- Departures and Meetings
- First Day in Sandpoint
- Gaining a Reputation
- Under Sandpoint
- Going to Thistletop
- Thistletop Again
- Respite in Sandpoint
- The New Unpleasantness
Leaving the Manor
I freeze at the gates of the estate. I thought I was ready – I was wrong. The endless sky is above me and behind the buildings and city walls I feel the pull of the horizon, just waiting to dissolve my essence into its vastness.
Maybe the danger is not as great as Lord Goram says; he may let me stay if I promise never to show my face again, anything so long as-
Shekir the Stable-master plops his big old hat on my head, it falls past my ears and I am engulfed in the smell of old hay and horses. "There, there, lad," he whispers in his thick Shoanti accent, "take it one step at a time, you'll be fine."
He's treating me like one of his skittish horses!
Does he think I can be pacified with blinkers? It's insulting, it's demeaning, it's … it's working…
I pull the hat deeper over my burning ears and mumble a thank you. He's right in front of me but I can only see him from the chest down. "It's alright, Raesho. Even great horses can stumble. Just follow me and I'll take you where you need to go."
And that is how I leave my home of thirteen years: eyes down, following someone's boots through the streets.
First Impressions
Grurag
Scuffed sandal boots, scars go at least up to his denuded knees, his voice is rough and gravelly to match. Presumably he's wearing clothes, but I'm not about to take off my hat to find out.
Gil-Garrand
Breeches and well-maintained boots. Is that the tip of a whip dangling by his side? He speaks with a well-modulated voice, probably in his twenties.
Heggun
At first I think that one of the others has brought their child along, then the halfling turns around. So… still a child but not much younger than myself. He has a symbol of Desna around his neck and a pipe in his mouth.
Zefer
The gnome's body is almost hidden by the crossbow strapped on his back, the smell of oil and metal wafts around him. A marksman of some sort, he obviously cares very much for that crossbow.
The Games
The Catch
Eyes rolling, the piglet dodges left and right. Men slip and fall in the mud behind it, they reach for it but it slips out of their grip. It's running straight at me! Grurag launches himself at it, he swings a mighty arm and catches the piglet by the leg. At the same time my hands close around its neck, I did it!
* * *
I sit in the back of the cart with the piglet. I have decided to call it Katrinussi, I just hope Lord Katrinus never hears of it. Gil-Garrand joked about making jerky, at least I hope it was a joke… who could think of eating this little creature?
A potent kiss
He's won! Heggun's outdrunk Grurag and the old man! And he's going back for a fourth drink! How is he doing it?!
I have no need to ask why he's doing it, Gil-Garrand's and my own flushed faces tell the whole story.
And he's down… the barmaids carry him ceremoniously out of the bar. I put on my hat and help drag Grurag into the cold water.
Goblin Raid
Screaming in the crowd, I hear discordant singing as well. Everyone scatters and we're left almost alone in the plaza. Is this part of the celebration?
Then I hear the cry: "Goblins!"
Goblins? Katrinus didn't say anything about that! This was supposed to be a safe place for me to hide!
I'm tempted to lift my hat up but I might freeze again.
Grurag shakes his greatsword loose and runs to the right, he bellows "I see them!"
Good!
I go the other way, back to our rickety cart and safety. I stop short when I see a small pair of feet standing near a fallen body.
Damn! There were more of them.
I unwind my scarf and lash out at the goblin's feet…
The Crypt
Why does Gil-Garrand keep volunteering us for these things? Surely we should be practicing our- Oh my! … is that a moving skeleton?
The Rusty Dragon
What am I doing? Don't get involved, don't get involved.
* * *
Well, that did not go well. Lady Ameiko seems thankful but I think I've made an enemy of Lord Kaijitsu.
The Goblin in the Wardrobe
Again we volunteer to go into danger, how is this supposed to garner us spectators for the show?
I do feel sorry for the child, but at least he still has his mother and a house. More than I had at his age.
Heggun and the father
Heggun certainly has a way with women. I don't know what she looks like but I can tell from Gil-Garrand's voice that she had something to her.
* * *
We find Heggun unconscious outside the tavern a few hours later. I don't know what happened but I suspect it had something to do with the young lady.
