Terrastal hunkered down in the blasted ruins, eyeing the two Lunar cavalry as they sought him out. Some distance behind him was a stream, wending its way down from the Troll quarter of Boldhome; he could tell as much from the noisome smells that reached him every time the mountain breezes shifted in his direction. Ahead of him, beyond the cursed Lunars, was the flat shelf of stone known as ‘Geo’s Pocket’. The buildings here were in ill-repair and poorly-planned, with one being built on top of another without thought for the consequences. The result was a shambles of humanity, forever on the brink of tumbling off the edge of the mountain and onto the valley floor. Those who called this place home lived lives as ramshackle as their dwellings, and it was not a place that welcomed outsiders. Still, it appeared to be paradise to Terrastal; if only he could reach it, he’d be able to give the Lunars the slip for good and all. He could see that the Lunars were unwilling to enter the shanty, and he allowed himself some hope. It was then he spotted movement on the road leading back to the way he’d fled. As he watched, his heart sank as he saw a full troop of Lunar foot soldiers heading his way. Thinking quickly, he stripped down to his breech-cloth, bundled up all but his knife and hid his belongings as well as he could. Then, keeping one eye on the approaching Lunars, he hacked off his hair and beard and wiped dirt and mud over his face and body. If the Lunars found him, he’d play the part of a wandering idiot and hope for the best.
At that
moment, Sandene sat trembling in the Temple of Chalana Arroy on the other side
of the valley. It wasn’t through fear that she trembled, but because she fought
against habits borne of bitter experience to submit to the will of someone
other than the Implacable Anger. She’d been in a similar state all that long
morning, and to distract herself she’d summoned a couple of the urchins that
hung around the temple hoping for gifts from the healed. Gazing upon the pair
with a stern eye, she’d directed the older one to follow Terrastal and Bofrost
and the other to follow Randel and Yrsa, with instructions to return and inform
her of their whereabouts. She skewered the older of the two with a particularly
fierce look, a lad of some dozen summers with an unsightly wen marring his
face. As he blanched under her gaze, she secured a terrifying oath from him
that he would follow Terrastal wherever he went and report back to her, or he
would experience her wrath. Flipping a coin to each, she bade them be off as a
Chalana Arroy priestess entered the chamber, almost tripping over the two as
they rushed headlong to do Sandene’s bidding.
Randel was disappointed to see most of the traders were
Etyries members rather than Issaries but still they engaged him in friendly
banter as he wandered among the stalls. Suddenly he heard the sound of feet
behind him and turned to find Bofrost running full pelt towards him. ‘We need
to talk urgently’. ‘Not here’ said Randel, pulling the sage into an alleyway
off the market.
Once Bofrost had caught his breath, he continued. ‘a Lunar
soldier is dead and Terrastal is missing!’
Randel knew in his heart those two events were connected; he
slumped against the wall and placed his head in his hands. ‘Why? Why can’t he
see the bigger picture? If an opportunity to kill 10,000 Lunars presented
itself he would try and jeopardise it by killing one!’. ‘His temper gets the
better of him’ said Bofrost. ‘Agreed’ said Randel shaking his head mournfully,
‘nevertheless we had better try and find him before the Lunars do, if they
haven’t already’. The two friends hurried off towards the Chalana Arroy temple
to find Sandene and inform her of the terrible news.
In the House of the Healers, Sandene steeled herself before submitting
to the healer’s ministrations as she began her work. She wondered if this was how she died. Not
physically, but the burns and scars left by the Lunar demon had created a new
existence for her – torn from her sisters at the Earth Temple, separated from
her Goddess, and isolated from other people by anger and deformity. It had been
easy to fall back on Death as the answer to everything, hurling herself into
battle knowing that the worst outcome would be that she emerged the victor. But the force of Life flowed into her, and she felt the
merciful touch of Chalana Arroy – perhaps she had been missing something?
