Part the First: Head-to-Head
14 Mirtul, Morning – Gillian’s Hill
Scalrag had visited Gillian’s Hill once before. Well, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he had once raced through the hamlet on a stolen horse in the dead of night, less than an hour ahead of a bounty hunter in service to a Daggerford merchant who did not appreciate his new nickname – “Master Cuckold” – nor Scalrag’s part in his gaining it.
At any rate, the place had seemed idyllic enough, and so it came as a shock to see it now: What once had been the pastoral home of barely eighty people was now a disorganized encampment of some six hundred refugees or more. It was scarcely possible to walk in a straight line without pushing people aside, and the noise – what a din! Men arguing, women weeping, children shrieking, animals cawing, mooing and bleating. The only thing worse was the smell: heaped trash, streams of waste and the sticky stench of unwashed bodies, all laced with the unmistakable tang of fear.
But up ahead, an oasis: a small shop, titled Tasha’s Trinkets – and not a soul within a dozen yards of the door. While Fauss and Bjorn elected to press on towards the town’s famous library, Scalrag and Jandar made for the store; Dudley was already off on his own, animatedly interviewing first one refugee then the next, looking for news of his beloved sister Matilda and her big, black dog, Ned.
Inside, Tasha’s Trinkets was a confused mess of mismatched shelving, tables and overturned boxes, all heaped high with the most remarkable collection of tchotchke that Scalrag had ever seen. He felt an immediate urge to possess it all, and was so enthralled that he didn’t notice the waifish girl behind the cluttered counter.
“Welcome,” she said, not looking up from a small book. “I’m Penelope. Let me know if you need anything.”
Scalrag nodded in greeting and began to wander the store. To his right, Jandar was already digging into an old chest.
Scalrag’s gaze flitted from one bauble to the next, unable to decide where to begin. As he turned first one way and then the next, his hand tipped something over. Looking down, he saw a chess piece cast in glass lying on an old book. He examined the piece – a knight – and found it remarkably similar in design to the rook he’d carried in his pocket since he’d unthinkingly swiped it from a merchant’s stall a decade earlier. He blinked and took a closer look at the book the knight had been resting on. Based on the language and various illustrations, it was a martial manual of some sort – perhaps a primer for young knights. Scalrag tucked it under his arm.
Suddenly it was hours later, and between them Scalrag and Jandar had amassed a small pile of curios, which they laid out on the counter. “How much?” both men asked at once.
Penelope looked up from her book (for perhaps the first time since they’d entered) and blinked. “Oh, you’re still here. How nice.” She glanced at the items before her and sniffed. “I just watch the store,” she said. “You’ll have to speak to grand-mama to settle any purchases.” She set aside her book, reached under the counter and placed a melon-sized silk bag upon the counter. She gave both men a sideways glance. “You haven’t been here before,” she observed. “So brace yourselves. Grand-mama can be … intimidating.” Then she settled into an over-sized leather armchair, closed her eyes, took a deep breath – and went suddenly limp.
“Hey – are you alright?” Jandar asked, concern writ across his rugged features. He might have vaulted the counter then and there, had Scalrag not reached out and grabbed his arm.
“Jandar,” Scalrag said, his eyes fixed on the silk bag, “I need you to be cool, okay?”
The barbarian turned to demand an explanation – and saw that the bag had fallen open to reveal its contents.
“I-is that…?” Scalrag began.
” … a leering skull set with jewels in its eyes and mouth.” Jandar confirmed.
Penelope gave a sudden shuddering gasp and twitched in the chair, soundlessly working her jaw as one might do after being punched in the mouth by the husband of a lady who, you’re sorry to say, really is shaped like a barrel of mead.
Her eyes still closed, Penelope began to speak in a voice that was most certainly not her own.
WHO COMES TO BARTER WITH TASHA?
“Er, Scalrag and Jandar,” the rogue replied uncertainly. “We are adventurers who wish to purchase some of your fine wares, Madame Tasha. And may I just say,” he added foolishly, “that you look great.” Beside him, Jandar sighed and rolled his eyes.
DO NOT MOCK ME, MORTAL.