The Boar Hunt
Katrinussi is much cuter than this beast! It almost gored me!
Lord Foxglove seems happy though and Gil-Garrand delivered the final blow. Hopefully this will keep the Lord from remembering too much about me when he returns to Magnimar.
The Glassworks
Well, now they know. Why didn't I just go around the outer halls instead of trying to brave the furnace itself? Now, ithe questions come, always the same and never helpful. I answer by rote, habit keeps my voice calm but inside I'm fighting visions of green flames and melting stone; the screams of burning men overlay the well-meaning voice of Gil-Garrand, and the smell … well, the smell is the same thanks to the goblins' handiwork.
"What about really big candles?"
That gets through. Fires and screams fade as I look down at the diminutive sorcerer, "Candles?"
Zefer nods, "Big ones, like torches."
I resolutely squash that analogy before it takes seed, "Wouldn't those just be torches then?"
We near the exit of the staircase and I find myself hoping that there will be goblins ahead to distract my companions.
Changing Vocation
The new armor is bulky, reassuringly so, the single sheet of metal is heavy but not too noisy and it simple to put on. With it I almost feel brave enough to stride in the front alongside Grurag, well, maybe next time… .
My range of motion is more limited now, it will be very difficult to cast spells and I have to re-learn how to use my scarf – I almost lost an arm when I took a practice swing in front of Savah's Armory. I try different grips and motions as the group explores the smugglers' tunnels – once again Gil-Garrand has volunteered us to do something quite outside our purpose for being in Sandpoint – but I can't get the scarf to go where I want.
And then my hands slip and the scarf almost flies out of my hands, at the last moment I hook two fingers on the fabric and lo!, the scarf whistles through the air and sparks flash as the blades scrape against the tunnel wall.
There's shushing from behind and, in front, I hear Grurag mutter something about "longshanks", I just stare at the scarf in my hands.
"You know," I say to no one in particular, "I think I've been holding it wrong this whole time… "
Koruvus
I cower by the entrance to the long corridor, Zefer and Gil-Garrand by my side. At the other end, Grurag grunts and curses as he does battle with the three-armed goblin guarding the exit. Heggun stands bravely just one step behind, casting supporting spells. They suddenly cry out as a cloud of acrid black mist envelops them and I take an involuntary step back as they fall to the ground and our enemy is clearly revealed.
Black blood oozes from the wounds Grurag inflicted and it is clearly weakened, yet it bares its teeth and rushes towards us, clearly it feels that we pose no threat … a mistake. Even as I start to retreat, Zeferian steps forward and unleashes a bolt of pure elemental magic that bowls the goblin over and casts its lifeless body to the ground.
Gil-Garrand wastes no time and rushes to help Grurag and Heggun, Zeferian and I examine the dead goblin. Its third arm is huge and sprouts from its lower back, it ends in a massive fist, clutching a oddly shaped longsword. I free the blade from the monstrous grip, it's bigger than it looks: a greatsword then, it is very well made and clearly enchanted to have a finer edge.
I remember that Shalelu mentioned a goblin chieftain who wielded a magical weapon, Koruvus, but I am equally sure that she did not mention a third arm. Suddenly, I dread what we may find if we keep following Tsuto's trail.
The Baying of Dogs
The strange small flying creature is finally driven off, I think more in frustration than anything else – it couldn't injure us any more than we could it. It was clearly a servant of Lamashtu and this is an ancient shrine dedicated to Her but, much to Heggun's chagrin, I fear there is nothing we can do to purify these tunnels. Heggun insists that he can also hear the sound of howling dogs somehow coming from beneath the pool of water in the middle of the room, we don't have time to investigate at the moment, but I feel certain that Heggun will want to return here, I must make sure to be otherwise occupied when the time comes.
Coming Home
We're alive!
I never thought I would be so glad to be outside, I almost forget to pull the brim of my hat back down as we make our way out of the glassworks … almost.
The rest of the group is intent on reporting to the mayor and getting rest. I keep thinking about what we found; whose statue was that? And what were those flying creatures? I must find out.
* * *
Brodert is going on an on about the ruined Thassilonian empire, he tells me nothing I didn't learn for myself as Lord Goram's librarian but I let him speak. Unaccountably I forgot all about while I was underground, the heat of combat I suppose.
