Quote: Valdier The thoughts of Erik Darkblood at the start of this tale: "The necromantic manuscripts I studied before we came again to this land told of only a single method for destroying one of the now four evil artifacts I carry. A celestial being, born of the gods must crush it under foot. We only knew of one celestial being, one we could count on, my gifted mount. I wish it were easy enough to pretend he was now in a better place, but the artifact I am afraid claimed his soul in its destruction, no trace of his being can be found by our clerics. Katan I think enjoyed the power a bit too much in controlling the living dead. The dragon blood flowing in his veins must call to him in ways only he can fathom. This one is not pure of heart yet he maintains a sense of loyalty, I doubt his motives still. No dragon of red scales could ever truly be good... The elf wizard, Athos... undead are not his style, but much as all elves, all wizards, if such power could be used for the control of demons, would he risk taking it? Fiora, while I am told she fancies me, I do not doubt for a moment that her heritage as a rogue would be her first priority. She would hardly be the first of her kin to steal artifacts of evil for personal gain. Artemis, the half orc... possibly the most trusted amongst our group, he I believe is the most likely ally. If it were not for his weak will... An offer of ale might be all it takes to make him part with such evil. Brumble, the gnome, Johnathon the bard... neither of great virtue, both wizards at heart. I know they cannot be overlooked when keeping an eye out for danger. While they work their protective magics, I will keep an eye on them both. Benito of Pelor... worshipping a feeble god, and old god. He seeks to right himself in the eyes of his decrepit heathen lord. This one would have many reasons to claim them himself. Even the failing power of his otherwise worthless deity might be bolstered were he to come into possession of such weapons. Fred, priest of the cowardly travel god. No one need question his capability to run if the opportunity presents it. His saving grace may be his divinely granted cowardice. If I can trust in him to act as though his deity does, the most I should worry of is him jumping at his own shadow. No, there seems little I can do to safeguard such items... I must never let them out of my site, out of my grasp. If death must come to those that would try to take them, then I shall miss the friend they once were. I shall pray that Cuthbert not let that day come, but if it must, justice will be dealt swift."

A team of Questors entered the holy city, their latest mission completed. They were laden with wealth, and had tales to tell of their defeat of the Lich-King. Yet, somehow, there was a shadow of gloom over them.

As was their custom, they went to the Temple of Ancient Light first, to report on their mission.

After conferring with the priests there, they went directly to a nearby tavern, to drink a final toast to a comrade.

The innkeeper knew this crew. They came in only once in every few months, yet they were hard to forget: The dark paladin, the tall monk, the small wizard, the elven dandy, the colorful musician, the pair of holy men, the lady in leather, the talking Yak, and the shimmering warhorse.

Truth be told, it was the last two who were the most memorable. Even in this town, you didn’t see many Hardurian snow yaks, and fewer still who could talk. Couple that with the talking horse, and you had a pair you couldn’t forget.

Okay, the yak couldn’t sing nearly as well as he thought he could, but he paid for his drinks like a gentleman, and never got into any brawls.

What was odd this time was that all were present, yet they were drinking to the passing of a friend. He had seen this type of thing more than once, over his years, but usually the friend was missing. This time they were drinking to... the horse?

Listening in was rude, but he was a bartender. The horse was saying, "I’m really the only one who can do it, and you know it."

There was much nodding, but it was clear that nobody wanted to agree. Finally the horse announced, in a loud voice, "A final round, for the house." There was a sad finality to the call.

After draining their glasses, the group headed out, though the hour was early. The bartender felt the need to know something, and caught the Bard’s attention before he reached the door.

"Is he going to die?"

"Yes", came the short reply.

"I never did know his name."

"Horse. Just Horse."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

A group of priests, young and old, stood in a circle in the courtyard, waiting for the noon hour when the light would be at its brightest. The hour wasn’t important to what they had to do, but the event was important enough that some ceremony seemed called for.

Eric Darkblood entered the courtyard, accompanied by his companions, and his horse.

Entering the circle of holy men, he drew out the dark metal skull from his bag. Immediately the evil radiating from it could be felt, would be felt for miles around.

Quickly it was set in the center of the circle, and the Celestial mount approached it.

"Goodbye, old friend", he said to his rider and companion, then he reared and brought both of his front hooves down on the evil artifact. There was a timeless moment when his hooves touched the skull, as the light of his body played against the darkness within it. Then the skull shattered, its evil falling in on itself, consuming itself. At the same moment, the shimmering light of the horse’s body faded, and he fell to the ground. He didn’t move again.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The priests had tried to raise the horse, but it hadn’t worked. His noble soul had been consumed in the destruction of the artifact.

Time passed. Pain eased. The group took rooms in the town, to stay the winter months.

The snows stayed long in the spring, yet the questors stayed longer. Several were spending their days in research, gathering obscure materials, and working on enchantments. Spring came, and with it came other questing groups, each depositing the shards of the World Crystal that they had gathered. Yet this one group stayed on.

Finally, in May, they again packed up and prepared themselves for the road.

As they were about to set off, they were again called to the Temple, for advice and final blessings.

"May the Ancient Light shine upon you, and mark your path well.", came the familiar prayer.

The high priest had more to say, though. "We have conferred long and hard, wondering why the Light has chosen not to call upon you for so long. The answer was made clear to us this day."

Stepping into the room from a side chamber came a man in green and brown. He was known to some, a stranger to others.

"First", continued the high priest, "you are the most experienced, most formidable of our questing groups. There are relatively few missions that call for people of your abilities. But there is more. Corticek, your old traveling companion, came to us just a few days past, seeking you. The Light delayed sending you off, knowing that he would be here this spring. He is to accompany you once again, if you will have him."

Eric was subdued in his response, looking more concerned than usual, but didn’t disapprove. Athos was happy, and welcomed his old friend back. Artemis was also happy to see the druid, and soon introductions were made all around. Although he had left before Brother Benito had joined the group, it turned out that the two had met briefly at the siege of Rettengard, during the Underdark War.

And so the group set out, following the light of the guide stone south and west.

There was an odd moment when Eric went to saddle his horse, and realized that he didn’t have one. He had had neither the reason, nor the heart, to seek a replacement for his companion during the winter months.

Athos quickly offered the holy knight his own horse, since he would be staying at the temple to do magical research, seeking a way to destroy yet another evil artifact.

The offer was accepted, and the quest was renewed.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The day dawned bright and clear, typical of late May near the Holy city.

It had been nearly 6 months since Horse had given his life, and the Questor’s thoughts were on different things.

They were on the road again, the guide stone once again showing them the way to a piece of the ancient Crystal Globe. It pointed east. The distance scale was always strange with this bit of magic, but this time it appeared to be quite a ways away.

Oddly, the stone also showed a dark circle at the center, apparently reflecting the fact that the group bore with them the dark, corrupted shard that was the phylactery of the Lich, Bartholomew. Until a way was found to purge his spirit from the stone, it wasn’t safe to leave it unguarded.

Yet spirits were fairly high, and the pace was relaxed. With an exception or two...

"Where did these horses come from?", Corticek asked. As a druid, he was familiar with all forms of natural beast, yet these were oddly strange to him. The horses stood a good two hands taller than any he had seen, and were massively built. And there were bony plates on their faces, protruding to protect their eyes and nostrils. What bothered him the most was that the horses didn’t seem at all perturbed by the presence of his current companion, a Dire Tiger.

Eric replied, somewhat casually, "The original stock came from the southern edge of Hardur, where the mountains meet the great ice plain. I’ve been breeding them on our estates near Rettengard, and having them trained for war."

"You have estates in the Elven lands?"

"Yes. The Emperor gave them to us last year, for services in the Underdark War. They sort of came with the Knighthood."

Now Corticek was astounded. He looked more closely, and saw that many of his current companions did indeed bear the badges marking them as Knights of the Elven realm. Even the huge half-orc, Artemis. That was definitely a first, he was sure.

Corticek also realized that the great horses were possessed of an incredible pace, as they casually pulled away from his mount, showing little apparent effort while moving at three times his horse’s speed. He would have to pull his horse into a canter to even try to keep up, and even so his companions’ would notably reign in their mounts to keep back with him.

Their paths took them through the mountains that surrounded the Elven realms. Corticek was advised to hand his horse’s reins to one of the others, as they approached the swirling cloud bank that marked the Veil.

The Veil is an enchantment set up to keep outsiders from entering the Elven lands without permission. Anyone entering it would find the path twisting back on itself. Passing it was nearly impossible. In many sections of the mountains, it was not only confusing, but dangerous to try and penetrate the barrier, since the heavy mists blocked vision as well. Many invaders had found themselves stumbling into crevasse, or fields of loose stone that could easily send a horse stumbling and sliding to its death.

The companions showed no sign of confusion, however. They had long since been granted safe passage into and out of the Elven lands.

They timed their passage so they would not be camping above the snow line, for even in late May, there were still caps of white on many of the peaks, and some of the trails were frosty and dangerous.

As always, the rich green of the Elven forests was startling to the eye, made even more so by the season. The fragrance of blossoms wafted over the party as the entire forest seemed to be in bloom. Even Eric’s darker moods lightened in the face of life so vibrant.

Corticek, however, noticed an odd effect. There was an air of darkness that followed the holy warrior, a feeling that seemed to drain away the colors of spring, and quiet the songbirds whenever they came near.