“I’m not,” the now-committed Scalrag protested, “You are the finest-looking skull I have ever seen. I love what you’ve done with the jewels. The ruby fronts are just incredible.”
ENOUGH. BARTER OR BEGONE.
Jandar pushed his companion aside and pointed to a trio of items: an engraved copper collar, an ivory pawn, and a jar containing what looked worryingly like a thick, forked tongue floating in a viscous amber fluid. “This is what I want,” he said and placed a small gem on the counter. “Will you accept this in trade?”
AH, MOONSTONE. MANY USES. FOR THIS, YOU MAY HAVE THE TORC. TAKE ALSO THE PAWN, WHICH IS WORTHLESS TO ME.
“Hmph, I accept,” Jandar said and lifted the collar to the light. The inscription upon it read, The white birds will vanish from the north and a great evil will die and be reborn. Shrugging, the Rashemi put the collar around his neck. Of its own accord, it cinched itself closed and Jandar felt a static charge from his feet to his scalp. Something had changed – for the better, he felt.
Although the head did not move, Scalrag now felt Tasha’s unearthly attention upon him.
AN INTERESTING SELECTION REMAINS. WHAT DO YOU OFFER IN TRADE?
Scalrag looked at the items. In addition to the floating tongue, the glass knight and the old book, he had also chosen a petrified rose and a firefly preserved in glass. “Well, I have quite a bit of money here,” he answered, fumbling for his purse.
COIN? HOW DULL.
“It’s legal custom,” Scalrag sniffed defensively. “Accepted by every merchant in the land.”
DO I STRIKE YOU AS ONE CONCERNED BY THE LEGALITIES OF THE MORTAL WORLD?
“Er, well …”
INTRIGUE ME, HUMAN. OR LEAVE EMPTY-HANDED.
Scalrag scowled. “Alright,” he said, reaching into his pack. “You want to be intrigued? Then tell me what you think of this.” He placed the music box upon the counter.
In her armchair, Penelope let out a low hiss.
YOU OFFER THIS IN TRADE? DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS? Tasha made no effort to hide her incredulity.
“Sister, you have no idea what I know about this thing,” Scalrag said smugly.
VERY WELL. THE ITEMS ARE YOURS.
“Now hold on,” Scalrag said, raising a finger. “We both know that this box is worth more than what’s currently on the counter. I think we need to -“
WHAT MORE DO YOU REQUIRE?
Scalrag paused and chewed his lip. This was going better than he’d expected. “Uh, I want your rarest and most mysterious coin,” he announced.
AGREED.
A foot away, a small box filled with assorted coins began shaking, and a single copper coin rose out of the box, rolled itself along the counter, and came to a stop in front of Scalrag.
“Okay, “he said, duly impressed. “I also want those charms on the shelf over there. The whole set.”
ACCEPTABLE.
One by one, the little charms – carved from wood, stone and bone – popped themselves into a small leather pouch, which then leaped toad-like across the floor and into Scalrag’s hand.
“Now,” he pressed, growing cocky. “I want you to answer a question.”
AH, SO YOU VALUE MORE THAN JUST THE MATERIAL. INTERESTING. KNOWLEDGE IS PRECIOUS. I WILL ANSWER YOUR QUESTION AND SURRENDER THE ITEMS YOU HAVE CHOSEN, IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR TREASURE. DO YOU ACCEPT?
Scalrag sensed that he had pushed Tasha as far as was advisable. “Yes, I think we -“
THE BARGAIN IS STRUCK.
An absolute silence descended on the shop. It endured for a long moment before Scalrag finally spoke.
“That didn’t happen with Jandar…?”
SOME ARRANGEMENTS ARE MORE BINDING THAN OTHERS. Tasha chuckled; the sound made Scalrag queasy.
ASK YOUR QUESTION.
Scalrag chewed his lip and thought of the treacherous djinn from issue 89 of Ragnar the Unchained, remembering how it had been crucial to word one’s wishes very carefully.
He took a breath. “Where can I find Matilda of Bowshot, daughter of Duddle?” he asked, speaking deliberately.
There was no answer. Penelope sat in the chair, breathing steadily. Jandar shifted impatiently. Outside, a goat walked up to the shop window, peered inside for a moment and then trotted off.