Brodert's thoughts about the Old Light are interesting, I let him speak some more even though I catch the sighs of boredom from the other customers at the Curious Goblin, evidently this is not the first time he expounds his theories.
The Cat
No! No more! This time I'm putting my foot down. Why should we risk our lives again? The sheriff is back now, he has reinforcements, let him do his job and let us be entertainers… here comes Gil-Garrand, no doubt he will try to convince me that it's our duty to go, well they can go without me! I'm staying right here in the tavern….
* * *
So these are the Nettlewoods. Grurag assures us, for the fourth time, that we are quite near Thistletop now. We follow narrow overgrown paths, the underbrush presses in against us and we have to push against it to move. It's quite comforting actually, much better than the horrible vastness of the plains.
* * *
The giant cat's growls sound closer, it brought Zefer down with a bite and a swipe of its claws and now it's after me! I try to force my way through the constricted pathways. Damn these plants! They're slowing me down! If only I could find a way back to the group … too late, I hear a noise from behind and turn. The cat rears on its hind legs and tries to bite me, I dodge but can't avoid its claws…
Darkness … peace … quiet.
I wake with the bitter taste of a potion on my tongue. I can just see Grurag stalking away but I can't move; this does not worry me. Nothing worries me. I gaze at the patches of sky through the leaves and wonder at what I have been afraid of all this time. Maybe I'll go take a peek at the horizon when I recover…
Fighting Fire
The goblin cries out as my bladed scarf tightens around its leg and draws blood. It falls through the trapdoor as I flick the scarf away. The goblin leader tries to climb in, its eyes intent on Zefer and the scroll in his hand. For a moment I consider letting it come through – I don't want Zefer to use that scroll either – but no, an upwelling of courage moves my body forward, I shove the goblin back and brace myself over the opening. I look at Zefer and Gil-Garrand, “alright then, use the scroll, just don't make the flam- the fi- don't make the sphere appear near me.”
Zefer nods, he reads the scroll and peeks through the trapdoor down to the foot of the stairs. A huge ball of yellow flame appears and incinerates one of the goblins standing there. The sight is too much for me, I run from the trap door and cower in a corner of the room, next to Grurag who was just brought back from the brink of death by Heggun's ministrations.
The Tentamort
I grip the rope and try to pull myself up, I set my eyes firmly on the cliff face in front of me. Above I hear my companions shouting as they fight some … thing.
"Watch out for the tentacles," cries Gil-Garrand.
Tentacles?
Grurag grunts, "It's got me…" then he screams
Perhaps I shouldn't try quite so hard to get up there…
I reach the lip of the cavern opening just as Heggun delivers the final blow to the creature. I know it at a glance, it was represented in the scrolls on dangerous creatures living under the Kodar Mountains. I try to comfort Grurag as Father Zanthus restores him but our ranger takes no solace in knowing what fate he narrowly avoided.
Scouting
"Rincewind, why don't you go see what's down that passage?"
At first I don't realize what our bard is suggesting, then a strangled "No way!" forces its way out of my lips.
What kind of fool does he take me for?
Clanking alone down those passageways sounds like a sure way to end up crossing the veil, I have no wish to follow Grurag's tendency to visit Death's Door.
Guilt nags at me as we tensely wait for Gil-Garrand to return from his explorations, after all, why should he risk his life by venturing alone in the enemy stronghold?
I almost follow him when he comes back from the south passage and proceeds north, but I could never be as quiet as him, not with this breastplate on.
Suddenly we hear him hurrying back with a large bleeding gash on his right arm, he gasps, "One guard, human, get ready…"
I am overcome with remorse, this must not happen again!
The Hounds
I clamber desperately up the stairs and try to open the door, fear makes my hands tremble.
I have to get out! They're coming for me!
Finally the door opens and I take a step into the blessed open air ( Open air? ) and the magical compulsion fades.
Those Hounds! They did something to me. Where the others also affected?
I avert my eyes from the open spaces before me and rush back down the stairs.
I find Gil-garrand and Heggun braced against the large double doors.
//One of them must have managed to shut the hounds in. How clever! //
The doors burst open just as I arrive, releasing the two weirdly emaciated hounds.
An Unlikely End
"Here's one for you Tsuto!" Gil-garrand looses an arrow down the corridor.
