Author: bftowe

At her command the troglodyte attacked the larger armored Centurion. Ravenna moved quickly, struck the robed “Greelve,” and knocked the wand from his hand. The taller Greelve pushed back the troglodyte and attacked Ravenna. She rolled to the floor and avoided the Centurion’s short sword.  She grabbed the wand from the floor. The charmed troglodyte flew into the two Greelves. There was nothing for it. With only the wand to parry the Centurion’s sword, she ran through the entrance. The unarmed lizardman provided only a brief diversion. The shouts of the stunned Greelves were shouting and in hot pursuit.

She rushed down a ten-foot-wide stone hallway with an eight-foot ceiling and light sources along the walls. There were light sources along the wall.  She passed dimly lit cells. The passage ended in an intersection. The passage extended twenty feet to her right and opened into a brightly lit room. A screaming Greelve ran from the room toward her with an outstretched short sword. The hallway extended twenty feet to her left where it ended and turned to the right in a ten-foot wide passage. Growls and screams continued behind her. Ravenna evaded the charging guard and struck his neck with a heard openhanded attack. The unfortunate guards neck snapped and he fell at her feet. Hours spent studying methods of openhanded combat with the Curates at the Fane of the Setting Sun had paid another dividend. Ravenna scooped up the short sword. She now had a weapon! She ran to the left and then to the right.

Phynne waved the wand in his right hand and threw some red dust into the doorway. Initially the dust sparkled in the frame of the opening to the cell, but soon the particles fell onto Ravenna’s side of the portal. The larger character pulled a well-made short sword from a sheath in his side and stepped gingerly into the room. The second kept the wand pointed toward Ravenna and walked behind his comrade.

“I’ll skewer you if you don’t cooperate. I know you are a witch! We learned of your skills when you attacked us. Why don’t you show the wear of the seasons that you have been here?  How do you do Magick without a wand? Answer!” Centurion Orylan said impatiently.

“Slow down! I’ve just awakened! You must have poisoned me. I’m helpless. What do you persecute me? The stench of the troglodyte is punishment enough!” Ravenna protested.

The robed creature asked, “You must be a leader in your land. We are a people in duress. We have simple needs and want only to engage in trade with your people.”

“Right! We saw what you did in two wars. I saw your actions with my own eyes! I saw my comrades fall before you. I turned your devices against your allies. My people are strong. They will resist you!” the elf answered.

Ravenna loosened the ropes but kept her hands behind her back.

“We have been kind to you. The troglodytes stare into your cell and drool. Perhaps we should start allowing them to spend some quality time within your cell. Their hatred for you is obvious,” Orylan chided.

“Perhaps you should!” Ravenna shouted. “Now!”

At her command the troglodyte attacked the larger armored Greelve.

She clenched her fists.

“You have spirit. We never tire of watching you,” the Centurion Orylan chided.

“Where am I? How long have you perverts been watching me sleep?” Ravenna asked.

The Vydaelian interrupted,” “I’ll ask the questions. I guess you’ve figured out that you are alone but for your eight legged friends.  Death is your only escape.”

Counselor Phynne said, “We might have an option for you. We know you have powerful Magick. If you share your skills with us, we’ll spare your life and allow you to continue to enjoy these comfortable surroundings.”

“How can I turn down such a sweet deal,” Ravenna answered facetiously.

“I’m going to send the troglodyte through the barrier to bind you. Will you cooperate?” Phynne asked.

“Send him in. I’m left helpless. I’ll allow him to bind me,” she quipped.

The smaller Vydaelian uttered a few phrases and touched the bewildered troglodyte with the small wand. The bipedal reptilian creature whimpered when the Protection from Magick Spell prickled his skin and briefly shocked him.

Orylan pushed the Troglodyte through the opening. The beast flew through the aperture, howled, lay on the floor, and whimpered. The simple spell’s Magick protected the trog enough to help him through the barrier.

Ravenna gazed into the Troglodyte’s snakelike eyes and mused, “I can’t believe these guys are this simple.”

The Charm Spell was an intrinsic ability of many sorcerers and sorceresses. The simple mind of the troglodyte made an east target for the Charm Spell.