"What is it about you, that seems so... so...", he stumbled, at a loss for words to describe what he was perceiving.

Friar Frederick made light of the matter in his reply: "Oh, you mean the flowers withering and dying where he passes, and the sun refusing to shine on him? He carries three burdens with him, each more evil than the next."

Eric gave the priest of Fharlanghn a dark look. "Let’s not speak of things we don’t want heard.", he cautioned. Like several of the others, he had noticed observers, on and off, since they had left the veil.

Perhaps they were bandits who, seeing the party, decided to wait for easier prey. Or mayhap they were locals, friendly people who decided to be less friendly after sensing the aura around the travelers.

Yet, observers or no, none approached the group, and they traveled in peace.

In four days travel, they covered half the length of the Elven kingdoms, a trek that would normally take a week. On the 5th day since the Veil, and the 8th day of their journey, they approached Rettengard, fabled capital of the Elven lands.

The city still bore some scars from the war, now a year and a half in the past. Yet the Elven determination to keep their lands and cities beautiful was apparent.

Orchards and woodlands were as common as tilled fields, and the people were as likely to herd deer as cattle or sheep. The walls of the city showed signs of repair, places where the stone was intact, but without the ornate carvings that had once covered them. Magic could repair stone, or even replace it, but the artistry of the original craftsmen was lost.

The guards at the gate were curious, but recognized the travelers by their badges of honor, even if they didn’t know their faces.

One of them, however, called on the travelers to halt.

"I know your face, and your name, Sir Eric Darkblood, and you are always welcome here. But you seem to bear an evil with you. We would not have it here."

This time it was Artemis who spoke: "My companion carries three item of such great evil that we dare not leave them unguarded. The first is..."

The guard silenced him with a raised hand. "Your word is enough. If I don’t need to know more, then speak no more of it."

Artemis nodded, and agreed that the fewer who knew of the details, the better it was for all.

"One more thing, however.", said the guard before he let them pass. He handed Eric a folded parchment, sealed with red wax and bearing the insignia of Prince Phalentel.

Eric thanked the guard and opened the letter cautiously. Redleaf Phalentel was an Elven prince, but he was also a wizard and a known prankster.

Corticek made a mental note regarding an odd argument Benito seemed to be having with the guards as they parted. He was trying to give them each a gold piece, which they were reluctant to take. His explanation must have sufficed, however, as they did finally accept, but the Druid’s ears weren’t quite sharp enough hear the details.

Benito groaned as he remounted, adjusting his position in the saddle. "Pelor, but I can’t wait to sleep in a real bed again."

Jonathon laughed as he replied, "You slept in a real bed for 6 months, had a good cot for every night on the road, and we’ve hardly been doing that for a week. You’re getting soft, Benito!"

There was much joking about this, noting that the good priest had indeed added a pound or two through the winter months.

"That’s all well and good.", replied the Pelor priest, "But these horses have boney armor on more than their faces. It’s not my middle that pains me!"

"Well, at least you get to sleep.", commented Katan. The tall monk was known to sleep only an hour or two each night, but he was referring to the Paladin. Eric’s eyes had that sunken look of one who is tired to his soul. He had not slept in weeks, but had rather kept his vigil every night. Each 7thday, he would collapse from exhaustion, but even this was far from restful.

"Well, before any of us sleep, we’ll be enjoying the company of Prince Phalentel, at the palace. We’ve been invited to dinner!", announced Eric, showing the letter he had read.

There were a few odd jibes at the lady Fiora, questioning whether she even owned a gown suitable for such an occasion. Of course, the prince was a notorious womanizer, so some speculation was made on whether she would do better dressed in her normal dark leather. Rogues of her caliber were seldom invited to dine with royalty, so there was much room for humor.

The hour was early, so there was plenty of time to bathe and prepare for their engagement. Fiora did indeed possess a lovely gown of blue silk, and was polite enough to ensure that all the jewelry she wore was not likely to be spotted by its original owners.

Eric prayed and meditated, drawing strength from his god.

Jonathon had a hot bath drawn, and donned his finest clothing, then reviewed his assortment of music, and put a little polish on his latest ballad.

Artemis cleaned and burnished his armor, and immersed himself in the icy water of the spring. Dressing, he carefully slung the silver filigreed crossbow he had won here last year, a trophy for beating Prince Two-Spears in an archery contest.

In fact, all were well dressed when they entered the palace grounds, and all were well received.

As they entered the palace greeting hall, however, there was a problem. The ceiling of the Grand Hall was enchanted to show the starry sky, even during the daylight hours. As soon as Eric passed under the archway of the door, however, that image was darkened, as if the sky had suddenly become overcast. A wailing sound was heard, and in a moment’s time there were over a score of guards in the hall, weapons leveled.

Benito looked flustered. He had had a small count of gold in his hands, but was overwhelmed by the number of men facing him. He pulled his coin purse from his belt, and began to hand coins to the ranks of guards.

"Stop that!", the lieutenant snapped, looking at the coin in his hand. As a bribe it was not only ludicrously small, it was an insult to think he would even accept it.

"But I have to.", began the flustered cleric. "It’s a penance for..."

He stopped as he realized that nobody was listening. All eyes were on Eric.

Though it is hard to gauge the age of an elf by sight, the one who came forward now seemed barely out of his tweens, yet he commanded some respect from the guards.

"Let’s see what the trouble is.", he said with the confidence born of pure inexperience. He began to gesture and mumble.

Brundle recognized the spell at once, Detect Evil. He also knew what the result would be. "I wouldn’t do that", He warned in his most polite voice, certain that he would not be heard, or listened to. Phalentel wasn’t the only wizard with a prank or two up his sleeve.

The young wizard’s eyes widened as he focused his attention on the spell. Then they rolled back in his head, and he collapsed backwards, stunned near to unconsciousness by the sheer level of evil power he had perceived. He had seen the aura of power from three evil artifacts, and had been overwhelmed. It was like gazing at the force of a demon-god, and was much too much for this apprentice.

There was a loud babble of voices, and the tension rose to a fever pitch. Moments later several score more of soldiers arrived, many in the formal armor of the Emperor’s own guards.

With them came Greenglade, the court wizard.

"Now, what’s all this about!", he demanded, obviously unhappy. Unlike the unlikely apprentice, this was a man to be taken seriously. His question was addressed to Eric, who seemed the most likely to actually have an answer.

"I carry three pieces of great evil, so powerful that I dare not leave them unguarded.", he explained.

Friar Frederick gestured to the court wizard. "Can we talk someplace private? I’ll explain everything."

Eric made it clear that he would be part of any discussion of his burden, and the guards made it clear that Eric was not leaving that entry hall.

Benito, meanwhile, had simply given up on his penance, and handed the entire purse to the captain. "Please disburse these among your men.", he implored. The captain was not amused, and simply dropped the sack to the floor.

"Well, let’s have a look at these things. Maybe I can help you with them.", suggested the wizard.

Eric seemed unsure. "Well, there’s a problem. I may, or may not have a Lich in my bag."

"A Lich in your bag?", asked the startled wizard, who flicked his hand in a warding gesture. "You have a Lich in your bag?"

"No, I *might* have a Lich in my bag. I’m not sure."

"Well, it seems like the kind of thing you’d remember, putting a Lich in your bag.", grumbled the Arcane master.

"It’s like this. We have a Lich’s Phylactery with us. It’s in my bag. If the Lich died in the last 6 months, he will be re-forming near the phylactery, which means inside my magical bag. I’m afraid that if I open the bag, he’ll come out. And the other two evil artifacts are weapons, so he could come out wielding both of them. So I think we should leave the bag closed."

Greenglade stared in wonder at the logic of it all. He was unreasonably sure that there was no Lich in the bag, since it was child’s play to escape such a container. Simply puncture it from the inside, and he would be deposited in Astral space. Getting home from there is a simple Dispel Magic away, or a Plane Shift in the worst case.

Still, the situation needed to be dealt with.

"All right, first thing we need to do is separate that Phylactery from the other two artifacts. Here’s what we’ll need." He quickly gave instructions to a runner, and handed him his own pouch.

A few minutes later the runner returned, bearing the now empty pouch, and a small handful of materials.

The wizard tossed a handful of chalk into the air, mumbling as he did so. It fell in a perfect circle around him. Then he incanted again, more seriously this time. When he was done, he spoke: "All right, no magic will work inside this circle, so if the Lich enters he’ll be unable to leave. Hold your bag at the edge, and empty it’s contents into the circle. Guards! At the ready!"

Eric did as he was asked, and soon there where three items on the ground. One was a piece of smoky crystal, like jagged obsidian. The second was a great flail, large enough that it would require two hands for a man to wield it. The third was a greatsword, swirling with low flames.

Greenglade called for the ice tongs from the next room, and they were brought. With these silver tongs, he made to pick up the crystal, but Eric stopped him.

"I would prefer that none handle these items except me. Many would be tempted to take them and flee, and you are powerful enough that I don’t know if we could stop you."

The wizard was mildly insulted, but acquiesced. Eric placed the crystal into the small bag Greenglade had provided, and the two weapons were returned to the original, larger bag.

"Now, come by tomorrow, and we’ll see if we can’t find a better solution for that.", advised the wizard.

