We proceeded through more tunnels, which to our good fortune became considerably less chilly, the white roots thinning and eventually vanishing completely.Sybarron congratulated me several times for my handling of this new fellow, Zenith. Our progress was not fast, but once we settled into a rhythm things progressed rather quickly. At least, they seemed to.
About an hour after dealing with the sphinx, we came upon a ‘crossroads’ in the tunnel network, one limned with a softly glowing red lichen or moss. As we approached it, Sered noticed first – a Fomorian male, huddled against the left wall ahead of us. After we all froze and went silent, someone noticed a strange noise – which we quickly identified as being the Fomorian, sobbing. I figured at first it was simply having a psychotic episode, but as we drew closer we realized the thing had been beaten severely, it was covered with a variety of cuts and bruises, and its clothing was torn in several places.
The clothing itself was dyed in deep purple, and had linings of cloth-of-gold as well as a variety of gem-looking baubles. Not the clothes of a peasant, I would think, but I don’t really know what to expect from the citizens of the richest Fomorian community in all the Feywild.
On hearing us approach, the creature looked up and towards us – and we could then see its afflicted eye boasted a long cut, not quite ruining the orb, but certainly impairing it. Blood and tears slowly leaked from both the injury and the good eye. It recoiled a little at our approach, and called out “Please don’t kill me!”
Bingo and Sered looked at each other, and Bingo shrugged. “We aren’t here to kill you,” Sered offered. I began digging through my pack for a bandage, something that might at least cover that eye.
I asked “What did this to you?” as I searched and the others settled into watchfulness.
“There is a monster here, he is killing me!”
Now it was Arn’s turn to shrug, as he looked at the floor, carefully searching for any sign of another creature’s passage. I tapped out a rhythm to enhance our concentration and abilities to perceive things out of the ordinary, but it did little good. No sign of another creature could be found.
“It comes out of the walls, it sticks me when I..OWW!” The giant lurched away from where it sat, and immediately began weeping. I could see nothing behind it, and from the exasperated looks on the others’ faces, they saw nothing as well.
I walked towards the stricken Fomorian, with the wrapping in hand.
“DO NOT GIVE THE GIANT ANY AID!” A voice boomed out of…nowhere, it seemed.
I held up, considerably alarmed at the thought of an invisible Fomorian or some phasing creature coming out of the walls at me.
That was about when I thought I caught a glimpse of something moving in the giant’s hair.
I stepped further forward, and offered the bandage to the injured creature, who accepted it with two enormous and shivering fingers. Quickly holding it up to his eye, he retreated from me.
“DO NOT GIVE AID TO THE GIANT, FILTHY HELLSPAWN!” The voice returned.
“I am not giving aid, I am providing a cover so that we do not have to stare at that wound.” I lied.
“THE GIANT IS MINE, YOU SHALL NOT TRY TO TAKE IT OR I SHALL SLAY IT IMMEDIATELY!”
Arn called out. “Is it for sale, then? Would you part with it at a price?”
Without preamble or ceremony, something dropped to the floor from the giant’s hair behind it, and trotted out to face us – a gnome, dressed in dark leather armor with all manner of gear attached to it, blade held ready. “He’s mine, I tell you, and you’ll not have him! I captured him myself, and I’m going to take him home to Dachlan! We shall torture him and kill him, carve off the meaty bits and eat them, and turn his skin into blankets and bags and other usefuls!!”
I stifled a bit of a laugh at the vermin’s bravery. I could see from his cunning little eyes that he was sizing us up, and didn’t like the odds. Nice bravado, though.
“Then he is of measurable value to you,” I said. As I spoke, Natha melted into the shadows of a side wall, closing her eyes. In spite of this, I could see a tiny snake-head at the end of many strands of her ‘hair,’ one for each of us, watching us.
“That will depend on the value you measure, dirty halfbreed!” He stuck his little sword in my direction, snarling a bit.