Scalrag leaned in close to Tasha. “Uh, hello?” he said into the skull’s open mouth. “Is this thing on?”
Penelope gasped. Scalrag jumped back as if he’d been bitten.
DRAGONSPEAR.
“As in, Dragonspear Cas-“
OUR BUSINESS IS CONCLUDED. PENELOPE WILL SHOW YOU OUT.
HAVE A NICE DAY.
Penelope’s eyes fluttered open and she rose from the chair, stretching and rubbing the back of her neck. She nonchalantly wrapped the head up in the bag and returned it to its hiding place behind the counter, as if this were no more unusual than sweeping up at the end of the day.
“Are you okay?” Scalrag asked.
Penelope nodded and smiled. “Mm-hmm. Just a little nap. How did things go with grand-mama?”
“Weird,” Jandar answered.
“Oh good,” Penelope said, and returned to her book.
Part the Second: Reunions & Roses
14 Mirtul, Afternoon – Gillian’s Hill
As Jandar and Scalrag exited the shop, a bell sounded nearby. A commotion began, somewhere near the town center. When they arrived, Bjorn was already there, along with Fauss, who seemed in a foul mood.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” Scalrag asked the cleric.
“Molly – my shieldmaiden – is still in the library,” Bjorn replied, referring to the nordling refugee who had started following him around like a fawn. “We found a most remarkable tome, and she is transcribing it for me.”
“Cool story, bro,” Scalrag said, and jerked his head towards Fauss. “What’s got his goat?”
Fauss glared at him. “I was in the middle of some very important research,” the elf said testily, “when this racket began. I would have ignored it, but with the enemy ever on our heels, I thought it best not to, lest I find myself trapped alone inside the library.”
“So what’s happening?” Jandar asked, cutting to the chase.
The question was answered when Dudley suddenly appeared. “My friends, come quickly! Father Arno says Something Bad has happened at the Temple of Chauntea. We must investigate and chastise those responsible, so that the refugees here will know that Good Usually Triumphs!”
As he finished speaking, there was a rumbling bark, and an immense black mastiff lopped into view, charging directly at Dudley. Scalrag fumbled for his sword. “Look out!”
Dudley turned towards the dog, smiled and threw his arms open, scooping the animal up in a huge embrace, and receiving a number of sloppy licks in return. After a moment, Dudley set the dog down and patted it on the head.
“Scalrag, do you not recognize Ned?”
“Uh…”
“This is Ned, my sister Matilda’s big black dog!”
Scalrag took a step back. “That’s … great, Dudley.”
“I know. Ned, this is my good friend Scalrag. Say hello, Ned!”
The dog fixed Scalrag with a stare and flattened its ears.
“Oh ho,” Dudley exclaimed. “I think he must like you, Scalrag – he does not do that for anyone else!”
“Er, yeah, great,” Scalrag said, trying to keep Bjorn between himself and the beast. “Listen, Dudley, I have some news: I think Matilda is being held in Dragonspear Castle.”
“So too my wychlaran, Fyevarra,” Jandar said somberly.
Bjorn scratched his chin. “And perhaps our missing Jessiclaire.”
Fauss narrowed his eyes. “How do you know this, Scalrag?”
“It’s a long story …”
“We do not have time to tell stories, Scalrag!” Dudley interjected. “We must go to the Temple and right the wrong done there – and then we will make haste to this Castle you mentioned to save Jessiclaire and Fyevarra and Matilda, who is my sister and will want to see Ned, her big black dog who has found me because he is such a clever dog, aren’t you, Ned? Yes, you are!”
While the rest of the party headed for the Temple, Scalrag first made a detour to the makeshift clinic on the edge of the village. Here Lysette the Apothecary brewed simple teas and remedies to ease the peasants’ suffering, while Shiana tended to minor injuries and wounds. Scalrag found the women taking a well-earned break and asked Shiana to speak with him in private.
“Is everything alright?” she asked as they stepped into the shadow of an old shed.
Scalrag nodded. “Oh yeah, we’re great. Are you guys okay? Things going alright?”