An honor guard was assigned to the knight, to keep all safe from what he bore, and what might pursue it, and the heroes were allowed entry.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"Welcome friends", called out Prince Phalentel. He was dressed, as was his manner, in a tunic patterned after autumn leaves, dark moss-green trous, and a white shirt with full "poet’s" sleeves. His boots were calf-high, and russet brown. In short, he was gorgeous, and it was obvious why he had such a reputation with the ladies.

The visiting heroes entered the room, and observed the feast. There were long, narrow tables around the perimeter of the chamber, with assorted cheeses and fruits, bread and pastries. The pages were setting up the iron warming tables near the fire, and the cooks were bringing out the main courses.

The central table itself was of dark hardwood, with a pattern suggesting that it was several slices from a tree-trunk, near the base where the roots collected. The top was polished smooth. There were place settings of silver and elk-horn, and the table was lit by several floating candelabra that drifted about in a semi-random dance. This was a modest setting, by the prince’s standards, but quite elaborate for the traveling adventurer.

"Now, I’m hearing the most interesting gossip at the moment.", the prince began as he gestured the adventurers to be seated. Servants moved forward to fill their glasses as they eased in.

"Rumor has it that you have a Lich in your bag. Is this true?", asked the Prince, quite delighted at the prospect of a good tale.

"Well, it’s sort of a Schrödinger’s Lich sort of thing.", began the Paladin. "There may or may not be a Lich in the bag, and you don’t know until you look. Since I prefer not knowing over finding a Lich in my bag, I don’t look too often." He continued with the tale of their battle with the Lich king, his defeat and escape, and their solution to the army of evil spirits rampaging across the city.

Jonathon was smiling with delight, obviously memorizing the tale for later retelling. He had been present when Eric had battled the Lich, striking his priceless Phylactery from his grip, but to hear the tale told from another view would give the ballad some depth.

Prince Phalentel was also entranced, as were several of the guards, and some of the serving staff as well.

In the meantime, the guests were presented with their choices of the pastries, cheeses, fresh breads, nut cakes, and other assorted appetizers.

Some noticed that the Prince himself ate sparingly of these, although there seemed to be an abundant supply.

Next came the soup: Ox-tail, steaming hot and excellently seasoned, served with rolls of sour rye.

Then a light assortment of greens, to counter the heaviness of the soup.

This was followed by smoked venison, and sliced sweet peppers in some sort of lemony sauce, and warm black bread, freshly baked.

After which came some brandy and sweetmeats.

To be followed by roast boar, garnished with sweet potatoes.

Finished off with sliced fruit in a light wine, chilled.

Most of the adventurers ran out of room long before the meal was over. They saw that there were at least two poultry dishes that were present, but not proffered. Apparently the staff had decided to have mercy on the heroes.

The evening wore on as tales were told and adventures recounted. Jonathon set his fiddle to playing itself as he spoke, so his hands would be free to gesture, and to eat with.

The Prince had a few tales to tell as well, though many of them ended with him fleeing an angry father, husband, or brother.

After many hours of dining and drinking, singing and tale telling, some began to realize something. From their travels with Athos, they knew that Elves didn’t sleep. Athos had had to rest for a few hours, and meditate, but actual sleep was something that Elves simply didn’t do.

The prince was, apparently, "resting" as he sat and told tales. He could probably do this all night long, in fact.

At one point, it was asked, "So, what is it that brings you all to our fair city this time. I mean, the first time you came you captured those slavers. The second time you came, you rescued those children and stopped that horrible De’Bane person. The last time, a war started just after you arrived. I’m hoping that this visit will be more like the first, and not so much like the last, if you take my meaning."

"Well", Eric re-assured him, "I’m just here to pick up a horse, and then we’re off to the north, looking for another crystal shard."

"Really? Is there another one in our lands?", asked the Prince. "Oh, if it was to the southwest, into my own lands, I’d come with you. I’d love to go on another adventure. But you’re path is headed into the Deepwoods clan territory, and Blue Deepwoods hasn’t yet forgiven me for his last Ten-year party. Rather petty of him, to be sure. You see, I spiked the wine with a rare potion that switched everyone’s voices, one with another. Poor Blue ended up talking like Stormy, Count Misthelm’s youngest son. The little tyke has a lisp, you know, and no one could keep a straight face whenever Blue spoke. And the more they smirked, the angrier he got, and the angrier he got the more he complained, and the more he complained the more the people laughed. So I choose not to enter Deepwoods territory. But I will write you a letter of introduction, if you think it will help."

"Well, we’re not sure if this will be in Prince Deepwoods territory, or closer, or beyond. The guide stone is very good on direction, but very poor on distance.", explained Frederick, the expert on traveling.

The prankster Prince looked thoughtful for a moment, an unusual look for him. "Beyond Deepwoods territory are the mountains. If you must enter them, I will ask that you remove your badges of Knighthood, and any other items that might mark you as being associated with the Elves."

The prince stood, and the group noted a slight sway to his stance. Apparently his capacity for wine was not unlimited, in spite of his reputation. He gestured with his left hand, indicating a direction: "If you were to look north", he began, then checked his bearings and re-aligned himself. "Look north", he began again, "you would see a tall mountain peak with a split top. There is a great Blue dragon that lives there. We have an agreement with him. We guard his southern border, and he guards our northern one. We stay out of his territory, and he stays out of ours."

Artemis nodded. "So, this is a good dragon?", he asked hopefully.

"No!", the prince answered pointedly. "But he keeps his word, and so we are unmolested from that direction at least. Please don’t make him angry at us."

"So we can’t kill him?", came the next question.

"Oh, go ahead and kill him if you must. I’d rather you didn’t, but if you must I will certainly understand."

"So, it’s okay to kill him, but not to make him angry"?, asked Benito, who had had a bit of the wine himself. "How do we do that?"

"Actually", giggled the Prince, "I don’t care how angry you get him, if you’re going to kill him anyway. He isn’t exactly a friend, but he is useful."

"Wait a minute. Is Blue Deepwoods a dragon?", came the next inebriated question?

"No, and the dragon isn’t an elf. At least, I don’t think he is. Blue’s name is Blue. The Dragon’s name is something like Stormcloud, or Thundercloud, or something like that. It doesn’t translate from Draconic to Common all that cleanly."

"Who does he guard you from?", asked Artemis. "I thought the Veil kept trouble out."

"Well it does, but it isn’t as impervious as we like people to believe. Half of its value is that people don’t even try to pass it, you see. And those that do manage to get through would then have to evade our patrols, and find a way back out as well, before they could tell anyone that it isn’t perfect. But Orcs still come through, occasionally."

"Orcs!", shouted Artemis. "Go kill Orcs!" He stood, as unsteady on his feet as the prince, and began to march out of the room in a determined fashion.

"Yes, Artemis, we’ll go kill Orcs. In the morning", spoke Brundle, who had visions of his massive friend setting off to save the kingdom from an enemy that didn’t exist.

"Now! Kill Orcs now!", insisted the barbarian, pressing into the hallway outside.

A web spell and a few soothing words later, and things were settled. The Prince sent for a carriage to take the Heroes back to their hall, since some of them could not be trusted to find their way home in their state of intoxicated exhaustion.

Eric took a side trip to the Shrine of Cuthbert, that he had helped found, and there he finally took a night’s rest. Holy ground and the company of trusted clergy, coupled with wine and exhaustion, brought him peace and the dark sleep he needed.

*.*.*.*.*.*.* (Time has passed, a day of travel, the story continues on the following night)

The evening fire crackled warmly inside the magical shelter. Eric sat in a corner near the fire, watching the room, and specifically the lady Fiora. She was sitting directly next to the fire, but with her back to the wall by the hearth so the light would illuminate what she was doing.

She was writing a letter, her quill scratching on the parchment for a few moments, then dipping into the inkwell by her side.

Eric trusted her, and his friends, with his life. He had, in fact, trusted them with his life on many occasions. But he didn’t trust them to resist the temptation of the dark weapons entrusted to his care. He couldn’t afford to.

When Fiora had finished the third page, she signed it, and dusted the surface with sand, to help dry the ink. Then she sat and re-read her words, troubled and indecisive.

Eric observed this, and saw her brow furrow with concern, then soften as a decision was reached. She carefully folded the papers, then reached out to place them in the fire. The flickering light caught a few words that he could make out. His name was at the top of the page.

"Practicing a little black magic?", he inquired politely.

Fiora stopped in mild confusion, still holding the letters. "Magic? I don’t know any magic." she replied softly.

"Isn’t it a form of magic to write a person’s name on a paper, along with a spell, then burn them so that the person also burns?", he asked.

Fiora hesitated. "I’m not trying to hurt you, I just wasn’t sure if I should give you this or not. I mean, you won’t let anyone near enough to you to talk."

Eric looked somewhat relieved, but his mistrust of the lady Rogue was still present. He wanted to trust her, but he knew that deception was her stock and trade.

"Do you miss your horse that much, that you brood so?", she asked quietly. "You are so troubled since his death. You refuse to eat with us, and you hardly sleep at all. I worry about you."

Eric considered her words. They were off target, but only partially so. "Well, he was my friend for many years. He was in my life, and in my mind, for so long that it’s hard to let go." As he spoke these words, Eric realized how true they were. His beloved horse was not just a loyal mount, but had been the one being whose thoughts he knew intimately, and whom he could trust absolutely. He had given his life willingly, to banish dark evil. Now Eric was more alone than he had been in many a year.

