Onward to Maykle

They awoke at first light — cramped and sore from spending the night inside the small secret room — and were eager to be on their way to Maykle. Hopefully, today’s journey wouldn’t be as bad as yesterday’s.

Mystic sat next to the chest in the middle of the ten-by-ten room, lost in thought about yesterday, about that nightmarish creature they’d battled at the edge of The Shroud. They hadn’t even seen its true form, only its ‘lures’ that extended out from the wall of fog. It all seemed so real — the young girl in distress and her two attackers. Mystic could still hear the faux girl’s cries for help… and her unearthly growls when she’d turned on Mystic and her friends. It made her shiver. What would happen the next time they were called to action? Would they hesitate? Should they get involved at all?

“Mystic, you coming?”

She turned towards the sound of Dare’s voice and found herself mere inches from his ass. She grimaced at the sight. He was on all fours, already crawling his way through the illusory wall that led to the bedroom. “Right behind you.”

Once through, she stood up and dusted herself off. Everyone else had already come through, and she saw them in front of her… everyone but Dare.

“Where did–” she began, but then a heavy boot swung down from above, almost kicking her in the forehead.

It was Dare. He was hanging from the rafters above. She didn’t need to ask him what he was doing. There were no windows in the bedroom, but there were several thin openings higher above that seemed to look upon the outside world. She watched as Dare pulled himself onto the wooden beam and carefully walked across to the nearest hole.

“What do you see?” she called up at him.

Dare was turning his head this way and that, trying to get a good angle through the sliver of a window. “I can make out the path heading south.”

“Any sign of Maykle?”

Dare squinted. The path disappeared into the fog several hundred feet ahead of them. No sign of a town at all. No sign of anything for that matter. Well, almost. He could just make out the edge of a wrought-iron fence a few dozen feet to the left of the path. What it contained was lost in the fog, but they’d find out soon enough, he supposed.

Nazzeth was examining the desk, where he’d found that strange inkwell the night before. “Lilvari, can I see the journal for a moment?”

She handed it to him. It was a leather-bound journal and bore the name “Azzarihm Dag’gar” on the front. He went through the blank pages. It bothered him that he couldn’t unveil the journal’s secrets. Instead of handing it back to Lilvari, he slipped it into his satchel as they headed downstairs and left the relative safety of the shimmering tower behind.

“I hate Darkon,” Mercarri said as they reached the path. “It just feels… I don’t know… wrong.”

No one disagreed. Tendrils of mist swirled at their feet. The air had a stagnant aroma to it and felt so thick, so all-encompassing, that it dampened even the gravelly sound of their footsteps as they headed south. It wasn’t long before the iron-wrought fence (and what was inside) came into view. It was a small cemetery with perhaps a dozen grave markers. Most were in various states of disrepair, but that wasn’t all they noticed.

Alongside many of the graves were mounds of dirt. Though they were still too far from the cemetery to see into the graves, they all imagined the worst — that the graves were not just dug up but empty, that those formerly interred had broken free of their coffins and were now out there somewhere.

“Have to burn the bodies straight away,” Newl had told them back in Bartov. “Otherwise they’ll rise come nightfall.”

Everyone’s pace picked up, and they didn’t slow until about an hour later when they saw the vague outline of a low palisade ahead. Behind it, cottage rooftops were visible. They’ve reached Maykle.

Beasts of Burden

They were still far enough away from Maykle to not be able to discern much detail, and to Team Ramrod, that was a good thing. It meant that the two shadowy figures standing at the gated entrance wouldn’t be able to see them in detail either.

“Do we just walk right up?” Dare asked. The figures were humanoid. There was no doubt about that. There was also no doubt that each of them held what appeared to be a spear.

“Not yet,” Nazzeth said. He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind. “Are you friend or foe?”

The shadowy shapes flinched. A moment later, the one to the left put his hand on his head in a makeshift visor and peered in Team Ramrod’s direction.

“Is that you? The ones talking in our heads?”

“It is,” Nazzeth replied. “We mean you no harm. We only wish to visit your town. But first, I wanted to make sure that you mean no harm to us.”

A few more moments passed. The guards seemed to be talking to one another. Finally, Nazzeth heard their reply. “As long as you don’t cause no trouble, you’ll be fine. And I suggest you keep those mind-reading party tricks to yourself unless you want a spear up your ass.”

“They’re friendly,” Nazzeth told the rest of his group. “Friendly enough anyway.”