“I’m famished. But…” the red-haired elf muttered. She tarried and gingerly manipulated the berries.

She had company.

Two elf-sized creatures stood just beyond the entry to the room. One resembled the “greelves” she recalled encountering in Red Mountain, only he was adorned in chain mail armor and carried a glistening short sword. His skin was greenish gray. He was handsome in a bizarre sort of way and had well defined musculature and vaguely elfish features. The second was more slightly built and had iridescent hues of many colors sprinkled through his skin, which was also greenish in its overall appearance. He wore ornate robes and carried only a small wand. The troglodyte cowered behind the two characters in the hallway just beyond the door.

Ravenna’s muscles tensed. She had not experienced this feeling since the last time she was in battle, but how long ago was that?

The armored creature spoke but Ravenna could not understand the dialect. Ravenna stood, approached the opening, and shook her head negatively.

The second Vydaelian tapped his small wand twice and muttered vaguely familiar phrases. Ravenna had heard the Languages Spell but it had seldom been necessary in her forays with Roscoe and Knarra because the Staves carried by the sorcerers of Donothor had intrinsic translation abilities.

The first spoke again, “How was your nap, wench?”

Ravenna smirked and replied, “Step into the room and I’ll be happy to discuss it with you.”

Ravenna studied the walls of her cell and found no other entries. The cell contained no spell components. Could her captors not realize that certain Magick required only the guile of the caster?

Hours passed. One by one memories returned. A twinge of hunger let her know that her stomach was empty and awake. She listened intently. The skittering of the spiders in their webs interrupted the silence. Then she heard the approach of soft steps. Ravenna readied by the opening. The footsteps stopped just beyond the opening to the cell.

“You may as well move away from the wall, wench! I know you’re in there. I don’t care if you eat or not. I’m not going to wait for you,” the voice growled.

Troglodyte! She hated the wretched language, but at least something had interrupted the silence. She had fought many trogs in conflicts in Donothor. She had been a troglodyte for a time. A rod of transformation employed by the great dark sorcerer Roscoe created the ruse during the Great War. Ravenna had never queried as to the origins of the rod, and Roscoe never told her. The device was expended during the conflict but its Magick helped bring down the guards of Red Mountain.

Ravenna answered in troglodyte dialect, “OK. I’m hungry. Leave my food.”

The troglodyte snarled and extended a tray covered by unusual fruits. Green oblong variegated leaves, round reddish brown berries, and blue apples- fruits uncommon in Donothor. The beast extended the tray, which was made of a shiny auburn material through the opening on the floor. The aperture permitted passage of the device.

The Centurion and Counselor watched the troglodyte perform his assigned tasks.

Ravenna Nocerre awakened. Dreamless sleep had left her the gift of headache. She labored to open her dark eyes. The faint gentle light in the room reaffirmed the stark reality of her imprisonment. Unfamiliar stiffness beset four-hundred-year-old joints. Ravenna Nocerre quickly checked her raiment. Everything was gone! All her weapons, armor, and spell components!

“At least I’m left my dress,” the red-haired elf fumed. The simple brown garment still covered her.

Ravenna battled the stiffness, struggled to her feet, stretched, and inhaled stale musty air. The floor, walls, and ceiling were stone. Her ilk’s prized sense of direction deserted her. Sparse furnishings in the eight-by-eight-foot chamber included a simple cot and washbasin. The irregular ceiling was eight feet above her. Webs of tiny luminescent spiders littered the walls and ceiling. A two-foot-wide opening divided the wall to her left. Cautiously the svelte Ranger crawled toward the opening. She actually welcomed the pain in her knees, hands, and feet. The severe throbbing headache was slowly leaving her. The opening beckoned.

“Too easy!” she thought.

Ravenna extended her delicate fingers and allowed one of her tiny eight-legged companions to ramble onto her hand. She tossed the spider toward the opening. The tiny creature met and invisible barrier. A small spark of destructive Magick and brief flicker of light avowed the arachnid’s doom.

“Hmm. I feared as much,” she mused.

Only Ravenna’s uncanny skills with the bow and blade rivaled her skills of Magick. Now, without weapon and spell components, the bewildered first female Ranger of Donothor dropped to the simple cot.