Wordlessly, Fiora handed Eric the letter. Still suspicious, Eric touched the folded paper to his magical sword, to dispel any enscorcellments that might be on it. The he began to read.

The letter spoke of love, and concern, in words that I have no right to share with others. They softened Eric’s hard heart a bit, like water against parched, sun-hardened soil. Most ran off, but some sank in.

Eric finished the letter, then folded it and put it away for later consideration.

"Good night, Lady Fiora.", he said quietly.

"Good night, Sir Eric", she replied, then climbed into one of the upper bunks. Was that a tear in her eye? Eric thought he caught a glimmer, but couldn’t be sure.

Then Eric sat at his vigil, alone in the dark.

Quote: Jaxom After an encounter that changed her life (which she talks about in her letter to Eric) she took on the name of Fiora, but her original name was Colleen. I used to play a Halfling Sorcerer/Rogue named Cadbey Bursnell, who is Fiora’s step brother, and it is Cadbey’s reputation that Fiora wishes to distance herself from. Darkblood, as far as Fiora is concerned, has a better reputation attached to it, even though there are others in the group that think differently. I get a little teary eyed when I think of the scene between Eric and my character Fiora. She really wonders if his devotion to his god is so great that there is absolutely no room to love anyone else. But in the back of her mind there’s Horse, a companion that Eric definitely loved and cherished enough to celebrate his life before he gave his sacrificed himself to destroy an evil artifact. I was sitting at the opposite end of the table of Valdier, who plays Eric, so after Fiora decided she should give the letter to Eric, I had to physically get up and walk over toward Valdier and hand him the letter. Valdier put his right hand to his left hip indicating that Eric was ready to draw his weapon. I stopped in my tracks... My earlier choices were; burn the letter which would look really suspicious, keep the letter which would make Fiora look as though she has something to hide, or give the letter to Eric which would be slightly less suspicious than burning it. I took another step in which Valdier motioned that Eric was starting to draw his weapon. I slowly stretched my arm out as far as it would go while never taking my eyes off the weapon hand. Valdier then reached out and took the letter with his left hand. Eric stated that it would take him awhile to read the letter. "Isn’t there someplace you should go," he asked, "like outside and away from me." "I don’t know what your deal is, but I could go over to the bunk and..." I noticed that Valdier was giving me a look that could only mean, if Fiora leaves the vicinity there is no reason why he should trust her and that the letter probably has some spell on it that will destroy him. Fiora, her patience tried, backed up against the wall and slowly slumped down to the floor and waited. I had plenty of time to think about what could possibly be going through Fiora’s mind. When Eric was done he folded the letter up and placed it in his inside jacket pocket. "Well," Fiora asked. Eric replied with, "I’ll answer your question after we deal with the dragon." Fiora reluctantly accepted. While traveling that day Eric questioned Fiora, "Are you after the artifacts?" "No," Fiora responded, "what does that have to do with anything." Eric continued, "If Fred here wrote me letter," pointing toward the cleric, "how would I know if his letter would be anymore genuine than yours." Fiora isn’t good at expressing her feelings to the paladin and her response should have been, "if the cleric is writing you letters like mine then you should be watching your back, since his desires may be different than mine." Fiora quickly responded to his question, "you think that my letter isn’t genuine? I’m not exactly sure what your problem is." Eric obviously doesn’t trust her and I wrote down in her journal... I wish I never gave Eric that letter, I feel so stupid for opening myself up like that. I’m going to let him be until he either figures out what he could have had or he gets lost in his own delusional world. Of course that night she danced with him and left it at that. They’re on their way to see the dragon at this point.

 

Fiora's letter to Erik   As I sit here in front of the fire I feel your eyes gazing in my direction from across the room where you’re sitting. I am not sure if it is of your own will that you now seek isolation. Last night at the inn while you stayed locked up in the wine cellar, my first thought was that you didn’t want my company. Looking back on our visit with the elves, your behavior was a little strange as they helped with safeguarding the shard and its evil essence. Jonathan mentioned at that time that you were carrying a heavy burden, which I assume he meant your horse. I enjoyed your horse’s companionship as well and I will most definitely miss his presence.  Not sure if my thoughts are the result of being in the elven lands or the item I had Athos enhance to increase my wisdom. If it is the item then I didn’t think too much on the fact that in order to protect myself against mind attacks I was opening myself to the attack of my own thoughts. For some strange reason I seem to have trouble expressing my thoughts and feelings to you. I remember a time when we first met everything seemed so easy from talking to touching, I was definitely in a state where I was more relaxed.  I have never told this to anyone, but when the town I was living in was taken over by demons, I saw people come under the mind control of the invading demonic creatures. I learned quickly to act like I was under their influence until I could find a way to escape. I actually didn’t get far before they found out. Back at my family’s ranch when we encountered Rahu wasn’t the first time I had a run in with him. If there is only one creature that looks as he does then he is the one that tortured me, broke my will, and helped get me to fight your people in what he called the Mage War. He made me decide between living my life without my sight and face, thus the scar I had, or to help destroy your land and everything that stood in the way. His torture methods have a way of convincing you to do things you know aren’t right. After countless months of fighting I was discarded into a pile of bodies and left for dead. At that point I felt like an empty shell without a soul. I pushed myself up looked around, and picked a direction and started walking. A group of travelers of a local guild found me and trained me to survive as we traveled from town to town barely staying one step ahead of the raiding demon parties. The demons fight like cowards; they take one village, mentally control the inhabitants and use them in the invasions of other villages. I don’t know how many friends I had to put down, but there was no way I was going to fight for those demonic bastards and if I had to kill my own people, so be it. I wish I could speak of these things with you, but I find it tough to express my feelings and my thoughts. It is nerve racking to even think of you reading this letter. Three times I have stopped and pictured myself crumbling these pages up and tossing them into the fire. Hopefully you will understand and with teaching will help me learn to be a better person. Even your horse, before he performed the act of destroying the skull, showed great bravery. You have shown courage in many battles and I truly regret that I am not as brave or as confident as you in the face of immense opposition.  I am not a fighter for a cause nor do I fight in the name of a god like you do, and at times I wonder what sacrifices you must make in upholding the name of your deity. You have never said there is anything you must give up in the devoted path you travel. I hope love is something for which you can participate in. People of your order, as I understand, seek the pursuit of good and the defeat of evil. Other than a sword and a strong heart, there are not many weapons you can use against evil, but love can be a powerful ally due to creating two strong hearts fighting as one. I obviously cannot replace your horse, for that was a bond I will never understand, but I hope you know that you can talk to me about whatever it is that troubles you.  I do know that over the last few quests we have been through you have been exposed to high levels of evil. Could it be possible that contact with great evil can affect the behavior of a person? Plus we now have several fiendish items in our possession with elusive means in which to destroy them. The fact that they are with us and cannot be destroyed easily troubles me greatly and makes me wonder how it must affect you. Before we retired to this shelter for the evening you asked me strange question, if I had those artifacts you now carry, how would I destroy them? The only thing I could think of was burning them, which didn’t have any effect. When I suggested smashing them you reminded me of the incident with your horse and the destruction of the darkskull. There must be something that can be done, we found out how to destroy the skull, could we not then use the same method to learn of how to destroy the other items. I hope Athos is able to find something useful.  Before I toss this letter into the fire I have one thing I want to put down on paper to ease my conscience. I am willing to give my unalloyed and most intimate of possessions that I have, my love. I would give my love without restraint to you Erik if only you will accept it. It is the one thing I would fearlessly do without hesitation. I may not always show it but I would give all I have to help rid you of whatever burdens you now carry. If it meant to follow you to hostile planes in search of the means to destroy the items of evil you carry I would be honored to be at your side. I will not compete with your commitment to St. Cuthbert, and I would never ask that you give up that devotion for me. If there is a chance that you could share that love and devotion with me I would treasure it above all gifts anyone could possibly give to me.   With Love and Affection, Fiora Bursnell.

Dawn broke cool and clear. The heroes quickly packed up and prepared for the day’s journey.

Fairweather was up before the heroes, and had already caught his breakfast by the time they were ready.

Jonathon noted, as they walked, that Fairweather was mixing way-bread with the fresh fish he had caught, eating as they walked.

"Tell me, friend. Tell me about your people.", he inquired politely. "I’ve seen my friend Katan, who is also a half-dragon, when he eats. How is it that you need fresh, live food, yet can also eat way-bread?"

"Well", explained the towering blue guide, "we need to make the kill to start the meal, otherwise we simply can’t digest it. But once we get things started, we can eat fruit, bread, or whatever else."

"Really?", Jonathon asked, making notes in a small book. Katan was the only Half-dragon he had ever known, and had been reluctant to share some facts. According to him, his people ate humans, children being preferred. Fairweather seemed so different that he wondered if Katan had been pulling his leg.

Fairweather spoke a bit about his home, the tiny trading post and the inn that were the only real buildings in the town, the way his people herded sheep and goats that could find food on the steep hillsides where he lived.

Meanwhile there was quite a different conversation going on.

"Really!", Frederick was insisting. "My god has given me the power to resist some magic. Go ahead and try it."

Eric, certain that Fharlanghn was a weakling deity, was all too happy to oblige. He gestured, and a club sprang into being, racing towards Frederick and striking him of its own accord.