Althea came up to look at the sobbing giant, resting a hand on its ankle, where a particularly deep gash across its calf ended.
On seeing her, the gnome’s eyes went wide as…well, wide for a gnome. He staggered back a couple steps while stammering out “Lady Eladrin! Lady!” He immediately licked his off-hand palm, and ran the wet hand through his hair. “If I had known you were traveling with this bunch I would have…I would have been prepared!”
Althea stepped back towards the rest of the group, and as she did I sidled in closer to the Fomorian, whose sobbing had abated and who was watching this exchange with reserved fear. The tip of his blade followed me, as did an occasional squinting glance. She glanced at the others, not knowing how to react to this. “Prepared for what?”
“Prepared for your royal presence! I would have washed my feet!” The gnome actually lifted one up and held it out for her to see, then he must have realized he was displaying a filthy foot to Althea, because he snatched it back under him a moment later. When he hid it behind the other, he got caught up trying to hide one dirty foot behind the other, and it almost became like a dance step, first one foot hiding and then the other. Finally, he swore something in deep speech, and threw his hands up in the air with exasperation.
Arn picked up fast – for a druid, he certainly was quick to hit stride in the conversation. “The Lady Althea is best addressed as ‘My Lady,’ peasant. And she is not entertained by your feet.”
The gnome looked almost as stricken as the Fomorian. “I am sorry, My Lady. I cannot dither here, I must take my prize back to Dachlan, and prove how mighty I am!”
“I am interested in your prize, little one. Where did you find him?”
“I hunted him in these tunnels, and captured him myself! I had no help at all!” He looked curiously stoic as he said this. Given the look of some of the injuries on the giant, the blades that caused them would be fully the size of the gnome himself.
“I see. What price would you set on it?” Althea gestured in the giant’s direction.
“What would you offer me? He is a Fomorian king! I will take him home and eat his liver!”
Sered jiggled his pack, looking first to Althea and then to the gnome. “My lady, we have this jewelry we recovered from the tower floor after dealing with the lamia, perhaps a share of that would repay the gnome for his find?”
“Jewelry??” The gnome’s eyebrows rose quite far before his face slammed back into inexpressive wariness.
Althea reached into the sack Sered held out, and withdrew a silver necklace, set with yellow stones. “Indeed, little hero. Perhaps this would repay you for your efforts.”
By now I’d poured a bit of antiseptic on the bandage the giant held out, and watched him wince as he put it on his injured eye. Fresh tears ran from behind the quickly darkening fabric.
Althea held out the necklace, gingerly. Quicker than I would have credited him for being, the gnome snatched it fast from her hand. I was actually a little alarmed at how close he got to nicking her with his blade. Down here, who knew what poisons the little creature might be trailing around with?
“Hmm…” he said, looking closely at the stones. “What else would you give me for it?”
For some reason this set me off. I felt the rage build up in me, and I drew Sybarron from its sheath and took a fast step towards the little creature, raising my voice and flaring out my will. “You will accept what the princess has offered you, and if you are extremely lucky, she may knight you for your gallant capture of this creature, but you shall not question her generosity again.”
He looked back over his shoulder at me quickly, a glance more to measure the distance between us, then back to Althea. Almost as suddenly, he must have realized what he’d seen, as his head snapped back to me with an audible clicking sound. I’d done a good job at frightening him, he almost dropped the necklace.
“Um…I…umm…haa…yes, okay. Yes. How silly of me! For the princess to travel with a devil lord I should have never…umm…ahhh…” He grew considerably paler as he spoke.
Althea had had a quick huddle with Sered and Dei, and Sered handed her one of his swords. “Come forward, little one, and tell me your name.”
His head turned to Althea, but his eyes stayed on me. “My lady?” He almost whispered it, and the second syllable of ‘lady’ came out with a little crack.
“What is your name? I can hardly call you Sir Whoeveryouare.” She held the sword out to her side.