The Teacher Tull went to the first plant on the downward sloping terrain. The old Drelve sang in a low soothing voice. The plant curled its leaves and pulled in its barely visible needle-like thorns. The old Drelve then tenderly touched the spine of the upper leaves of the plant. The Enhancing Plant pulled its limbs upward and inward. This in effect changed the plant from a full bush to a thin narrow plant. Tull then removed a small spade from his pack and knelt to the base of the plant. He delicately inserted the spade into the ground and moved the digging instrument around the base of the plant. He gently pulled the entire plant from the soil, held it aloft, and exposed its roots to the graying light. The gray light from Andreas concentrated on the roots. The entire plant emitted a gray aura. Tull expertly exposed several thumbnail sized tubers dangling from the uncovered roots. He gently pulled the tubers from the roots, but very carefully left one of the tubers undisturbed. He then gently stroked the roots of the plant and carefully placed the plant back on the soft dark ground. The Enhancing Plant’s roots plunged back into the soil. Tull sang again, and the little bush expanded its branches and reopened its red flowers.

“That’s how it’s done,” the Teacher said matter-of-factly. “Disturb only the plants with flowers. That’s the sign that the roots bear mature tubers. Once we have harvested, I’ll tell you more of the Thirttene Friends.”

The young Teacher Pryam produced a smooth spherical gray stone. Three runes appeared on the artifact.

Ǿ ∞ Ǿ

 

The runes on the stone emitted gray light that mimicked the light of the Gray Sun Andreas.

Pryam continued, “Only four elemental stones and the Keotum Stone remain in Alms Glen. At the time of the disappearance of the Fire Wizard Yannuvia, the Mender Fisher presented a guard with the Keotum Stone, which affords protection from Magick. The Teacher Camille Aires discovered the Elemental Stones 13 years after the disappearance of Spellweaver Yannuvia and the folk of Lost Sons and 11 years after the erstwhile Teacher Kirrie and odd cherubic merchant destroyed two Kiennish forts and then disappeared. Though the stones are called Xennic Stones, our forebears possessed them long before the Spellweaver Xenn’s time.”

Xenn interrupted, “My mother Tiffanne told me she chose my name after a dream, not in reference to the stones. My name has served me well. Teacher, do the Annals speak of the significance of the name Xennic?”

Pryam stammered, “I…I thought you’d know more about the stones and derivation of your name. My forebear Kirrie wrote that the Lost Spellweaver Yannuvia first used the term Xennic. The lost Spellweaver said, ‘I’m told…Xennic Stones is merely a name for them.’ The Teacher Kirrie wrote of other stones. The General of Aulgmoor gave the Drelves a Healing Stone in an effort to form an alliance. The elders and the Great Protector Gaelyss surmised the Kiennite didn’t realize the significance of the artifact. Gaelyss kept the Healing Stone for a time, but the stone disappeared with Yannuvia and the folk of Lost Sons.”

The youthful Teacher Pryam and young Drelves clutched sacks containing precious enhancing root tubers. Necessity pressed Pryam into his role at an early age. The first Teacher Dirt was a prolific writer. If someone respected you as a writer, he said your name was Dirt.

In a trembling voice Pryam said, “I am not of much account. I did nothing.”

Xenn quickly interrupted, “Right now, I am not of much account.  You accomplished your task, Teacher. You kept safe the youth and the harvest.”

Alo added, “Using the blade and bow is not your role.”

Pryam observed, “Should we attend the dead enemies?”

Alo urged, “No time! We must seek the safety of the forest. The sounds and smells of battle arouse the beasts. Already the scavengers of the forest gather. Predators will find us.”

Xenn agreed, “Unfortunately I’ve used my strength. I can’t heal our wounded until I rest. Let’s make for Alms Glen!”

Drelvish scouts hurriedly searched the scorched clearing and recovered five Kiennish crossbow bolts, the Droll chieftain’s discarded hides, and a crude amulet made of odd mirror like scales within the thick smoldering fur. A simple necklace made of thick mooler hide fibers suspended the amulet.

 

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