I lean over from behind the wall and also take aim, trying to ignore the small blazes not 30 feet away. The bow I took from Bruthaszmus' corpse is a good one, the arrow thunks satisfyingly in the half-elf's side.
Grurag is at the fore, several goblin arrows already sticking out from his armor, he yells "Fall back!" as he also aims for Tsuto but before he can follow his advice he is struck down by a new arrival.
The deformed arm, almost claw-like in appearance, matched with the beautiful face allow for no doubt: Nualia has found us.
She strides through the flames and over Grurag's slumped form to attack Gil-garrand. Behind her I see that another arrival, the sorceress, and all the goblins are getting ready to shoot us down. In desperation I manage to summon clouds of fog and shield us from view.
I step forward, intent on distracting Nualia as Heggun tries to get past her to restore Grurag, and I am suddenly caught between the attacks of a spectral weapon and Nualia herself, her deformed arm strikes me and I know no more.
* * *
I come to suffused by the warmth of curing magic. Gil-garrand and Father Zanthus are the only ones standing, they bend over each of my companions in turn and cast healing spells.
We're not dead! How did that happen?
Gil-garrand soon tells us: somehow he single-handedly succeeded where all of us together failed. The goblin corpses strewn down the corridor along with Nualia's dead body corroborate his story, and it does explain the strange dream I had just before waking.
Deeper
“Try the other slit.”
Gil shrugs, “It’s your money,” he fits the gold coin in the small indentation on the wall. I hear a clinking sound and the untouchable pile of gold starts sinking into the ground.
Gil cries, “The gold!” Vainly he tries to grab at as it descends.
I look beyond him at the opening that has been revealed, stale air wafts out and by contrast I realize how pervasively the stench of goblins and pickles occupied the rest of the ruins.
I guess Nualia didn’t find this place.
* * *
This is a treasure trove! To hear Thassilonian actually being spoken! I can’t wait to see what is behind the last door…
* * *
The huge jaws close over my arm and blood spurts from between its teeth.
I start to lose consciousness but then a glow spreads over the wounds and the pain recedes.
Behind me Father Zanthus screams in pain.
Malfeshnekor whispers, “What will you do now little human?” and laughs.
I shout, “Retreat!”
“Longshanks!” agrees Grurag.
We step past the threshold but can’t quite get out of reach, I look up in despair as the monster raises its claws.
“No you don't!” Gil-Garrand mutters a word and the doors slam shut.
Don’t they realize he can walk through solid matter? This won’t hold him!
I cower, waiting for the claws to come through the door. A muffled roar of rage comes from the other side, and … nothing.
I remove the seven-pointed medallion from the indentation on the doors and limp down the hallway, Is he bound to that room? How did Nualia intend to use him to attack Sandpoint?
A Long Night
“Grurag and I are going to go sell all these items, care to join us Rincewind?”
“Sorry Gil, there’s something I want to confirm first. I’ll see you at the Rusty Dragon.”
Hat pushed firmly down, I follow my ground-level landmarks away from the group and towards Savah’s Armory and on to the Boneyard. I risk a quick peek from under the brim when I near the far wall.
Good, no witnesses.
Slowly I go through the moves of a Varisian dance, trying to remember the steps that my foster mother made me learn back in House Goram. It’s slow going at first but eventually the memories come back and I start moving faster, finally I unfurl the scarf and start swinging it.
It works! Ilorina, you sly fox! Is this why you were so insistent?
The scarf have never flown faster and surer than now. I try other moves as they come to me, the blades flash and shimmer as they catch the light of the setting sun and the rising moon.
I cast my mind back to the not so distant past; what was it that Ilorina always said when Zaesho and I complained about having to learn how to dance?
“Rincewind?”
“Raesho,” she’d say, “you may not be my son but you are a Varisian all the same. And a Varisian who cannot dance is like a knife without a blade. Now do it again, you too Zaesho! You are my son and you will do as I say!”
“Hey Rincewind, can you hear me?”
Rincewind?, yes, that’s my name here! I come crashing back to the present and misstep, the scarf swings wide round me and streaks towards the person calling me.