“Sir?” he croaked.
“Indeed, for that is the title knights wear, is it not?”
Comprehension dawned on the little creature’s tiny face. It jammed the necklace into its pocket and sheathed its sword. “Mad Jack, that’s my name. Mad Jack.”
Sered prodded gently, “My lady.”
The gnome started, actually almost left the ground, his whole body jerked. “My lady!”
“Kneel, Mad Jack,” Althea said. He did, and bowed his head to look at the floor.
I half-expected her to sweep his head off his neck, but she laid the flat of the blade on each of his shoulders in turn. “I knight you Sir Mad Jack, protector of the princess of,” she hesitated a moment, “Moldovia.” I mouthed Moldovia? at her, to which she just shrugged. “Arise, Sir Mad Jack.”
He practically levitated off the floor, he sprang up so quick. “Do you have a favor?” He asked immediately.
“A favor?” She didn’t know what he was on about.
“Yes, a favor, a trinket of yours for me to carry into battle! To show the people of Dachlan how mighty I am!”
“Ahh, a favor, yes, that would be fitting, wouldn’t it?” She patted herself down, looking for something suitable. Came up with a handkerchief of some kind, and offered it to the little creature.
He snatched it almost as quickly as he had the necklace, and backed away. “They will all see me now, how mighty I have become! No one will call me just Mad Jack any more, I am Sir Mad Jack!” He angled towards one of the side tunnels. “If you come to Dachlan, remember to see me! I will be your knight! Sir Mad Jack!”
Before I even realized what had happened, he’d zipped off into the dark. His cackling laughter echoed back to us for a few moments more before following him into the deep.
I turned back to the Fomorian, who was visibly more relaxed now that his antagonist was gone. He held the bandage to his eye with one hand while propping himself up with his other.
“Thank you for that, I think.” It finally said, its voice a deep basso rumble. “What do you plan to do with me?”
We all looked around. Sered spoke up. “We didn’t really plan to do anything with you, we just didn’t want to see you killed.” A couple of us nodded.
“Then indeed, thank you. Who are you?”
“We are Fellbane, an adventuring company from the town of Al’Veydra in the Middle World. You are?” The rest were gathering up as Sered continued. I worked a quiet healing charm on the giant, closing the two nastiest-looking wounds and giving a little brighter color to his skin.
“I am called Zur Nav, and I am from Ihnbharan. From the direction you came, can I assume that is where you are going?” At the mention of the name, Dei started, but I held up a hand behind me in a cutting motion. No need for this giant to know that we’d heard his name before. When I looked over my shoulder I saw the glances passing among us, and was glad to find I wasn’t the only one who thought so.
“As a matter of fact, we are.” Sered was sheathing the sword Althea had handed back to him. “Would you like to accompany us? It would seem safety in numbers would be wise.”
“I would be grateful for that, and I offer you shelter in my fortress. I am a prince of Ihnbharan, and would like to reward you for saving me.” We all began walking as he said this.
“How did you end up out here, alone this way, being a prince of your land?” I asked.
“One of my brothers did this, tried to kill me. I fled, and escaped him, only to become trapped by the gnome who you dealt with. I was almost certain of my escape, but to be brought to helplessness by such as he, is…embarrassing.” He was obviously concerned about the repercussions of this on his standing.
“I am sorry to hear that – why would your brother try to do this to you?”
“It was but a misunderstanding. I’m sure this is all cleared up now.” He looked at his arms, where the deeper cuts had been made.
“They will think you dead now, won’t they?”
“Yes, for now. Why do you say ‘they’? I did not mention any others.” He eyed me carefully.
I sped through a few options on how to rescue this conversation. “We travel to a city that is new to us. It behooves us to learn as much as we can in advance of our arrival. We knew of several children of the king, and if one of them tries to kill another, surely he would not act alone.”