Whatever magical resistance he deity may or may not have granted didn’t seem to be working. The club struck him soundly, nearly forcing him off of the magical steed he was riding this day.

There was some laughter as he tried to evade the pummeling attack. After only a few blows, Eric dismissed the enchantment, and the club vanished.

"Maybe it doesn’t work on weapons.", Frederick suggested. "Somebody Fireball me!"

Instantly there was a circle around the cleric, as people moved clear of the area. The only Fireball hurler with them at the moment was Brundle, and his fireballs *hurt*.

Fortunately, nobody took Frederick up on his request. Even so, the debate continued.

"So", asked Artemis, "Where’s this dragon we’re supposed to kill?"

Fairweather stopped and stared at the half-orc, unsure if he was joking or not. Artemis expression showed no trace of humor.

"We aren’t going to kill the dragon, we’re going to get the crystal.", corrected Frederick, abandoning his self-destructive argument with Eric for the moment.

"Well, I though we were going to kill a dragon.", state Eric firmly.

"What is it with you people?", demanded Fairweather. "Is it the ’Knight in Shining Armor’ thing, that makes you want to kill dragons?"

"Well, there’s lots of dragons in those mountains, you know.", stated Eric. "We weren’t necessarily talking about your king."

"There’s exactly one dragon in my homeland, and I can’t believe that you’re talking about killing him right in front of me.", Fairweather protested.

"Well, we won’t kill him in front of you, if it bothers you that much.", offered Artemis, in a conciliatory manner.

"I can’t listen to this", screamed Fairweather, clamping his hands over his ears. "Naaaa Naaaa Naaaa-I’m not listening", he began to chant, in an attempt to block out the sound."

The argument continued about whether or not they were going there to kill Stormcloud, or proceeding north to kill Frostflower (Stormcloud’s silver-scaled girlfriend), or just going in on a tourist visa. The conversation shifted to other dragons the group had killed, and included phrases about being hip-deep in dragon blood.

"Look", protested the half-dragon guide. "Yesterday you were talking about sneaking in when he’s asleep and killing him, and asking me if I’d stop you. Now you’re talking about it again. I can’t believe you people!"

"We were just trying to get you to say you were a guard, so Benito would have to pay you a gold piece.", protested Frederick. "We weren’t talking about actually killing your king".

"So you say now. But you mentioned evil artifacts too, then denied having any, then admitted that you did have some. How can I trust you?", came the exasperated reply.

"Well, we could talk about how many humans we’ve killed.", offered Eric. "I mean, if you count the undead ones, we’ve killed over a thousand. In the Underdark War, I killed so many Orcs that their bodies blocked the tunnel we were in. I nearly died myself in that battle!"

"Yeah, but the only way you could have died that day would have been if the pile of corpses had fallen on you.", joked Artemis.

Then the debate went back to dragon slaying, the slaughter of the White Queen of Hardur, and her hatchlings.

Finally, Fairweather could take no more. He stopped short. "Look, I can’t guide you if you’re planning to kill my king.", he declared.

"So, stay on this trail, bear right when it forks at the spring, half way up the mountain, and then stay on it. You’ll find your way without me. I have business with the Elves."

The group stood aghast as their guide stormed off, re-engaging the illusion that cloaked his real form as he headed back down the trail. His odd behavior made it clear that he didn’t really mind them doing their work, he just didn’t want to know about it.

The banter continued on, lightheartedly trying to determine if Blue Deepwoods (the Elven Prince) was really a dragon, and if so what kind, and whether he was related to Stormcloud.

They reached the spring by the trail at about the mid day hour, as promised, and elected to press on, eating as they rode.

The trail was steep in places, winding back on itself as it traced across the rocky face like a bloodhound tracing for a scent. However, by evening the way was leveling out, and they were entering the narrow saddle of the pass.

Better news yet, the guide stone which pointed towards their goal showed that they were very near. Almost on top of the shard they sought.

The village was much as described as well. A trading post and a small inn appeared to be the only structures. A small corral was attached to the inn, where goats were kept.

The people in the area were openly curious at the heavily armed strangers. There appeared to be many of the blue-skinned half-dragons, one or two with silvery scales, some humans, some dwarves, a fair percentage of half-orcs, even a few full orcs were seen, with hardly a weapon in sight.

Artemis approached a passing half-orc. "Hail, friend", he called, giving the man the benefit of the doubt. "We’re looking for the dragon. Where can we find him?"

The man eyed the warrior with a calculating eye. "Well, you can follow the trail over there, if you’re in a hurry to die. Or, for a price, I’ll go see if he’ll meet with you."

Artemis drew forth his jug. "Ale?", he offered, as a way to open the negotiation.

The man quickly raised his tankard, and watched the warrior fill it with the dark brew. "Done!", he declared. "I’ll go make that appointment for you. Be at the Inn in an hour." And without another word he turned and headed up the trail, towards the split peak.

Artemis stared in wonder. "Hey Eric, is he okay?", he asked, trusting in the Paladin’s instinct for such things.

Eric had been reviewing the feeling of the people. The half-dragons were predominantly evil, though not strongly so, nor was the aura universal. The runner also registered as mildly evil, though many of the others in the area showed no such tendency.

"He’s evil.", he declared.

Quickly, the party turned to follow the man, lest he attempt some treachery.

They made no attempt at silence, but neither did they try to overtake him. They simply wanted to see where he was going.

The trail began to wind, so that when they next caught sight of the runner he was speaking to a pair of half-dragons that stood guard on the trail. They nodded to the half-orc, and let him pass.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The heroes hesitated for a moment, and then advanced on the two guards. They were resolved to continue up the path, but didn’t want to kill the guards if they didn’t have to. Therefore, diplomacy was in order.

"Hail", called Eric as he dismounted from his horse. "We’ve come to meet with Thundercloud."

The two guards looked at each other in surprise for a moment, then one of them replied, "Well, he’s not in at the moment. Evening patrol, you know. Are you the travelers old Whiteye was talking about?"

"Yeah.", replied Artemis as he also dismounted. "He was supposed to meet us at the Inn for an ale, but we decided to come up and see the King now."

Both guards’ expressions brightened at these words. "There’s ale at the Inn?", the first one asked. "Fairweather must have come through!", declared the other happily.

Artemis was somewhat confused. "You mean, the Inn doesn’t normally have ale?", he asked in shock. The thought of a tavern without ale was as odd as a lake without water.

"Well, no.", came the reply. "There’s only ale when Fairweather or Shadowfoot bring some in. We make some wine, and there’s borlaught, but ale is a rare treat."

The light slowly dawned on Artemis. He had seen some fruit trees in the mountains, though not many. He had seen goats, whose milk would ferment into borlaught. But he hadn’t seen any fields of grain though, and without grain there can’t be beer or ale.

"Well, we have ale", he said, indicating the four large casks that rode on Yak’s back. "Want some?"

The guards were pleased at the offer, and enjoyed the rare treat. "Well, that does make a difference.", declared the bolder of the pair, as he took a pull from his tankard. "I’ll let them know up at the castle, and you’ll be sure to get the first audience of morning."

"Now wait a minute.", protested Yak. "You aren’t going to give them *all* the ale, are you? You need to save some for me, you know!"

The guards stared, slack jawed, at Yak. They may or may not have seen a Hardurian snow-yak before. The huge beasts looked like a mountain of hair, with legs, and were hard to forget. But they had certainly never seen one talk before.

"No.", assured Artemis. "I’ll sell a cask to the Inn, one to the King, and keep the others for us."

The lead guard rapidly excused himself, and ran up the trail to confirm the audience, and to spread the word that there would be ale at the inn tonight.

Frederick stepped up to Eric, speaking softly: "Maybe we should go up and have a look around. If we can find the shard before the dragon returns, life will be a lot easier."

Eric wasn’t too sure. A low debate broke out.

"Say", said Artemis, getting an idea. "You’re an official representative of the King, aren’t you?", he asked the guard. "Maybe you need to test this ale, to make sure the travel hasn’t spoiled it."

The guard looked around, to be sure he wasn’t being watched, and then stepped back to Yak’s side, tankard in hand. Artemis quickly waved his companions up the trail, as he held the guard’s attention.

The debate ran on, however, and before anyone could really take advantage of the opportunity, the guard had turned around and was watching again.

"Who are you folks, by the way", he asked as he sipped the rich, dark brew.

"Well, I’m Eric Darkblood. This is Artemis, Frederick, the lady Fiora...", Eric trailed off as he saw the look of shock on the guard’s face.

The guard stumbled back to his post. "I know you. Are you the ones who killed the Frigid Queen of the North?", he asked in awe. They nodded. "And cleared the cursed forest?" Again the nod. "Wow!"

"Yeah. We killed Shardalon, the demon-dragon too."

Jonathon gestured furiously. "Ix-nay on the agon-dray illing-kay stories!", he warned. But the guard was even more in awe.

And so tales were told over ale. They spoke of Eric’s battle with the Girallon, over the pit of Velociraptors, armed only with his gauntlet, and without armor.

"I’ll show you how that looked", offered Brundle, drawing forth a horn. Before any could stop him, he had drawn a breathe and sounded the enchanted instrument. Before the sound had faded, four Girallons formed, their shimmering fur testimony to their Celestial nature. "Get him!", he commanded, indicating Eric.