“Look out!” I cry. But Ameiko is already in motion, she sways the merest amount necessary to dodge the leading edge of the blades and then her hand flashes out to grab the fabric end of the scarf – too tight –blood wells up from her thumb.
“Lady Kaijitsu!” I start to say, “I am so sorry–” but she grins and waves my excuses away.
“I’ve had worse while cleaning fish, and it’s ‘Ameiko’ to you, Rincewind.”
She tosses the end of the scarf back at me, “Good quality this,” she remarks, “sharp edges.”
“Yes…” I smile uncertainly, “I thought it would be safer to practice with it away from bystanders.” I look around, the sun has long settled and I feel comfortable enough to remove my hat.
“What brings you to the graveyard … Ameiko? Am I in your way?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. I was praying for my father, it’s been a week since Tsuto … since Tsuto– “
I catch my breath, Oh gods! Tsuto! Does she know?
She pauses at my expression, “What is it?’
“Lady Kaijitsu,” she starts to protest but I insist, “Lady Kaijitsu! I am sorry to inform you that we found Tsuto when we were out at Thistletop, and … and we were forced to slay
him.”
I scrutinize her face anxiously, “He gave us no choice, he was fanatically devoted to Nualia and would not stand down. We tried, we really did–”
Ameiko raises a hand, “Don’t make excuses. Do you think I will mourn him after what he did? And what he had planned?” Still there are tears in her eyes and she lapses into a silence I dare not break.
Quiet settles like a blanket, I run a length of scarf through my fingers and consider family and loss as she stares at the stars.
Eventually she rouses, “I will miss them. My father was brute and Tsuto was a fool, but I will miss them.” She takes my arm, “You did the right thing, Rincewind, you and the Wanderers. Better that he should die a murderer than a monster, the gods may still judge him mercifully.”
Looking at the Cathedral she continues, “I think I need to go back in there for a moment, could you wait for me at the gates?”
“Of course, Ameiko.”
We head down in silence, but she attempts to smile and tosses a parting remark as she enters the sacred walls, “By the way, Father Zanthus asks that you kindly refrain from dancing on people’s graves in the future…”
* * *
We silently walk back towards the Rusty Dragon, I suppose we are each thinking about losses. Suddenly she asks, “What were you doing up there anyway? Practicing for the show you Wanderers keep promising you’ll put up for us?”
Glad for the change of subject I respond too quickly “Actually I was rediscovering what my foster mother taught me back in Magnimar…” and stop. What have I done?
“Foster mother? Didn’t you tell me that you were abandoned in Magnimar by your travelling clan because you drank too much and were afraid of open spaces?” Ameiko looks at me with narrowed eyes, “anything else you’re lying about?”
I fleetingly consider my options, cut my losses and try to find my way to another town, or throw myself on the mercy of the court? I opt for the latter.
“My real name isn’t Rincewind, it’s Raesho. I really am afraid of open spaces, even more so of flames. And I was an orphan found on the streets and taken in as a servant by House Goram …” I continue talking for a long time, I didn’t realize how trying it had been to keep to my false identity.
We walk past the Rusty Dragon and end up sitting on the piers of the shipyard before I’m done. I look at Ameiko uncertainly – at least she didn't walk away, yet…
“And the scarf?
“What?” This is not what I expected.
“The scarf,” she prompts, gesturing at the length of metal and fabric coiled round my neck. I realize suddenly that I’d been running a length of it through my hands as I spoke.
“It is my only connection to my parents,” I say, looking down at it. “It served as blanket for a while and now as weapon, but I fear not for much longer.”
“Why not?”
I think of Malfeshnekor and shudder, “There is at least one creature out there that cannot be harmed by mundane blades, and I fear more like it are aiming their claws at Sandpoint. We’ll need enchanted weapons to face them.”
“Is that all? There might be a way around that at least.”
“What?” I ask again, this is really not what I expected. Isn’t she angry at all?
“If you catch him sober, and willing, Das Korvut could empower your blades. He was well known for his craft before… before the late unpleasantness.” Her voice lowers as she says the last words and the shadow of grief flies over her features once more.
I try to say something but she soldiers on, “Of course, you’ll have to get on his good side and I know just the way…”
Tying Loose Ends (?)
“You want us to go where?” Gil-garrand looks astonished. On his left, Heggun looks pensive.