Shiana looked over her shoulder. “We’re very busy, Scalrag. Many need our help.”
He nodded again. “Right, of course. Sure. Um, look, I know you’re busy and everything, but I wanted to tell you … I feel really bad that all this has happened.”
“I don’t…?” Shiana said, cocking her head.
“This whole gods-awful mess with the war, you know? I can see you’re a good person, a decent person, and I don’t think it’s fair that you’ve had to deal with so much death and horror by yourself.”
She put a hand on his arm. “The gods do not give us more than we can endure,” she said sagely.
“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” he began, then thought better of it. “Never mind. Look, what I do know is that you deserve a better deal than you’ve got. I can’t change what’s happened, but maybe I can make things a little less bad. So I got you this.” He held up the petrified rose. Shiana’s eyes went wide.
“I saw it and thought of … oh gods – is this, like, a deadly insult where you’re from?”
“N-no!”
“Okay,” he smiled nervously, “So maybe you could take it? Because you look a bit freaked out.”
She reached out and took the rose, examining it carefully. “Petrified – amazing.”
“That its beauty may never fade,” Scalrag said, letting the implied compliment hang. Shiana smiled prettily at him, and he gave a mental fist-pump. Nailed it.
She sighed. “Oh, Scalrag – I don’t know what to say. I’ve misjudged you.”
His smile froze. “What?”
“I was speaking with Mosely earlier and we got to talking about your little company and he mentioned that you -“
I’m going to kill him. Scalrag stepped in close to Shiana, taking her hands in his. “Mosely and I are … old friends. Always giving each other a hard time, you know how it is. Now that you’ve heard a few stories, I’d like for you to get to know who I really am.”
She flushed. “Oh, my. That … would be very nice, Scalrag. I’d like that.”
He smiled. “Great. Except it’s gonna have to wait because I have to see a man about a desecrated temple.”
She blinked. ” … What?”
“Something’s up at the temple – we’re gonna have a look and be right back, okay? So don’t go anywhere, right?” She nodded. “Okay great,” Scalrag said. “So I gotta go now.”
“Alright.”
“So you need to let go of my hands,” he winked.
“And you need to let go of mine,” she giggled.
“Oh! Right, sorry.”
“Me too.”
“Hey, let’s not be sorry,” he suggested.
“Okay.”
“Okay. I gotta go. See you later, okay? Okay. Bye!” He turned and dashed off after the others.
Shiana watched him go, then tucked the rose into her robe and went to rejoin Lysette. Break time was almost over.
Part the Third: Beneath the Temple
14 Mirtul, Afternoon – Gillian’s Hill
Scalrag and the others soon reached the temple, where they found another group of adventurers already on the scene.Their leader, a dwarf named Ugma, was quietly negotiating with a harried-looking priest who could only be Father Arno. Unable to contain his curiosity, Fauss cast Invisibility upon himself and eavesdropped on Ugma’s deal-making. Meanwhile his friends milled about the vandalized temple, eyeing Ugma’s men with professional disinterest, and examining a large hole that had been bored in the floor behind the altar.
After a moment, they heard Fauss whispering behind them. “The she-dwarf is demanding an advance to investigate the hole and whatever made it. She also wants salvage rights on anything they find down there.”
“Pretty standard,” Scalrag muttered to the empty air. “How much is she asking?” He needn’t have bothered.
“We will do it for free!” Dudley declared, drawing withering glares from friend and foe alike.
“Well, it seems the market has decided,” Father Arno said to Ugma with a shrug. Furious, the dwarf stalked away, staring hatefully at Dudley. “This isn’t over,” she vowed.
Bound by Dudley’s pledge to do more pro-bono adventuring, the party followed the priest to the bell tower, which they found had been desecrated with the Mark of the Necromancer.
Fauss shook his head in disgust. “It seems the enemy is everywhere. We must descend and see what they are up to.”
They lowered themselves into the inky blackness beneath the temple, their path lit by Dudley’s shield, Matilda, and by Scalrag’s glowing Medicine Bag. Ned came with them, to Scalrag’s distaste. Sybill the Owl roosted in the temple rafters, keeping an eye on the fuming Ugma and her troupe.