Frederick quickly leapt clear, climbing to a low tree branch. He knew that the mighty warrior had an unnatural fear of Girallons, even though he had long since learned the needed tactics to defeat them. And, though Brundle had summoned these as a joke, it wasn’t too smart to stand in the area of the fight that was about to begin. Besides, his perch gave him an excellent view of the fun.

Eric drew his blade, and began a weaving dance, shifting his feet rapidly to avoid the grasping hands of his huge, four-armed opponents. Then, though reluctant to strike a creature of heaven, he struck.

Suddenly, thundering down the trail came 10 more of the dragon-warriors, weapons at the ready. Three of them waded into the fray, evening up the odds.

The leader and the rest stood, pikes leveled. "Who sounded the alarm!", he demanded.

Everyone looked about in surprise. No alarm had been sounded. Then Brundle looked at the summoning horn, still in his hand, and realized the mistake.

"I wasn’t sounding the alarm", he explained. "I was just summoning some guards.", meaning his Celestial guardians. The confused argument lasted longer than the Girallons, who fell in a few rounds. Though engaged by the dragon warriors, they had continued to press their attack on Eric as they had been commanded, and were thus easy prey for the pike-wielding half-dragons.

All thoughts of sneaking past the guards was now banished. The captain, seeing the badly hidden tankard belonging to the on-duty guard, was clearly unhappy. But not without understanding.

"Well, since you’re already drinking on duty, you might as well escort these people to the Inn. You’re useless at your post, anyway."

And so the heroes turned downhill, having had their audience with the King confirmed for just after the following dawn.

"Would it be alright if we built our own Inn?", asked Eric, as they wandered back down the steep trail. He preferred sleeping in Jonathon’s magical shelter, to public accommodations, particularly in a land as well populated with evil as this one. Not that he would sleep, nor even that the land was well populated.

"Would it have Ale?", asked the guard. "We could really use a place that had ale all the time." He seemed to be a relatively simple being, with a one-track mind.

"Well, it’ll have ale until we run out", commented Artemis, measuring his supply against the half-dragon’s capacity.

Meanwhile, Jonathon was looking about for a level spot to summon his shelter on. There wasn’t much of one. No matter. He drew out his magical Lyre, and began to play.

The music was beautiful, the beat infectious, making one’s feet want to tap with the cadence. Soon, the rocks were moving with the beat as well, and a wall began to form from the stones of the hillside.

"By the rock face!", indicated Frederick. "Make an entryway there, and a small cave behind it. I’ll handle the rest.

Without question, Jonathon shifted his attentions, and his Lyre of Building did the rest. Stones came from a single place on the hillside, and soon there was a shallow cave with a stone wall framing the opening, and a well paved path that lead down to the trail.

Frederick now incanted, asking his Deity for a Miracle. And the Traveler god responded, creating a traveler’s rest. (Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion).

Upon entering, they were greeted by mystical servants, a broad and friendly common room, stables to one side for the mounts, and a feast fit for a dozen kings.

"Ginger fizz, for my friend", he called, indicting the slack-jawed guard. "With a twist of Lemming!", he added, remembering the half-dragon’s need for live food.

Within an hour, other guards, on their way down to the Inn, had seen the lights and come to explore. A bucket was set by the door, where contributions to Fharlanghn could be left. Beyond that, no fee was asked for food or drink.

The Inn down the hill soon emptied into the new one, and the party was on. Jonathon drew forth his fiddle, adding music to the merriment, and merriment soon followed, accompanied by many cries of "Praise Fharlanghn!"

(Author’s note: The Miracle spell can duplicate lower level spells, hence the Mansion. It comes with servants (34 in this case), food and drink sufficient for several hundred people, and about 5,000 square feet of rooms, configured to taste. Instant Inn!)

An hour passed, and then another. Eric and company ate and drank freely; though Eric protested the calls of praise for the deity he considered a coward and a weakling. Soon he had a chorus of "Praise Cuthbert", running as well.

"Tell me about Thundercloud", he asked the captain of the guard, who seemed much less severe when off duty. He had checked, and this particular half-dragon wasn’t evil, and seemed a decent enough sort.

"Well, he’s a good king. A bit harsh at times, but fair. His law is very simple: Any who wish to escape from the wars and troubles of the outside world are welcome here. Leave your troubles at the border. Bring no grudges, and no enemies. Live in peace, and peace you will have."

Eric was amazed at the simplicity of the system. He was sure that there had to be more, but didn’t press the point.

Still... "So, his rule is just?", he asked. "Is he, himself, friendly?"

"Well, he’s getting a bit odd there. You know how it is. As always in a case like this, there’s a woman involved.", the captain confided. "Women! Always want to change their man. He has a girlfriend, north of here. Frostflower’s her name. And she doesn’t approve of "evil", and won’t put up with it from him. So the king tries to do better, but he isn’t very good at it, if you know what I mean."

"Well, it looks like he’s taken some other mates as well", Eric commented, looking around at the half-dragon population. "How many children does he have?"

"Well, he has 18 children by human women, but that was before he met Frostflower."

Eric, now on his fourth ale, had a hard time envisioning the dragon with a human woman. "How is that possible?", he asked.

"Well, he can take human form.", came the reply. "I’ve never asked about his love life, but he’s apparently had an active one."

Eric was filling in blanks, in the "knight in shining armor" way: Now he knew why evil dragons kidnapped fair maidens, and people like him were always off rescuing them. Never mind that he had never run into such a case, personally, nor had he ever met anyone who had had to deal with such. It was still an important answer. Did I mention that he was on his fourth ale?

His train of thought was interrupted by another cry of "Praise Fharlanghn!", as more entered the Inn.

These newcomers didn’t seem at all happy to join in that cry, however. They were human, and wore dark, spiked armor. Eric recognized the craftsmanship, having worn similar armor until just recently. He had taken his from one of the dark knights of Hextor. His gut clenched.

"Why do you praise the fleeing god!", one of the newcomers demanded. He was an obvious veteran, a man who carried himself with command, a man used to having people back down before him.

Eric stepped forward, his hand going to his blade. A hush ran through the room. It was broken by a single word, spoken with authority.

"No!" commanded the Captain of the Guard. "I know of the wars in your homeland. You may not bring that grudge here!" His words were for the holy warrior, but his eyes were on the Hextorian warrior.

The man stood, a cocky smirk on his face. "If this one wants a fight, all he needs to do is challenge. I am Darkthorne, champion of the church."

The captain quickly explained that personal challenges were allowed but only as fair fights.

Eric eyed the man, taking his measure, and finding him severely wanting. "All right, but if it has to be a fair fight, your friend will have to help you."

Snorting at the insult, the dark warrior stepped forward, eyes flashing with anger. "Step outside!", he demanded.

"No, use one of the upstairs rooms", suggested Frederick, who had also had a few ales. "The one at the end, on the left, will do fine."

"Isn’t that Benito’s room?", asked Brundle quietly. Frederick’s giggle answered him, as both looked over at their friend’s form, snoring in a drunken stupor.

The two started for the stairs, with Clearsky, the guard captain, shooing people away.

There were protests, as many wanted to witness the fight. The strutting manner of the Hextorian guard was well known, and he had few friends here. They wanted to see him brought down a few notches.

Darkthorne protested as well. "If he gets a second in the duel, then so do I!", he demanded.

"I’m not his second.", stated Clearsky firmly. "I am the witness, that the duel is fair."

"There are plenty of witnesses right here!", Darkthorne shouted. "Make a circle, and we’ll do this here and now!"

Tables were cleared, and a rough circle was formed.

"Wait a minute!", demanded Eric. "I’m, not ready." Quickly he friends saw to his needs, refilling his tankard, and securing his locking gauntlet around it, lest it spill.

Eric saw the man reach for his blade, and knew that the man was quick and practiced. He also knew that he was quicker. Still, he let the other man take the lead, to see what he had.

Darksky came in hard and fast, landing three solid blows in the twinkling of an eye. But landing blows on armor is far from landing blows on the man within that armor. Eric was untouched.

If the other man was fast, Eric was blinding. Though he had started with an empty weapon hand, his blade fairly leapt into his grip, and he struck the other solidly. And, unlike his opponent, his blade found the seam in the armor, sliding in to impale the flesh underneath. His follow-up was equally unexpected: He raised his tankard, and took a sip, then re-sheathed the blade.

Darkthorne clutched at his wounded side, but gritted his teeth and pressed on. Again, his blade struck home, and again it failed to penetrate the mythral armor.

Eric’s blade sprang out once more, and moved with deceptive grace as he, almost casually, traced another bloody path down’ his adversary’s ribs. He had hardly looked up from his drink.

At this point, Frederick stepped in. He spoke words of calm, and of healing. The blessings of his deity flowed over the crowd, bringing a feeling of well being to all. The seeping wounds of the Hextorian knight closed, and the blood dried. In seconds, he was restored to full health, as were most of the others in attendance.

The smart thing to do would have been to take the opportunity to leave, but no one had ever accused Darkthorne of being smart. With renewed energy, he he lashed out at Eric, and actually managed to pink him lightly this time.

Eric looked perturbed, and struck twice this time, re-inflicting the wounds that had just been healed. His opponent was in shock, staggering from blood loss and pain. Hatred overrode common sense, and he pressed forward one last time.