Perhaps she had always been missing something? Finally, after what seemed like hours, her scars melted away
and the ever-present pain with it. Sandene lifted her arm as if wielding an axe
– no reassuring agony to reassure her that she was, in the end, just an
instrument of Death.
She threw everything valuable she had at the priestess,
blinking back tears and desperate to escape. Grateful but spiritually torn it
was almost a relief when she met Terrastal in the antechambers, accompanied by
the boy she’d sent after him. A bizarre transformation had taken place; gone
was the proud and impulsive Orlanthi warrior she’d bidden farewell to but a
short while ago; in his place was a filthy, near-naked savage, mumbling
something about an argument that had led to a dead Lunar soldier. So he’d been
unable to restrain himself and threatened not only his own life but that of his
companions and the quest given to him by his god. She laughed abruptly that
this should be a surprise; of course he had! Though the near naked and filthy
Orlanthi looked ridiculous, Sandene felt a long-forgotten pang of anxiety. She
looked at the nervous merchant Randel and the scholar Bofrost, who walked
through the door at that moment and were likewise aghast at Terrastal’s
appearance. Terrestal looked every inch
the madman Randel suspected he was; naked except for a loincloth and caked in
mud and worse. Having cleaned himself up he went on to explain yes there had
been a fight, yes he had killed the soldier and no it wasn’t his fault. ‘Obviously’
thought Randel in a somewhat disbelieving manner. For her part, Sandene cared
if the Lunars crucified Terrastal, if they killed her and her friends. This couldn’t be good.
That afternoon the group had a plan to meet a story teller
at Geo’s Pocket, an inn in a rough Sartarite area just outside the town walls.
It was decided to leave Terrestal behind as the Lunars had probably circulated
his description by now. On the way Bofrost told the group the story of Geo who
had been Sartar’s cook and who opened a number of inns where Sararites could
always find a warm welcome. Less so Lunars as the party passed a group of
demoralised looking Lunar soldiers who had clearly encountered some of the
hostility for which the Geo’s Pocket area was renowned.
As the group entered the area there was a palpable air of
hostility even in daylight, Randel started wish he didn’t look quite so
successful, at least they had Sandene with them who Randel thought was probably
warding off any immediate threat of robbery, though he wasn’t sure even
Sandene’s presence would help after Yelm set.
Despite the rough area a warm welcome awaiting the party in
Geos itself, the bartender recognising them as true Sartarites, repeating the
phrase ‘Geo knows his own’ and even standing them a round of drinks. They
quickly found the story teller and crowded round his table. He appeared to be
God-touched, for he not only did he know Terrastal was missing and sent an
urchin to bring him by a secret route but he also knew the their motivations
and desires telling Randel he was driven by love but he should not focus on one
person. Randel guessed this to be Eirissa, but he had no idea why focusing on
her was a bad idea and he hoped not to find out. The story teller asked where
the party were from and when told Clearwine he asked if the party knew the
heroes of the Broken Tower; there was some prevarication, but as it was clear
he already knew who the party were. As if on cue, Terrastal arrived, having made himself more
presentable. With some encouragement, he started to tell the story of the
Broken Tower once again – and this time Sandene joined in, leaping and whirling
in a martial dance that reflected her destructive fury as Randel sang his
battle hymns – but this brought joy rather the usual grim endings. Maybe this
was what she should do now? Maybe she should be a Temple Dancer?
The story was well received by the occupants of Geo’s and
greeted with thunderous applause which after it had died away was followed by a
slow handclap from a hooded figure.
An Orlanthi revealed himself – he had some grudge with
Terrastal, it didn’t matter what. The result was always the same – one of them
had to die. To rub salt in the wound, the duel would take place at the House of
Death at the old Humakti Temple. It looked like Sandene was being reminded of her
responsibilities…
Though it was clear that Death was still a central part of
Sandene’s fate, she was not going to be tied down by the oppressive Humakti
rituals. Terrastal had impetuously insisted on the duel being the following
morning the preparations began immediately, despite this Sandene continued to
drink, perhaps clinging to one more night celebrating her Healing before the
endless battle began again.