The first thing they found was a fading glyph on the stone floor, whose magics Fauss confirmed had recently been dispelled. Drawing their weapons, they proceeded into the darkness. Soon they reached a small chamber where the bodies of four Orc warriors – all of them bludgeoned to death – lay arrayed around a large central statue.
Scalrag grimaced. “So … the statue did it?”
Bjorn nodded. “Definitely the statue.”
The group picked their way carefully around the room, staying well clear of the carving – but as they attempted to leave out the other side, there was a sudden grinding of stone. As predicted, the statue rumbled to life and attacked!
Thinking quickly, Fauss cast a Web, immobilizing the statue. The group slipped under its massive fists and hurried deeper into the dungeon, shaking clouds of tiny, hungry spiders from their shoulders as they went.
Beyond a set of brass doors they found a chamber lined with columns. In the middle of the room lay the flash-fried corpse of an orc – and yet another had fallen in front of the door on the opposite side of the room.
Following the footprints left in the thick dust by the two orcs, Scalrag made his way to the other side, where he discovered that the columns were all rigged with fire-spitting jets. He realized that one of the orcs had been a cleric of Gruumsh, and in addition to a dagger and some coin, he discovered a strange gear in the deceased’s pocket. It seemed to fit a small alcove on the exit door, so Scalrag’s next move was clear. As he used the unusual key to unlock the door, however, two Will o’ Wisps suddenly appeared and electrocuted him. Yelping in pain, Scalrag stumbled through the door and into the next chamber.
Meanwhile the rest of the group battled the Wisps, which popped in and out of view as they arced lightning this way and that. Dudley’s blundering led him to set off flame jets twice, leaving him scorched but unbowed. After several tense moments, the Wisps were finally destroyed – one by Ned’s champing jaws, and the other by a devastating direct hit from Fauss’ Chill Touch. The party passed through the door to regroup with Scalrag.
The next room was the largest so far, and appeared to have once been a temple. An immense altar lay smashed in its center, and a powerful magic circle dominated much of the floor. The group spread out, carefully avoiding the arcane sigils. A number of splendid armour suits were arrayed around the chamber, both on the main floor and along the raised balcony at the back – at the center of which was yet another door. Deciding not to touch the armour for now, the group prepared to move on. Scalrag reached for the door – and suddenly, Bjorn realized that something was wrong.
“Scalrag, wait!”
But it was too late. As the door pushed inward, a previously-hidden glyph flashed into existence and spat a gout of flame into the chamber. Scalrag managed to roll away and avoid the worst of the blast, but his injuries were beginning to take their toll. The others escaped with only minor burns.
But then the door slammed shut! At the same time, a Wall of Force appeared to block their retreat out of the chamber, and several suits of armor clattered to life and attacked!
Two of them closed on Jandar, battering him with their ceremonial swords. Enraged, Jandar struck back, pounding one animated armour to scrap and turning his fury on the second.
At the other end of the room, Fauss once again used his Web to good effect, catching two suits in a mass of sticky strands. Through careful use of the narrow balcony, the group was able to funnel the enemy and avoid being surrounded. Bjorn’s hammers, both physical and Spiritual, pounded one foe mightily, and Fauss delivered the final blow with a Firebolt that blasted a fist-sized hole through-and-through. As the armour collapsed and faded, another stomped forward, enduring hammer blows and Fauss’ Shocking Grasp as it closed for a kill.
Nearby, Scalrag lunged at an animated armour, his shortsword glancing harmlessly off the gleaming plate. He spun clear of the counter-swing and Dudley stepped in, thrusting two gaping holes through the armour with his trusty sword. Then Scalrag struck again, this time striking a weak point, for the armour collapsed and was no more. Shouting at Scalrag not to give up, Dudley rushed off to help Jandar.
Energized by this success, Scalrag spun on his heel and sheathed his sword. Pulling his bow from his back and notching his lucky black arrow, he jumped up on the balcony’s wide stone railing, took aim, and loosed an arrow at the armour suit that had just belted Jandar and Ned. The arrow flew true, whistling past Dudley’s ear and through the armour’s visor; it shuddered and vanished.