Eric eyed his target closely, taking careful measure. When he was satisfied that the level in the tankard was just right, he struck out with it, invoking the holy wrath of his deity as he swung.

The tankard connected, with the power of god behind it, and the wounded knight’s pain ended. He fell to the floor, soaked in spilled ale and his own blood, his face carrying the impression of Eric’s family crest, straight from the face of the drinking vessel.

Amid roars of approval, the drinking resumed, and Darkthorne’s companion moved forward to staunch the fallen warrior’s wounds. To his dismay he saw that the blood flowed no more. His friend had died an ignominious death, felled by a tankard in a bar brawl. He lifted his fallen friend, and hefted him across his shoulders.

"Who are you!", he demanded, glaring at Eric.

"I’m Sir Eric Darkblood, Knight of the Chalice, Knight of the Seventh Star, and champion of Cuthbert!", came the confident reply. "If your friend had asked that earlier, he might have had the sense to back down."

"I’ll be back!", came the angry half-threat as the warrior beat a hasty retreat.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The party at the Inn began to subside sometime around midnight. There was plenty of food left, and there was even ale to spare, but the Bard’s voice was getting a bit worn, and the hour was getting late.

Frederick noted that, while Jonathon had told many tales this night, and sung several ballads, he had carefully avoided dragon-slaying stories, and had even re-worded some of the ballads (extemporaneously) to skirt around that aspect of the adventuring life.

Finally, the heroes were alone. Eric checked each of the rooms, toted the slumbering drunk out from behind the bar, and finally locked the door. They were in their own private dimension, and forcible invasion was essentially impossible.

Each of the heroes went to their own rooms, and collapsed into sleep. Even Eric, though he dozed for a mere two hours. He knew that he had to be rested and ready for the next day. They might end up fighting the dragon-king, and his guards.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

As dawn broke the next day, the Questors were up to greet it. Their blades were sharpened, and their armor cinched into place, ready for battle. Or for peaceful negotiations, whichever came up.

They locked the door to the Inn when they left, and made their way back up the winding path towards the split peak that marked the home of the dragon-king, Thundercloud. The guide stone, that magical device that helped them find the ancient shards, still showed that they were right on top of the stone. Apparently the scale was such that it was someplace in an area roughly 3 miles across. It was usually more accurate than that, but it did vary, for reasons known only to the ancient gods of light.

Still, it was re-assuring that they were so close to their goal. And so, well heartened by this knowledge, they set off to meet with Thundercloud.

The winding path lead them back to, and past, the guard point they had stopped at the previous evening. Two of the dragon guards fell in beside them, as guides and escorts, and probably to keep them from wandering off and getting into trouble.

15 minutes later, they were facing something that they hadn’t seen before, in all their travels.

Before them, lay a low, wide fortress of stone, each block so massive that a hundred horses couldn’t have moved it into place. They had seen larger castles, and higher walls, but the sheer massiveness of the construction was unmatched. It seemed to be built directly into the cliff face.

The front gate was wide open, and their guides escorted them inside. Eric looked around, his eyes spotting all the points from which enemies could strike, when the signal came. They were all occupied.

Ahead of them was a broad courtyard of laid stone. As they entered, the guards pulled off to the side. They were facing a stone wall, without seem or opening, that went up a good 30 feet. Broad stairs stood to the left and right, sweeping up to that higher level, well populated by dragon warriors.

Then their eyes were drawn upwards, as were the eyes of all others present. The King had arrived.

He had apparently strode out from some inner chamber, but now stood above them like a tower of blue. If he wasn’t a Great Wyrm, he was close enough to fool most people.

"Greetings, travelers." his voice came, low and rumbling, but not angry. "It isn’t often I get visitors of such great renown. What brings you to my realm?"

Eric stepped forward confidently, and spoke for the party, as was often his role. "We come in peace, seeking only a crystal shard, a piece from the Great Sundering." Behind him, Frederick held up a similar piece of crystalline stone, bright in the morning sun.

"Hmmm, I have heard of your quest. But I have no such stone. ", came the brief reply. He was not a skilled liar, however, and it was clear that he was hiding something.

"Are you sure?", asked Frederick? "Perhaps you know where one is?"

"I have no such stone!", came the reply, a bit more insistent.

There was a moment of silence at this impasse. Artemis prepared to loose his blade, noting that the guards had left the center area of the courtyard open, a clear path for the dragon’s breath.

Finally the silence was broken. "You know that you must now leave my lands, don’t you?", asked the dragon. "The law is clear: Those who wish to join us here may do so freely, leaving the troubles of the world behind. Since you have no wish to join us, you may not stay."

"Surely, we can have a few days to find the stone we seek? ", implored Eric, still trying to be reasonable. He had seen something his companions had not, something visible only to him. His instinctive sense for evil was telling him of the dragon’s nature. He was radiating a powerful aura, but it was not powerfully evil. In fact, it was barely on the dark side at all. A strange situation indeed.

"Hmm. Sir Eric, you are known as a man of your word. You may approach me, and we will discuss the matter. Bring one whom you trust."

Artemis readied himself, knowing that he and Eric would be most useful if they could close with the dragon. To his surprise, however, Eric called out to Fiora, and asked for her to accompany him.

As they walked up the left hand stair, Thundercloud eased away from it, giving them room. He lay his great head down, his chin on his front claws, quite at ease, eyes now level with his human guests.

Fiora started to bow but the dragon told her not to with a chuckle like boulders rolling down a hill. "You really don’t need to do that. ", he explained. "I’m not worried about others having their heads higher than mine."

Then he spoke again, in a much softer voice, soft enough that it wouldn’t carry except to the sharpest of ears: "There may be a way to help both of us, Sir Eric.", he began. "I have a slight problem."

"Yes", replied Eric. "You let the Church of Hextor in."

"Yes. At first they seemed all right. Our philosophies seemed similar: The power to rule grants the right to rule. But lately I find that they are unwilling to accept my rule. Clearsky reports to me that their champion was again trying to lay down his church’s law as supreme over mine. Until he met you, that is. Now he faces his god directly. Now, I could eliminate them if I so chose, but they have gathered enough followers among my people that I would have to kill many of my own. The politics would be unpleasant."

Eric nodded thoughtfully. Personally, he would just as happily go ahead and eliminate all followers of the church, but he could see why the king might hesitate.

"So here is the deal. You and yours must leave, that is the law and I must enforce it. But I don’t have to enforce it right this minute. So if you and your friends were to drive the Hextorians out of my lands, and just happened to find that which you seek in the process, how could I object? I’d have to order you out, for bringing your grudge into the land, but then I’ve already ordered you out, so there is no penalty to you. If, on the other hand, you were to kill every last one of these troublemakers, and leave no two stones of their temple standing together, then I’d have to call you all up here again to answer for it. And I would allow you to select one item each from my treasury, before I ordered you out of the land."

Eric nodded agreement. Before turning to leave, however, he felt compelled to make a statement: "Normally, if an Evil dragon asked me to do his dirty work for him, I’d have his head on my wall, and his claws made into necklaces. However, since your reasons are sound, and you are about as powerful as a deity, I’ll make an exception this time."

"Good decision.", the dragon replied with a smile.

"Now", continued the dragon in a louder voice, "I hear that you have ale." As he spoke, his form altered, and he assumed the guise of a human man.

A cask was soon unloaded, and a tankard soon filled, and the tension left the group. None below knew what bargain Eric had struck, but they were sure it was a good one.
 

Quote: Jaxom From Fiora Bursnell’s Travel Journal I keep getting glances from Eric and it’s making me wonder what he could be thinking. There are three possibilities that first cross my mind. First, I feel he could be wondering if I am being truthful in what I have written in that letter he now carries, so he is trying to read my intentions. Second, he could be indicating that he does believe what I’ve written and is trying to figure out his own feelings toward me. Third, he is doing that detection crap to be sure I haven’t slipped in alliance with a darker path. I swear if I find out it’s the third… I am not sure where I stand or even if there is a place for me in Eric’s life. Why could I not just leave my thoughts to myself? In my letter I said “I would give my love without restraint to Eric,” but I never even questioned the likelihood that Eric even notices me in the same way. I feel foolish that by clearing my conscience I am just putting another burden upon Eric. As if the passing of his horse wasn’t enough now he has to deal with a lusting emotional selfish girl. Then there’s horse; a companion that I think brought a lot of comfort to those around him, especially his rider. Maybe I’d be better off not to bother Eric anymore with my troublesome questions. I won’t pursue the issue any further until Eric indicates he is ready. We went to go see Thundercloud, the dragon king of the area, and he did not kill us when we entered his cave like I expected he would. Thundercloud had actually heard of Eric and the group and evidently felt we were trustworthy. He asked Eric to come up and speak to him and to bring along someone he trusted. Someone in the heavens evidently feels the need for me to be tested. Since I have stated I would give anything to help cast out any burdens Eric carries, I feel that his god, St. Cuthbert, is now testing me. Eric stands before our group now, his eyes go from each one of us to the other and back. If I am being judged it is for my worthiness of giving my love to Eric and of my past. I am sorry for those I killed who were under the influence of an evil power! I am sorry I put my feelings down on paper so I may ease my conscience thus putting another burden upon Eric!! As Eric makes his choice, my mind gets lost in turmoil of thoughts. Please select me, show me you have some amount of trust in what I’ve told you… Please don’t select me to go before the dragon. I wouldn’t know what to do. Do I kneel before him? Do I draw my weapon before his breath hits us? Do I set a distraction so you can deal the first blow? Somewhere in all these thoughts I hear my name called. As I lift my head I see Eric’s eyes focused on me, waiting for my response. Have you ever had the feeling of tremendous joy mixed with complete fear? I wanted to jump into Eric’s arms, but restrained myself for two reasons. I first felt bad for the other companions who have been with Eric longer than I have. Some of them must be thinking who the hell does this bitch think she is? The second was being able to see the dragon above us awaiting our arrival. I will have to remember to tell Eric to take his time in answering the question posed in my letter. I would definitely want him to be sure that whatever answer he gave was one he was certain of being true in his heart.