As Team Ramrod neared, they saw that the two humanoids guarding the open gate were human. They weren’t dressed as guards, though, but more like commoners. “What’s your business in Maykle,” one of them said. He had a long, pointed goatee and scruff on both cheeks. His friend was cleanshaven, but his red hair was wild and wind-blown.

“We’re on our way to Nevuchar Springs and were hoping to get supplies,” Lilvari said. “And maybe some transportation.”

“Transportation, eh? Then you’ll want to see ol’ Boog. The rest of what you’re looking for should be easy enough to find in the town square.”

“Boog’s the one with the horses?” Mercarri asked.

The guard with the goatee snorted. “I didn’t say nothing about horses.”

“Then what did–“

“You’ll see,” said the red-headed guard, giving them a sly smile. “Just go to Boog’s Beasts. It’s the stable past the town square a ways.”

“Yeah,” said the other guard, “You’ll know you’re close when you start smelling shit.” They both erupted in deep belly laughter.

“Well that sounded promising,” Lilvari said to the others as they made their way into town.

They were surprised to find that Maykle seemed like a normal village. The cottages that dotted the land were in good shape, not rundown or gutted, and when they reached the town square, villagers were actually carrying on with daily business instead of hiding for their lives. There was a slight fog present, but it was the thinnest they’ve seen since arriving in Darkon. Lilvari wondered if these people knew what had happened to the village of Bartov.

They continued South, looking for (or sniffing out, rather) Boog’s Beasts — whatever the hell that was. When they passed an old man dressed in deep purple robes, however, Nazzeth stopped. “I’ll meet you guys at the stable.”

When they looked at him questioningly, he added, “there’s something I have to do.” Then he hurried quickly after the man.

The rest of Team Ramrod continued on. It wasn’t long before they smelled a sour mixture of manure, urine and sopping-wet fur, and the stench was getting stronger by the minute. They followed it to a decently-sized ramshackle stable that sat alone on top of a hill.

They could see firelight flickering from within an otherwise dark interior as they approached. Lilvari was the one who knocked, and she was surprised to be greeted by an old goblin. Gray hair ringed his bald, green head. Most intriguing of all was the fact that the goblin had no arms. Instead, small nubs protruded an inch or so beyond the shoulders. Lilvari tried to look at his face and not his nubs as she asked, “Are you Boog?”

“I am indeed,” he said. He lifted his leg and, while balancing on one foot, extended the other in Lilvari’s direction. It took her a moment to realize what the goblin was doing. She put her hand out and shook the goblin’s foot in greeting. “So what can I do for you?” he asked gleefully.

Dare saw his chance. “We were told you could give us a hand with finding transportation,” he said, trying to hold in his giggles. Lilvari gave him a quick elbow to the ribs, but the goblin didn’t seem to catch on to the joke.

“That I can,” Boog said. “So how many you want?”

“How many… what?” Lilvari asked.

As if in answer, there came a guttural roar from the back room. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

Boog led them deeper into the stable. The whole place reeked of filth, but the stench intensified as they neared the back room. Inside was a narrow hallway surrounded by holding pens.

“Here we are,” said Boog. He pointed towards the nearest one with his big toe. “This here is a moorbounder.”

Inside the pen was a muscular, panther-like creature covered in wiry, matted gray fur. It had large yellow eyes — lidless and fishlike — and stood over six feet tall. As soon as the beast saw them, it charged. If not for the heavy chain that connected its collar to a spike in the floor, it would have likely burst right through the pen’s door. The commotion caused the others in the surrounding pens to growl.

“Whoa there,” said Boog. “Easy big fella.” He lifted his leg over the pen’s door and began rubbing the moorbounder’s shoulder with his foot. The goblin had to stand on his tippy toes to do so. It took several minutes, but the creature finally calmed. The rest of the group stared in wonderment at the scene.

“The moorbounders are six hundred gold a piece,” Boog said as his foot glided over the beast’s chest with the deftness of a loving master. “That includes a day’s worth of food and a free training lesson.”

“They’re not trained?” Lilvari asked.

“They have to be trained to accept you as their new master. Otherwise, they won’t listen to a damn thing you say. Worst case, they’ll eat ya.”

Dare looked in at the creature, particularly at its large maw. It was shut now, so he couldn’t see the sharp teeth that were so prominently displayed when it roared just a few moments ago, but there were still two upward facing tusks visible. They protruded from the beast’s bottom jaw and had to be nearly a foot long.