He seemed to accept this. “It is a misunderstanding, as I said. My brother was under the influence of his golor, it has in all likelihood passed now. Still, I would be most appreciative if you did not mention my residency among the living to anyone when you reach the city.”
I saw Natha’s eyes brighten a little. The others nodded. “I can speak for us, but our guide,” and I motioned to the medusa, “is of her own free will. Any such arrangement you will have to make separately with her.”
Zur looked concerned at this, giving the creature’s visage a long, contemplative look. He nodded. Peeled the bandage off his eye with a little gasp and looked at it before replacing it.
“We have a slight…altercation among us for now.”
I kept myself from smiling at the understatement. Sered spoke up from a few steps behind. “We don’t visit Ihnbharan with the intention of getting mixed up in the games of royalty.” At the utterance of the word ‘games’, Zur’s eyes grew wide and he peeled the bandage off his injured, wandering eye.
His voice seemed tremulous, almost overeager, as he interrupted. “Ohh, but I LIKE games!” His hands clapped together quickly, unconsciously. In a fraction of a second, his face crunched down, obvious will going into his effort to lock down the unstable parts of his mind.
Loosening the grip on Sybarron, I continued. “We would like to continue to speak with you, and take advantage of your invitation, but we are on other business first.”
“What other business do you have in Ihnbharan?” It was Zur’s turn to be wary now.
Sered answered him. “We intend to accomplish something, which might be of some benefit to you, given the circumstances here. We cannot go into the nature of it at length, but it perhaps can lead to business between us while we are there.”
I looked around at the others, and we all seemed to weigh the thought. After a moment’s muttered discussion, I said “Yes, we would be honored to accept your invitation, but we have another commitment to meet someone in Ihnbharan right away. May we perhaps keep our meeting and then visit you afterwards?”
He thought for a moment, nodded. “You may, but please understand that this may introduce some…distance between us.”
“We understand. I hope that we can regain whatever ground with you that might slip during that time quickly. It is not our intent to offer offense.”
“I take none. I am merely…cautious. Yes, cautious is the word. Ah, we grow closer.” As he said this, we all noticed a reddish light ahead of us, with a widening of the tunnel to accompany it. I could smell coal fires, charred meat, and magic. “I will have to part ways with you here. I go to my fortress along a back way. You are certain that I cannot have you visit me now?”
“We have promised, and must keep our promise here. How may we reach you when the time comes that we are done?” The glow ahead was enticing, and as we approached I noticed a small passage off the right of the tunnel. Totally dark, it yawned like a small mouth in the tunnel side.
“I have a man, working for me in a tavern in the foreign quarter. You will find him at a tavern known as the “Skin Well.” Ask the innkeeper for Rust. When you see him, tell him you were sent by Sir Mad Jack. He will know and will bring you to me.”
We all nodded agreement, and I shook the giant’s enormous, meaty hand. I was rather surprised at how well he controlled his strength, he was able to grip my hand in his fingers, without crushing it. He vanished into the side passage, and we continued on, to the mouth of the tunnel.
Before us lay Ihnbharan.
The city was…disconcerting. It was lit brightly in places with various reds, yellows and greens, and was pitch black in others. The architecture was inconsistent, some buildings appearing as if they were melted wax – most likely stalagmites carved out into dwellings – some looking plucked from a street in Al’Veydra, some looking like a one-eyed dwarf with a bad hangover had constructed them.
All this was punctuated by towers. Obelisks, really, tall structures with dual spires at the top which framed strange fae eyes – cat-pupilled and glowing, these eyes raked the landscape with their vision. Visible rays of soft but diseased light spilled from them to the ground, it seemed as if there wasn’t a single space within the enormous cavern that didn’t fall under their surveillance. It was decidedly creepy to me to see these things, though I cannot with certainty say why that was. Disembodied eyes. Ehh.