The Orlanth challenger was called Killer, and he was a
Greydog, or something – Sandene didn’t really pay much attention. He looked
competent and put on quite a show in the makeshift arena. What he didn’t
understand is that his skills were not on trial in the upcoming fight – it was
the will of the Goddess who walked out. Looking at her opponent Sandene sighed
inwardly – a confident young weapon-thane simply fulfilling her tribal
responsibilities to support her Orlanthi leader. No matter – it was a duel to
the death, and Sandene would play her part.
The interminable Humakti rigmarole finally came to an end,
and Terrastal stepped into the ring. As Sandene followed him she felt the
weight of divine interest settle around them, and she remembered why - despite
everything – she loved the simplicity and power of battle.
Her first blow was off – perhaps she missed the feedback
from her damaged nerves every time she moved? Her opponent easily parried, but
the swing in reply lacked conviction. Joy began to swell in Sandene’s breast. She leapt and
twirled, her axe catching the Orlanthi woman just below her helm, opening up a
cut on her forehead that bled distractingly into her eyes. As the spike haired
thane wiped it away Sandene almost felt sadness – was it to be that easy? Did
she really not see what happened next? Maybe she is bluffing?
But no, the next axe blow sunk into the woman’s knee, and
she collapsed to the ground frantically signalling her surrender. “No, no”
though Sandene “don’t spoil it! You swore an oath, and your God will welcome
you!” Almost embarrassed for her opponent, Sandene sunk her axe into her downed
foe’s chest to finish the ritual.
Beside her, Terrastal’s opponent was proving more
interesting a challenge. He wielded both sword and shield well and had already
destroyed Terrastal’s shield. But Sandene’s partner was made of sterner stuff,
desperately deflecting the searching sword blows and showing no signs of losing
heart.
Once again, Sandene felt the unfamiliar anxiety. She wasn’t sure
whether the ritual allowed for it, but she was not going to abandon her…well,
her “friend”. As she moved across the ring she felt Babeester Gor guide her
axe, knowing that her goddess was keen to show her rival Humakt what real
battle was all about.
The blow was unstoppable. The Orlanthi duellist efficiently
put his shield in the way, but he had underestimated the power that the Earth
drove through Sandene’s small frame. The blow was deflected, but still ended
deep in his thigh, and he fell to the floor as his ally had done before him.
“Killer” also offered his surrender – throwing his shield to
the floor and offering ransom. Sandene stepped back. This was not her battle,
she had no oath commitment to slay this Greydog for whatever trivial slight he
felt Terrastal had inflicted. She turned her back and walked away, though her
heart leapt a little as she heard her friend finish the duel.
Around her the ring dissolved into all the expected emotions
– anger, joy, relief. But something was out of place, there were onlookers
running back from the temple entrance. Lunars. At least twenty of them in full peltast armour.
Apparently duelling was banned. Sandene bent over and smeared her opponent’s
blood over her cheeks to mark her victory and then smiling, stowed her axe and
walked towards the shield wall. She thought she remembered someone saying that Fazzur
Wideread may be in Boldhome. Maybe this would be a good way to finally get a
chance to meet him…
Seeing the Lunars taking their companions in hand, Bofrost,
Randel and Yrsa followed on behind. As they walked, the master of the Colymar
tribal manor pushed past them, loudly proclaiming that he would speak for his tribesfolk
before the Prince. As he passed, he caught Randel’s eye and in it Randel saw concern
mixed with determination. As the Lunars and their captives moved through the
gate into the Royal Compound, the remainder of the Hero Band found themselves on
the wrong side of the gates as they shut with a dreadful finality. As they
stood in the street with the remaining onlookers, Randel felt a tug on his sleeve.
Looking down, he saw a filthy urchin who leaned in close. ‘Sweet Arkell of the
Lightfingers would like a word…’.
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