So focused was Dare that he didn’t hear Lilvari accept the goblin’s offer. All he saw was the goblin’s green, dirty foot come up near his face. “Have to shake on it,” Boog said.

Dare gritted his teeth and put out a hand.

It Takes a Cold Touch

Nazzeth stared up at the tall, dead tree. All he could see was the underside of a very large platform about thirty feet above him. The sign next to him said that this was Donnelly’s General Store, and the only way up, it seemed, was via the thin rope ladder swaying in the breeze. He sighed.

The man he’d chased was dressed in robes, so to Nazzeth that meant there was a good chance that he had some knowledge of magic. Unfortunately, he didn’t. He recommended that Nazzeth try Donnell’s General Store. When Nazzeth asked him where he could find it, the man pointed to the top of this very tree.

Nazzeth climbed the ladder to the store’s porch. Other than the fact that this place was in a tree, it looked like any other general store from the outside. The inside, though, seemed more like a hoarder’s abode. All sorts of gear hung from hooks on the walls or was stuffed into shelves or haphazardly piled on the floor. There was no shopkeeper to be found, and he chuckled to himself as he thought that maybe he or she was buried under all the junk.

“Hello?” he shouted.

He was answered by a bang. Metal on metal. It was coming from a room at the back. There were several more hits and then a curse. Nazzeth followed the sounds. Inside the room, bent over a workbench with a hammer in her hand was a young woman, maybe in her late teens. She had wild, short black hair and was wearing aviator glasses. She was so engaged in her task that she didn’t seem to notice Nazzeth. He tried again, louder this time.

“Excuse me, miss?”

She shrieked, and the hammer flew from her hand. Nazzeth ducked out of its way just in time.

“Holy crap!” she said, putting her hand to her chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Nazzeth apologized.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. So… how can I help you? You want to buy something? I’m Quinn by the way. Quinn Donnelly.”

She had an energy about her that made Nazzeth feel very old and slow. He reached into his satchel and pulled out both the journal and the inkwell, which was still warm to the touch. “My friends and I found these things on our travels.”

He handed her the journal and let her flip through several of the blank pages before continuing. “I sensed that it’s magical, that there should be some way to make its contents known, but I–“

“You were hoping I could help you figure it out.”

“Exactly.”

“Sorry, that’s not my thing.”

Nazzeth deflated.

“What I do is procure and sell items. Some I pick up on my travels and some I get from adventurers such as yourself as they’re passing through. Sometimes the gear is magical. Sometimes its not.”

She looked at the inkwell in his hand. “And what’s that?”

“I think it’s part of the magic,” he said. She put out her hand, and he gave it to her.

The moment she touched it, her eyes lit up with excitement. “Holy crap, that’s freakin’ cool — well, warm. I mean…. you know what I mean. So you think this is what was used to write in that book?”

“I think so.”

“Did you try writing anything with that ink?”

Nazzeth just stared at her.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s the first thing I would have done. Come with me.”

She led him out into the store proper and plucked a receipt from a desk drawer. She took an unused quill from another drawer and dipped it into the warm ink. It appeared black like normal ink when on the tip of the quill, but it made not a mark when she wrote on the back of the receipt.

“Ah ha,” she said. “There you go. Magic ink alright. So what DID you try?”

“Well,” Nazzeth said, thinking back, “I tried using heat on the pages, but it didn’t do anything.”

“Okay. The ink is warm so, yeah, that was a good guess. You try cold?”

Nazzeth shook his head. He felt stupid.

“Can you do any spells that make things cold?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, cool. Tell you what, I’ll put the book down on the desk, and you give it a try. Just wait until I’m not touching it anymore. I don’t want frostbite.”

She set the book on the desk, and Nazzeth cast Chill Touch. He couldn’t help but smile when she “Ooo’d” and “Aahhh’d” as the skeletal hand appeared and began lightly moving an inch or so above the first page. As it did, words started to appear in a scribbled script.

“That’s it!” she exclaimed. “Now we’re cooking!”

When all the pages were visible, they read the entries one by one. There were only a few. One discussed the author’s beliefs regarding the Hour of Ascension — the moment Dark Lord Azahrim Rex escaped Darkon. Other entries mentioned a band of secret police known as the Kargat. The author said that the Kargat were gaining power in Western Darkon. These entries were more interesting to Nazzeth, as they explained that the group was made up of vampire hunters. The corpse that he and Team Ramrod had found in the tower, the one who was most likely the owner of this journal, was, after all, bitten and killed by a vampire.