With his nearest foe gone, Dudley turned and ran straight towards the balcony, leaping as high as he could. His intent: to grab the animated armor above him by the greave and pull it to the floor below where he and Jandar could smash it. Alas, burdened by his armour and weapons, Dudley could not jump high enough.
Inspired by his friend, Scalrag took off sprinting along the railing, brushing past Fauss, hopping nimbly over Bjorn’s hammer-arm and then jumping onto Dudley’s shoulders. An instant later and with a helpful push from the Bruin of Bowshot, Scalrag catapulted towards the animated armor, his leg snapping out in a blurring roundhouse that sent the armour’s helm skidding along the wall in a shower of sparks. What was left of the suit clattered to the floor in a heap and vanished.
Landing gracefully as a dancer, Scalrag took in his friends with a grin and bowed.
Part the Fourth: The Spirit of Giving
14 Mirtul, Evening – ???
They decided to pause for an hour’s rest. Dudley and Bjorn claimed two suits of armor that had neither attacked them nor disappeared. These were made of mithril – a wondrous metal that was strong as steel, yet light as a feather. As Dudley tested the fit of his prize, Scalrag wandered over.
“Dudley, I have something for you,” he said, studiously ignoring Ned, who had demonstrated a troubling ability to move extremely quickly when he felt like it.
“But Scalrag, you have already given me something wonderful: we know where Matilda is!”
“Well, yes. But … look, Dudley. I feel like you’ve maybe suffered the worst of all of us since this whole thing began. You lost your hammer in the swamp, you gave your mother’s whistle to Stheno, your father was even worse than I could have imagined, and your sister is missing.”
“But Ned is back!” Dudley pointed out, beaming.
“Yeah, great.” Scalrag muttered. “Anyway, I know you’re a sensitive soul, Dudley, and while you’ve been very strong about all this, I’m sure you must be hurting. I can’t make it better, but … well, I hope this reminds you that I’ve always got your back,” he finished, handing Dudley the Warrior’s Primer.
Dudley gasped. “Look, Ned – there are even pictures inside! Thank you, Scalrag! No one has ever given me a book before, although when I was little Matilda used to read to me the Tales of Edgar Stoat. I will work hard to learn the lessons of this book, though I may need your help with the wordier parts.”
Scalrag smiled and patted his friend on the arm. “No problem, Dudley. Happy to help.” As he turned away, he found himself face-to-muzzle with Ned. Was it jealousy he saw in the beast’s eyes? Scalrag smirked and tilted his chin up at the dog. Sup? he mouthed. Ned bared his teeth.
Scalrag hurried off and tapped Fauss on the shoulder. “I got something for you, too.”
“Hmm?” the elf seemed distracted. Scalrag sighed inwardly and reached into his pack.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but … this thing is gross and I don’t want it. But I bet it’s right up your alley.” He proffered the bottle with the forked tongue floating within.
Fauss looked at the gift and froze. Then, very slowly, he raised his eyes to meet Scalrag’s expectant gaze.
“You offer this to me? Of your own free will?” the elf breathed.
Scalrag nodded. “Yeah – it’s a gift.” He pushed the bottle forward, and Fauss closed his hands around it carefully.
His left hand felt soothing warmth; his right, freezing cold. The words of the long-dead poet Ephraim Londorien came unbidden to his mind:
If Thou in Thine own Hand could hold a Sun,
Then Thou wouldst know the Power of this Tool
“<At last>,” Fauss muttered in elven. “<The answer to all the riddles. With this I will have my revenge, and more. I will unmake this world, raze it in fire and from the blood and ashes will arise a new world – a new order!> Ha! Ha ha! AH HA HA HA HA!”
“Uh, you’re gonna do what now?” Scalrag asked. Fauss stared at him.
“I speak elven, you know,” Scalrag said. Fauss waited half a beat too long, then cracked a smile half an inch too wide.
“Ha ha! Of course! Just a little joke! To express how much I appreciate this,” he said, gripping the bottle in one hand and shaking Scalrag’s hand with the other. “You are a true friend, Scalrag <and you will be among the first hung upon the Wall of Sorrows when the Reign of Blood begins.>“
Scalrag pursed his lips. “Yeah, I still speak elven.”