Above all of this, great bats flew with the casual grace of herons, circling around the city with flaps of their wings. I could just make out harnesses on them, and riding the backs of these bats, spriggans with a variety of weaponry guided their mounts with reins that ran to small bits locked in the jaws of the flying beasts. They also had tiny cords that reached out to the bats’ wingtips, I assumed so they could use them to pull extremely tight maneuvers with their beasts.
As we walked through buildings and streets, we came upon a stout but wide structure with a sign-board out front, fungal wood with a charred spiral on it. It was built in such a way that it looked like a normal building had been set on its side, and never lifted to vertical. All its windows were wider than they were tall, and the walls had a very crooked appearance.
Natha moved to the fore. “The Coil,” she said, and led us inside.
The interior reminded me of a very high-class tavern I’d once visited while still a citizen of Bael Turath. Dark woods – real wood, not the woody fungus planks many underearth settlements use – and leathers were the theme of the place. I could smell fine tobacco, and I saw many bottles behind the bar which I certainly would have appreciated a glass of. Natha led us into the back and up some stairs to a private room. The room was at a strong tilt, its floor leveled by being built in small terraces, giving the impression of a set of broad steps. The central table’s legs had each been crafted to accomodate a level surface on this tilted floor, and the chairs around it were reasonably normal.
“Wait here,” Natha said, and slinked out another doorway.
Most of us remained standing, though Arn and Bingo took seats next to each other at one end of the table.
Minutes passed. I was beginning to grow slightly nervous, when the door creaked again. The handle turned, and it opened.
Natha reentered the room, quietly taking station in the corner where she could view all of us.
Mahar followed behind her.
He still seemed Shadrim, somewhat less than six feet tall, with deep olive-brown skin and black hair streaked with grey. His horns were spun straight out from the back of his head, almost like those of an ibix, black horns ridged with numerous gashes and scars. Gold filigree created sigils of arcane and religious significance, and as I looked the ones at the base of his horns seemed to crawl, encircling them. In fact, looking at them a second time, I realized they had changed. From what little I could read, I assume they spelled out the permanent binding that brought him to hell.
His eyes were orange orbs, clear with blue flecks scattered around in them. The orange I remembered, the blue I did not. He maintained the hooked nose adorning his face, and small horny protrusions extended from his cheekbones and chin, one single silver earring hanging from his left ear. A battle harness covered with trinkets as well as several actually useful weapons clung to his torso, over a hide jerkin and fragments of plate armor on his right shoulder. A wickedly serrated bastard sword was resting on his hip, softly exuding crimson mist that faded before it reached the floor. In the corner of the room, I noticed his old rune-engraved bone greatbow seemed to wait patiently for its next chance to skewer the unsuspecting.
He looked on at us, as Natha withdrew to her corner, the wine bottle in his hand. His eyebrows raised, he glanced between that, and me, and the rest of the group. His gaze settled on me. “I find this…unbelievable, but here you are. How is it that this is possible? How is it that I can believe you to be other than a faerie glamour?” His voice had changed – I could still hear the old Mahar, but there was an echo, a harmony, of a deeper voice now over it.
He continued to ponder, as a female Shadrim slipped into the room behind him. “Ahh, my dear. Perhaps you can help me determine the authenticity of this individual. He claims to be Azrael, our old companion – and he presents some compelling evidence. Please, set glasses out for the three of us, and see to it that the others are treated well. Natha, please present them with food and drink. Real food, not faewild. There shall be no question of an attempt to bind any of them. Not yet.” This last with a smile.
“It is fortunate my mission to halt Fellbane does not necessarily mean to kill you all. Veyd’s wording of it still leaves me plenty of room to interpret. It would be a shame, if you are real, to kill you after so long a parting.”
It was then that I realized the identity of the other Shadrim who attended him.
Miranda.
(The ongoing conversation took many directions, most of which you recognized in one form or another, while Mahar detailed what transpired with him during my long absence. For in-depth information on this, see “ The Politics of Hell“.)