After they were through reading the journal, Nazzeth figured it’d be a good idea to get some supplies. First and foremost, he purchased a map of Darkon. Next, he asked if she had anything magical for sale.

Behind the desk were two boxes full of what appeared to be junk. She dug through the one and pulled out a folded apron. It was deep red in color. And it was dripping. She sighed. “I was hoping it would have stopped by now.”

She flipped it outward with a snap. A sheet of warm, red liquid flew into Nazzeth’s face.

“Oh sorry!” she said.

“It’s fine,” he replied, wiping his face. “Was that…”

“Blood?” She gave him an embarrassed grin. “Yeah, I think so. I swear, I washed it three times since some dude sold it to me. It stays white for like ten minutes, then starts getting all saturated with blood again.”

“Do you know why?”

She shook her head. Nazzeth took the apron from her and closed his eyes.

“Whoa… I know that look,” she said. “You’re going to detect what it does, right?”

Nazzeth was too focused to hear her, let alone answer. He discovered that the apron was also known as a butcher’s bib, and if worn while attacking someone, it would aid you in the damage dealt. He had no use for it, but Dare might. He told her what he found. “Do you have anything else?”

She did. Next, Quinn pulled out a rope. “This one, I know what it does. If you say the magic word, it will tie itself to anything — even thin air.” As a demonstration, she said the magic word and tossed the rope straight up. It held in place. She then climbed up several feet before sliding back down. Nazzeth wanted both items, but the price was too high.

“Would you be willing to trade?” he asked.

She eyed him curiously. “Depends. What do you got?”

Nazzeth pulled out the strange, bronze puzzle box that was filled with gears, levers and buttons.

“What’s it do?”

“When you perform the correct pattern, gems and gold will drop out. And sometimes, it opens a room in another dimension!” he said, using his best sales pitch voice.

She just crossed her arms. “I like you, and I kinda trust you, but I have to see a demonstration.”

Nazzeth made several attempts at activating the buttons, levers and gears in the correct order, but had no luck.

“Sorry, but I’m not going to buy it if you can’t get it to work.”

“One more time,” he said. “He cast Guidance on himself, giving him the ability to focus more deeply on the right pattern. This time, as he pushed the buttons, turned the gears and pulled the levers, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the order was correct.

“And with this last push,” he said, “you’ll see money pour out the side.”

With a smirk, Nazzeth pushed the final button, but no money poured out. Or maybe it did. He wouldn’t know because he wasn’t in the store anymore. And he didn’t have the puzzle box in hand anymore. Nazzeth suddenly found himself in a large and unlit stone room. And he wasn’t alone.

“What the hell happened?” came a voice from behind. Nazzeth didn’t have darkvision, but he could easily tell from the voice that it was Dare. Bright light appeared as Mercarri activated her mace. All of Team Ramrod was with him. And all of them looked confused.

“Nazzeth,” Lilvari said, “did you have something to do with this?”

Nazzeth only shook his head.

“Are you sure? Because–“

“Hey!” Dare said, “what’s down here?”

Everyone turned. Centered on one of the walls was a twenty-foot wide hallway that led into darkness. It was down this hallway that Dare had started.

“Dare,” Mercarri said, “Maybe you shouldn’t–“

But it was too late. The moment he stepped into the hall, something happened. Rather, several things happened all at once. At the far end of the hall, a brilliant blue light started glowing. At the same time, several columns — wide as the hall — started punching into the floor from the ceiling over and over — turning the stone floor beneath to rubble and sending a thumping wave of sound through Team Ramrod so fierce that it made it hard to breathe. These two things were further down the hall and not as much of a concern as the third and final thing to happen: The blades. More than a dozen ten-foot-long blades jutted into the hallway at all different heights and immediately began spinning. Dare jumped back but not in time to avoid a slash to the thigh.

“I’m okay,” he said as he put pressure on the wound. “Just don’t go that way.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Lilvari said angrily. The hallway was filled with death — no doubt about it. She had no intention of going anywhere until they figured out what was going on. But then, there was a familiar sound from behind.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Shit,” she muttered to herself.

The sound was that of stone grinding against stone. She knew exactly what it was without even looking. She saw Mystic turn in that direction. Then Mystic let out a gasp.

“It’s the wall, isn’t it?” Lilvari asked.

Mystic turned to her, eyes wide with terror. She nodded.

“It’s moving closer, right? Going to push us into the blades?”

Again Mystic nodded.

“Shit.”