But Fauss had walked away and was not listening to him.
We travelled down the river and eventually arrived in some twisting passages and caves. Our guides seemed loste. I was loste too, so I understood their confusion.
In the first cave we entered there were battes that weren’t battes that swarmed at us and tried to bite us, but with the help of a spell of sleepiness from Fauss we soon foughte them off.
“ENOUGH!” shouted a loud voice, and a clap of thunder echoed through the cavern and passages. Somewhere behind us Bjorn had had enough, but I knew not where or of what. Too much dessert, perhaps? If I had time to think I would have regreted that I had found only murderous blobs of black and none of the puddings that seemed so plentiful. However, Scalrag was still in danger, and we must hasten to save him.
Eventually Bjorn and Scalrag found a glowing blue crystal in a secret place in the floor that seemed to power the defences of this place. We dare not remove it, however, in case it release the prisoner below.
With this, the mushroom people cheered! Their King spoke to Mosely using special spores, and thanked us for freeing them from their evil masters. This made me very happy, and showed once more that good will usually triumph!
One moment they were not there, and another moment they were: Matrim and Mosely. I was happy to see them bothe, and Ned wagged his taile. He does that when he is happy.
In the cavern there were scratch-markes in the wall, as if something had been scratching here. We soon discovered what: scratching spiders! One crawled up the hole but Jandar and Bjorn and I hit it and it curled up and died and fell back down the hole.
We paused for a while as the smarter people decided what to do. Scalrag pried the gold disk from the next door, which was marked with the symbol of the sun. Bjorn carefully place it in the hollow space of the war hammer we had found earlier, there was a sudden surge of divine energies, and I could feel the room suffused with the glowing radiance of good. “This hammer is magical, now that the symbol has been placed within it.” said Bjorn thoughtfully. “But it is consecrated to another god—Amaunator, the ancient Netherese sun-gun. I cannot in good faith weird this weapons in Uthgar’s holy name.”
Bjorn saw this, and gave the hammer to me. I named it “Ned,” which is the same name as Ned, who is my sister’s big black dog, and seems a good name for a weapon. I gave my other Ned—the sword called Ned, which we had found in the music box and I had carried ever since, not the dog Ned, whi is big and black—to Fauss, so that he could use a real sword and not a toy one in future.
Also, it was then that Scalrag told me something awesome: he had asked a head in the trinket shoppe about Matilda, and the head had said that my sister was in the castle of Dragonspear! I do not know why there was a head in the shoppe there, or how one can speak to a head, but now we had a place to search! He also gave me a booke, which is an amazing booke with some pictures on how to fight better and which has some big words but Scalrag and Fauss offered to explain them to me when I read it.
After a while we came to a large room with a statue, spider webbes above, and several dead orcs. The orcs looked like they had been battered, and Scalrag suggested that maybe the statue had done it. When we looked at it there was blood on its fistes so I think he was right.
After a while, Scalrag found some sort of mechanism in the body of the other orc and placed it in the door. No sooner had he done so though when two will-of-the-wisps attacked us with little lightning bolts. We fought them off, but I made the mistake of stepping somewhere new and suddenly fire appeared and burned me bad. It happened again too. I was very singed.
The next room contained the ruins of an ancient altar, a strange magical circle on the floor, and suits of immaculate armour around the walls. There was a raised walkway at the far end, and yet another door.
Fauss was really really smart AGAIN and used his web to slow some of the suits, and then magics to damage them. Bjorn too smashed at them with his hammers, wielding both steel and of faith as righteous weapons of retribution.
My father was sad, and sometimes angry. I knew his anger well, but I had not seen him sad like this before. I told him that he should come with us to Daggerford, for Bowshot would not be safe anymore. He is listened to in the village you see, and might convince others to leave too while the road north was still open.
Fauss, however, suggested we send his owl Sybill ahead to scout, having cast upon her an enchantment of invisibility. Fauss can see through her eyes, which is something that I did not know and seems very magical indeed! This was another very good idea of his, and certainly seemed much better than dying under rain of gnollish arrows.
Dudley & Scalrag's 