but occasionally it would appear again. Someone is out there.
Then, with a heart-stopping suddenness, a dark armored warrior loomed out of the mist perhaps forty paces away. Another followed, and another, and judging from their unfamiliar armor, Kevin knew they are not Zhentarim warriors. They came in carefully in the wet grass, weapons ready, close together, not speaking.
Kevin tried to keep count. He did not want to creep out behind them only to find others behind her. If he were caught, he thought with a sudden chill, a quick death might be a kind end. Adventure? Aye, adventure.
He tossed his head in silence and counted the warriors. Like creeping shadows, they passed in front of her - sixteen, eighteen, twenty-one. Then a herd of mules passed, all loaded with chests and canvas sacks. Occasionally, Kevin could see glints of gold and diamonds peeking out of the sacks. Bandits then? No, they are too organized to be bandits. When he saw a lean figure garbed in a dark robe of a mage strode into view and passes by him, Kevin knew these are no bandits. Evil yes, but not ordinary bandits. So they are neither bandits nor Zhentarim, who could they be then? A group just as sinister no doubt, who would deal death to anyone without any hesitation or mercy. Kevin counted to fifteen before the procession ended. He waited for a space of two long breaths, fearing a rearguard.
His caution was rewarded when six silent bladesmen stalked into view, looking all about, swords drawn. One seems to stare at him all the while they passed. Kevin kept still, hoping he would not be too curious or too diligent. He was not. He drew a trembling breath and waited until he had drawn two more before he eased himself up and crept after them. He couldn't see Ken, but again, he could feel that he is near by and agreed with his notion to follow the warriors.
The mysterious warriors were heading roughly southward, deeper into the forest, towards the direction of the Star Mountains. They are moving rapidly despite their wariness, as people do who still have a long way to travel. An occasional tree loomed up out of the mist as Kevin followed them, cautiously working his way closer on the higher ground and carefully dropping back in wet areas where one slip and splash might bring them all down on him. He was soon soaked and shivering.
So this is what Delg meant when he said adventure usually means pain and weariness, both conveniently forgotten later, Kevin thought, recalling a fireside talk. Grinning to himself, he crept closer. He had seldom felt more alert, more alive, more excited.
'You never told me it was this much fun,' he chided Delg mentally as he climbed a little rise and dropped to his belly in the tall grass.
It was well he did. The mist rolled away briefly, revealing six warriors, standing just below the brow of the hill on which he lay. Mules were being led up the hill beyond. The land was rising, and the men were taking their treasure south. These must be the rearguard, Kevin reasoned. Then out of the darkness of the forest, a small bat-like creature swoops down from the sky and landed before the lean wizard, hissing and chattering excitedly. Whatever they creature says, Kevin could only guess, but whatever it was, the wizard stiffened and rounded towards the six rearguards. The wizard spoke to the rearguards coldly but in a low voice.
Kevin could hear the low mutter of their voices, but could not make out the words. He dared not crawl nearer. Three of them were deliberately peering his way.
The mist began to close in again. They were waiting here, probably planning some sort of trap for anyone following them. It would mean his death to come up over the ridge of the hill, even with the mist covering him. Kevin lay still on the damp ground and thought for a bit. What should he do now?
Without warning, a man loomed up out of the mist no more than two step away, strode past Kevin with the wet grass whispering around his boots, and was gone, walking back the way he had come. He held a strung bow and a shaft ready in one hand, and wore a long knife at his belt, but no armor. He looked young and bleakly confident. After a moment, another archer followed, and then four more, passing farther away. Kevin gasped in horror. They are heading towards the direction where Keres and the others are making camp. The archers were going to slay the company!
In his mind, he could see arrows leaping one by one from the mist to bring down Keres, Delg, Lamelle, Garth, Alvin and the druid - one by one, convulsed and writhing in the grass, their slayers quickly gone. Any chase would run straight into a storm of arrows.
How to warn the others? Kevin doubts he could get around the archers without being killed. There was only one thing to do, he realized with a sick, sinking feeling.
'Fun,' he reminded himself wryly as he rose out of the grass and turned, drawing his own blade and went off to battle.
He hurried forward as quietly as he could, picturing the faces of his companions as he strolled up to one of them with dripping blade and decapitated one of them. His stomach lurched at the thought, and he stared down at the blade, cold and heavy in his hands, with real revulsion.