I say, “If these writing are right, it is in a fragile state, we must take advantage–“
“Let me get this straight,” Zefer chimes in, “you think this runewell is dangerous, right?”
“Yes, especially with that quasit running around–“
“Yes, yes.” He points a finger, “So you think it is dangerous. And you want to go back down there to try to destroy it. You! I mean, it is you we’re talking about? No offense but I thought you were a bit of a–“
“Leave the boy be!” Grurag joins the conversation, he waves the last of his chicken leg around as he talks. “Rincewind is finally starting to grow a spine, and I say: Good for him!” He claps a greasy hand on my shoulder, “Boys become men much sooner in the harsh conditions where my people are forced to live, but better late than never, I’ll go with you.”
Heggun nods, “I have unfinished business down there, I will join you as well.”
Gil just shrugs and Zefer closes the meeting, “Fine, but if we’re doing this, we’re doing it tonight and in the morning we go to Foxglove Manor. I still have my name to clear you know!”
* * *
“Ready for the next one?”
I nod tensely, Heggun and Zefer voice their assent. Grurag wipes the blade of his sword against the dead creature at his feet, “I was born ready! Stop wasting time, bard. Get on with it!”
Gil-Garrand spills more chicken blood into the roiling, burning liquid of the triangular pool. The flames dim one more time and a deformed sinspawn appears in front of the ranger. It is struck down before it can even act.
A great cracking sound comes from the raised dais, the walls of the pool shift as the flames gutter and go out. “I think that’s done it,” says Gil-Garrand, “finally!”
With the flames gone I dare climb up next to him, I check the remains of the runewell. The line of sigils engraved around the water is broken, the magic is dispelled.
To have evidence of working magic from the time of the Runelords and to have to destroy it, what a waste!
I try to commit them to memory so I can write them down in my notes when we return to the Rusty Dragon.
Heggun claps his hands, “Now we deal with my business! There’s a shrine out there that needs to feel the pointy end of my mace!”
He leads us out into the corridor where the shrine to Lamashtu sits, the waters in this basin are noisome and dark and the space around them seems filled with shadows.
“Heggun,” I say, “We tried destroying this last time; we couldn’t touch it.”
“Ah, but this time I can call on the power of Desna to aid us!”
Heggun holds his amulet and starts chanting, a glow suffuses the item in his hands and then spreads out to engulf the whole hallway.
“There,” he says with satisfaction, “for the next four hours this is only a piece of rock,” he hefts his mace, “and it won’t be here for long!”
Before he can climb the short stairs, however, the glow around us vanishes, as though sucked away by a deeper darkness. “No! This can’t be!”
Heggun strikes repeatedly at the shrine but his mace bounces off without leaving a mark. The shadows around us darken each time he swings. I look nervously at Gil-garrand and the others.
“Heggun, I think this is beyond us at the moment.” Gil-garrand says with a placatory gesture, “Let’s leave it for now, what do you say?”
“It must be destroyed!”
“We will come back. When we know how to destroy this.”
Heggun lets himself be taken away but he keeps looking back at the shrine, “This is not over!”
Moments in a Haunted House
“Did you see that?”
"See what? Never mind, where's that burning smell coming from?"
* * *
"Gil, this is not the time to be dancing. … Gil? Gil! Snap out of it!"
* * *
"What is in the room? What's that noise?”
"I don't know.”
"Shouldn't we find out?”
"You go find out!”
* * *
"Well, that explains things, doesn't it Gil? How nice of these portraits to come to life for us …
"Something wrong with your hand?”
* * *
"What do you see in there, Grurag? … Grurag? Oh not again!
"Grurag, whatever you're seeing, it's not there… What are you doing? No! Put it down!
"Oh! Oh gods! Heggun! Get in here quick!"
"What is it? What happened?"
"I was too slow, he almost cut his own throat out."
* * *
“Gil, Zefer! You won't believe what is walking down that corridor! A ghost! A real ghost!”
“Aldern! You can't hide from me now!”
“Did it just say 'Aldern'? Let's follow it!”
“Follow it? Are you sure?”
A Cold Trail
“Rincewind! Keep an eye on that ghost! Heggun, Grurag, help me with Zefer.”
“What? Alone?!”
“Do it!”