He looked around the mist, feeling suddenly lost and helpless. A sharp blade is little comfort when you know you can't use it on anyone. Even less comfort once the 'anyone' realizes that. He stopped for a moment to lean against a gaunt and bare tree. And his arrows are also useless within this thick mist. Where is Ken? Sheathing his sword carefully, he looked over the tree. The wood was dead but damp; it broke with a dull sound, not the sharp crack he had feared. He held a curved, surprisingly heavy, twisted limb. Kevin hefted it a few time and then stalked on through the mist.
Kevin came upon him quite suddenly. The archer who had passed close to him was now standing alone, bow ready, listening intently. He heard Kevin and half turned. As his eyes met Kevin's and his mouth opened in surprise, Kevin leaped forward, heart pounding, and brought the tree limb down as hard as he could across his throat.
The force of the blow numbed his hands and knocked him off balance. He slipped in the wet grass and slid right beneath him, getting tangled in his legs. The archer made a horrible gurgling noise, and his knees hit Kevin's forehead hard. Dazed, Kevin lay staring up at the mist for a moment, the breath knocked from his lungs, his back and bottom aching. Then he heard thudding footsteps.
"Die!" a man's voice snarled close by. Kevin rolled to one side and looked up. Another archer was charging at him, a long, gleaming knife drawn to strike.
Kevin swore an oath as the knife leaped at his throat, so bright and so quick. He threw up his hands - the tree limb gone, his sword too slow to draw - and tried to jump aside.
"Ken! Help!" he cried out.
Too late. The archer's grasping hand caught his left shoulder as he shifted to the right. The cruel force of his fingers drove him back and spun him sideways. His biting blade stabbed again and again at his shoulder and back. Kevin cried out in agony at the burning, slicing pain, as they fell together on top of the sprawled body of the first archer. His shoulder felt wet and cold as the knife slid across it.
The man's angry face was inches from his own. Kevin struggled furiously to avoid the man's clutching hands and blocked the knife, clawing, biting and driving his knees viciously into him. Somehow, he got both hands on his wrist and forced the knife past him, but the man was stronger and he pulled it slowly around at Kevin again.
Then, the snarling face inches from his own gasped. The eyes darkened and blood dribbled from the lips. Kevin felt the man's strength ebb away and then strong hands lifted the man's weight from him. Through the bleary eyes, Kevin see the bright and terrible tip of an arrow sticking out of a dark, spreading stain on the archer's chest. His head lolled as he was lifted aside.
Anxious face looked down upon him. Kevin smiled weakly as he met Ken's grave eyes. He caught a painful shuddering breath and whispered,
"Ken. Thank god."
"Hush now, my love. Hold still while I look at your wounds." Ken replied gravely. Kevin noticed the body of the other two archers lying lifeless a distance away.
Ken lifted Kevin's tunic and touches the wound gently, examining it carefully. Kevin winced at the touch and Ken murmured something comforting as his fingers probe cautiously. Dimly he noticed tears welling in the half-elf eyes.
"Thank Mielikki. The wound is not too serious." Ken said at last. He fumbled at one of his belt pouches and produce flask of healing potion. "Drink. Quickly. You are losing blood."
Kevin drinks the healing potion and then lay down on the grass. Soon, his wounds began to glow with soft blue light and slowly closed and knitted itself. The bleeding stopped and the shrieking pain banished, only to be replaced with a gentle embrace of pure relief.
"Thanks Ken." Said Kevin. "I have no choice, they are heading..."
"Hush, now Kevin. I know where they are heading. You were right to stop them." Said Ken soothingly. "But all is still not well. One of the archers escaped. No doubt more will come. We must go back quickly and warn the others. Can you stand?"
Kevin nodded and rises to his feet.
"Who are those people?" asked Kevin as they tore through the woods.
"Warriors serving the Cult of the Dragons," Ken answered gravely. "Dangerous. Almost as dangerous as the Zhentarim."
They continue to run in silent, heading desperately towards the camp.
"The Cult of the Dragon?" Delg rumbled in annoyance. "By Clanggedin's twin axes, what are those lot doing here, in the middle of the High Forest? I thought they are holed up in the Thunder Peaks, half a world away!"
"Myra?" asked Keres.
The female druid looked up at him with tired eyes. It has been about five minutes since Ken and Kevin returned from their scouting mission and reported their encounter to Keres. The druid, already healed from her wounds was up and about by then. She seems to be a beautiful woman to begin with, after she has washed and clean herself. Her raven heir flows like a banner behind her and her skin is as smooth as silk. Lamelle has provided her with her own plain woolen robe to replace the tattered robe she previously wore.
"For centuries, the Druidic Circle of High Forest has tended the sacred grove of Silvanus which also houses a portal that leads into Thunder Peaks. At first, none but the archdruid and the circle of Elders know how to activate and open the portal. But one day, for reason unknown to us, the knowledge of the portal fell into the hands of an evil priest. We know not what vile god this priest serve, but last night, right in the middle of our ritual dedicated to Silvanus, we suddenly found ourselves besieged by legions of warriors and undead."
Myra's eyes began to well with tears.
"We fought and we slew, sacrificing our very life to preserve the grove, which is also one of the most holy site of Silvanus. But even with all of our faith bolstering our strength, even with the combined power and might of all the gathered druids of this forest, we found ourselves in the losing side. One by one, our brothers and sisters fell, their blood stained the holy ground."
"I fought beside the archdruid and the rest of the Elders and the remaining druids, but we were to overwhelmed. The evil priest has summoned a vile creature from the Abyss to fight with them, a creature so evil that even nature itself seems to recoil from it. The evil priest then opened the gate and immediately after the portal was opened, scores of warriors and mages serving the Cult of the Dragon jumped out and fought with them. Our numbers dwindled and with the mages on their side, we don't stand the chance. The holy shrine of Silvanus was desecrated and most of our brethren are dead."
"Archdruid Delben fell at last after fighting for more than an hour. Before he died, he commanded me to flee and seek for whatever aid I can find, even if I have to travel all the way to Silverymoon. I have no other choices. By that time, there were only five of us remaining and there were no hope of us winning. So I fled to carry out the archdruid's order while the other four fought on and sacrificed themselves to distract our foe and allow me the chance to escape. And I did. I found you. Please. You must aid us!"
By that time, Myra was sobbing uncontrollably. Lamelle sat beside her, murmuring comforting words softly. Keres contemplate in silent.
"So, the Cult has found a way to spread their base here, in the High Forest." Said Keres.
"Aye. And it would prove to be more convenient for them, for Thunder Peaks is continually under the constant watch of Cormyr and the surrounding Dalelands. Over here, they could carve an entire kingdom for themselves." Said Delg.
"And spread their menace to the surrouding cities, Silverymoon, Neverwinter and Waterdeep. They must be stopped!" said Ken.
"Must I remind you that this gate is also the gate we are seeking to get us to the Dalelands?" said Lamelle. "It seems that there is more obstacles we must get through than we thought to get to the gate."
"Well then, how are we going to achieve that? There are eight of us and hundreds of them." Said Alvin.
"Eh, come on now. We have encounter larger forces than this in the past, surely we can do the same for this one, eh, Red Wolves?" asked Garth.
"Aye. We can. But first we must p..." Keres was interrupted by a sudden flash of red light streaking out of the woods and then enveloping them for a moment before vanishing.
"What was that?!" said Alvin. Lamelle leaped to her feet.
"A Seeking spell!" the sorceress hissed.
Another flash, this time of an emerald radiance, over a small rise in the distance caused them to look up again, weapons and spells ready. The Company of the Red Wolves stared at the green light pulsing and growing stronger with each passing second. The emerald light then built into a shape of a thin, lean man. Then the green radiance flashed for a last time and then faded, revealing a lean robed figure that Kevin has seen before in the woods, his face hidden under the shadow of his cowl. With a slow, cold grace, the man pushed back the cowl and glared at the grimly.
The man is tall and thin, with exceeding long limbs and narrow through the shoulders. His lanky frame was swathed in the black-red robes of a necromancer, which swirled about him like storm clouds at sunset. A faint odor of a charnel house clung to him, whispering softly but unmistakably of death. By some coincidence of fate, the man was paler than a corpse, a true albino, with eyes the color of water and skin whiter than the underbelly of a fish. The black robes cast grayish shadows on his skin.
"Eww..." Alvin crinkled his nose as he saw the mage.
"Uh-oh," said Garth.
The albino mage smiled cruelly and then started to chants the spidery words of magic. His hands gliding smoothly like snakes as he cast a spell. A faint smell of sulphur filled the air and having faced many evil mages in the past, the company instantly knew what spell the mage before them is casting.
"SCATTER!!!" Keres shouted.
The mage pointed towards them and shouted the final syllable of his spell. From his pointing digit, a fireball shot forth, streaking gracefully through the air, trailing sparks of fire, towards the scattering adventurers...