Zefer is clawing at the remains of the thin sheet of rock that once hid the stairs leading below the house foundations.
“He's been taken over, just like I was!”
Gil doesn't spare me a glance, “I said, follow that ghost!”
Suddenly Zefer starts screaming and scratches and bite marks appear across the flesh of his arms and hands. He falls back, gasping, and blood wells up from the wounds. “Ghouls! Dozens of them. They got m– they got him…”
“Got who? What did you see, Zefer?”
“I was … It was Aldern, he was killed here, on this spot…”
I frown, "Aldern? But then who is –"
Heggun draws a wand and kneels besides Zefer, “Let me see those wounds.”
Grurag grunts, “We're wasting time, you can walk it off, right Zefer?”
He descends into the caverns and looks around, “Now, Rincewind, which way did the ghost go?”
A Close One
Zefer and I wait anxiously at the edge of the cliff as Heggun ties a rope around Stickfoot and lowers it to Grurag so many feet below. The cleric encourages his steed as the giant gecko strains to take Grurag's weight and a minute later the ranger climbs out of the hole. Wasting no time, he draws his new adamantine sword and slashes at the slippery ground at his feet to create some steady footing, he then starts pulling the rope hand over hand and quickly pulls Gil-Garrand's body out as well.
Our bard is covered in wounds, there is no color in his face, and very little blood, maybe the water washed it away, or maybe…
“Is he…? Heggun?”
Heggun looks back at me doubtfully, but Grurag is confident. “It was a close one, but he's going to pull through. I already emptied one potion into him, he just needs a little more.”
Heggun concentrates for a second and uses the wand for good measure, but I can tell he's only placating Grurag.
Grurag carefully carries the half-elf back up the slope and lays him at the entrance to the great cavern, Heggun shakes his head at me behind the ranger's back.
This is my fault, I should have stayed closer, I should have stopped that goblin, I should have–
Gil suddenly starts coughing and rolls to his side, he spits out a lungful of water.
He's Alive!
The Masterstroke
The ghoul that was Aldern rises, his face a sardonic grin. He starts to say something but I can't follow the words, my whole attention is taken by trying to make sense of what I see. Every feature on the ghoul is in focus, everything beyond is blurry. I see every injury the ghost inflicted, and how his leg wounds affect his gait. I see how his muscles tauten to make his mouth move, or his neck turn, I can almost believe I know what he's thinking. And then, the impressions merge into a phantom image, preceding the ghoul in each of his motions.
What is happening? Have the others been affected too?
I try, and fail, to look away until with a supreme effort I manage to slide my eyes away from the ghoul and look at Grurag beyond. The ranger is ignoring the ghoul, he looks at me, at the shape to my right that must be Heggun and to the one on my left that is Gil, then he nods with satisfaction and says, “Now, watch!”. He aims at the ghoul's chest with a full-bodied swing of the greatsword.
The ghoul starts to lean backwards, he puts his weight on his injured leg and I can tell that he means to just sway out of reach, but what I see is the phantom pitch forward. Then the ghoul's leg gives way and he starts falling, forward! The phantom's face starts changing into a rictus of fear just as the ghoul's neck meets the blade … the expression never forms on the severed head.
Grurag grunts with satisfaction, "So, how did it feel?"
I'm still trying to look away from the decapitated body. Spasms run along the muscles and the phantom is fragmenting into conflicting images. Grurag pats me on the back, "Give it a second, it's hard to control at first."
“You made this happen? What did you do to us?”
Grurag's face splits into a rare smile, “I'm the other kind of ranger!”
More Loose Ends
I read the note again.
The Brotherhood…
They forced Aldern here to finish the task that killed his father, and he died for the same reason. Did they not know what waited for the Foxgloves in here, or did they not care?
If the latter… but maybe it is only this Xanesha who suspected, she seems to have her own agenda. What is it that she wanted from the caverns under the house?
“What do we do about this mold?” Gil is looking at what we now know is Vorel's new body.
Heggun answers, “Nothing." I start to protest but he raises a hand, "We can do nothing to rid this place of the necromancer's influence… for now. I will pray to Desna and plead that she grant me the power to purify this place,” and I'm almost sure I hear him add, “and that foul altar under Sandpoint too…”