"Feels weird.", complained Yak, as they made their way back to their temporary Inn. "Kind of off balance. Two kegs on one side, and only one on the other.", he grumbled. He wasn’t really unhappy, but grumbling was in his nature. He was actually pretty pleased with things. He still had plenty of ale to drink, and he hadn’t died facing the dragon. Not a bad outcome all told. And speaking of telling...

"So tell me, what’s the deal?", Yak asked Eric. "Do we get the stone or not?"

"Well, it’s good news.", responded Eric, fairly pleased. "To begin with, we have to leave. It’s the law, and Thundercloud was pretty clear on it."

The adventurers looked shocked. Eric had never caved so completely before any foe.

"Hold on, it gets better. We don’t have to leave right away. If we take a day or so to drive the Hextorians out, we can take the time to do that. And he hinted that they may have the stone. What’s better yet, if we kill every last mother’s son of them, and raise their church to the ground, he’ll let each of us take one item from his hoard."

Since this seemed to be the best deal available, at least from Eric’s point of view, they had to accept it. And so they went back to their magical Inn, along with the captain of the guard and half a dozen of the other dragon-warriors.

The servants had cleaned up from the previous evening, and the place was once again ready to receive guests.

Eric and Clearsky, the captain of the dragon-guards, spent some time over an ale. Something about the previous evening’s happenings had made them friends, after a fashion. Or maybe it was just the ale itself.

"Your king isn’t nearly as evil as I thought he’d be.", Eric remarked.

"Yeah, he’s been changing. Some like it, some don’t. And you know how it is. When you see somebody change that much, there’s always a woman behind it."

Eric agreed, on principle, but asked for details. Clearsky was willing to share:

"Well, it seems that Thundercloud is a bit sweet on this other dragon that lives north of here. Frostflower. She’s silver, and doesn’t approve of some of the king’s old ways. Said she won’t have a mate who’s that evil. So he’s been trying to change. Isn’t that just like a woman, always trying to change their man? Never fails!"

There was a chorus of, "I’ll drink to that!" from the others present.

Everyone agreed that this seemed to be a universal truth, regardless of race or culture.

Meanwhile, a battle was being planned. A little quick checking told them that the Hextorians would be holding a service that very evening, about an hour after sunset, when full dark was on the land. Most of their followers would be present at that time.

The King had not wanted to kill his own people. But he hadn’t actually forbidden Eric and company from killing them, so they planned their assault to catch the greatest number of followers at the church. All would die, and no two stones would be left standing together.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The Traveler's Inn was quiet, it being a bit early for the locals to come in.

The meeting with the King had gone reasonably well, if banishment could be called "going well". Still, King Thundercloud had hinted that they might find the object of their search at the Temple of Hextor, which they had agreed to level.

The punishment for this "crime" was that they would be banished, but since that was already happening it was an empty threat.

Eric was uncomfortably comfortable with taking on tasks for the evil dragon King. Was he himself succumbing to the power of the evil that he guarded? A troubling thought.

Fiora appeared to be happier than he had seen her in many days. Ever since Eric had chosen her as the one he trusted, to meet the King. So that part of the day really did appear to be going well.

They had decided to wait until after sunset tonight before staging their assault, so as to catch the maximum number of followers. Taking the heart out of the Hextorian threat was the most effective way. Ruthless, but effective.

In a way, this bothered the priest of Fharlanghn even more. Eric wasn’t just taking the temple and priests, he was planning to kill the congregation. Not what the King had wanted, from what Frederick had gathered, though not specifically forbidden either. A technical twisting of the deal fit for a lawyer. Perhaps even Lawful Evil, as the mentality was known to those who could see attitudes directly. And why did Eric use magic to mask his own aura?

A few of the guards had stayed around, after escorting the group back to the Inn, and were certainly aware of the discussions, and the planned attack. Since they were loyal to the King, this wasn’t a worry. That this type of plan met with the approval of the evil half-dragons was no surprise. That it met with the approval of his friends seemed... unsettling.

Still, brooding would do no good. It was the best way to handle the situation. And if it would lead to the crystal shard...

He sat back, and watched his friends sharpen their blades, and check their armor for loose rivets and fittings. He felt relief that they would soon be traveling again, away from the subtle corruptions of this seemingly friendly realm.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"Now, explain this to me again?", asked Benito, as he examined the cards in front of him.

"It’s easy. You get two cards down, then the others come face up, one at a time. You bet as the cards come, or you drop out." Artemis was a fair teacher, and patient as well. He knew that the sooner Benito was comfortable with the card game the sooner he could take the poor cleric to the cleaners. Knowing the rules and strategies, and being a good poker player, were two different things.

Eric sat by and smiled grimly. While gambling wasn’t exactly encouraged by his church, neither was it forbidden. And, under the heading of "know thy enemy", he had come to know the ways of bluff and deception well. Besides, it was a way to pass the time. Sitting around seemed somehow wrong to him, under the circumstances.

His musings were disturbed by a knock on the door, followed by a half-orc sticking his head inside.

"Is the Inn open"?, he asked, hope in his voice.

"Didn’t you ever hear of knocking?", asked the Paladin irritably? Then, realizing that the man had indeed knocked, he waved him inside. "Sure we’re open.

"Weren’t we supposed to meet at the inn last night?", the man asked.

"This is the Inn.", Artemis stated as he recognized Pale-Eye, the half-orc he had met when they first came to town. "Where were you?"

"At the Inn. The other Inn.", came the reply in mock severity. "Say, how long has this one been here?"

"Oh, a few hours. Or a few minutes. Or... Hey, Fred, how long has this Inn been here?"

"Since last night. And it’ll be gone after tonight."

Pale-eye smiled, and apparently decided to take advantage of the facilities while they lasted.

A few others drifted in over time, but the attendance remained sparse. Which was fine with Eric. He was tired of hearing "Praise Farlang" all night long.

"So, what brings you folks here?", Pale-Eye asked amiably, sipping his ale.

"Actually, we’re leaving soon. The King ordered us to leave, even though we didn’t do anything."

Pale-eye looked around, and saw that nobody was making the slightest move towards leaving. And the guards didn’t seem to be hurrying them along. He smelled a rat.

"So, you need a guide? I know the area pretty well. I can even get you through the Veil."

"Do you know where the Church of Hextor is?", asked Jonathon. "We’d like to pay our respects on our way out."

Pale-Eye nodded, noting the edge in the Bard’s normally melodious voice. "When would you like to go?", he asked innocently.

"Oh, around mass time, I suppose.", Eric said.

Now Pale-eye was sure that there was trouble brewing. Not that he objected. In fact, he hadn’t done any real hell-raising for a while. "Sure, I’ll get you there. Need any help?"

"With what?", asked in all innocence.

"With whatever you’re going to do."

"We’re not doing anything tonight. At the temple of Hextor. And you should probably stay clear while we’re not doing it.", came the reply.

"Sure thing", Pale-eye said, knowingly. "Anything else you’re not doing, that I should stay clear of.?"

"Well", interjected Artemis. "We’re not doing anything tomorrow, at about noon, either."

"We’re not?", asked Eric, momentarily confused.

"As far as I know, we really aren’t doing anything tomorrow at noon.", laughed the half-orc. He didn’t put one over on Eric all that often, but it was fun when he did.

Pale-Eye looked at Fiora, as she leaned against the bar watching the card game. "You know, if I wasn’t married...", he began.

"You’d still be a half-orc.", Katan finished for him.

"Hey, so I ain't as pretty as some. There’s more to the measure of a man than his face.", he declared solidly. Turning back to the lady, he began again. "Some people never look past the face. I bet you do."

Fiora was about to reply that she had often looked past the face, but it usually involved carving it off. But before she could speak, Artemis had stepped between them, facing the man.

"She’s spoken for!", he said firmly.

Pale-eye needed no further warning. "I didn’t know it was like that.", he said, by way of an apology.

"Well it is.", said Artemis. He liked Fiora as well, even if she only had eyes for Eric. And if Eric wouldn’t step to the lady’s defense, it was his loss.

"Yeah, well, I’m married anyway.", Pale-eye said. "Never planned on it, just happened. One day I’m carefree and single, the next she’s dragging me off to the alter. Literally."

There was some laughter at this, but it was all in good fun.

Eric grew concerned, however, that the half-orc knew of their plans. He wasn’t exactly reliable. "Want to sit in for a hand?", he asked, indicating the card game.

Pale-Eye looked at the table, noting the piles of gold being wagered. He indicated that the game was too rich for him. All he had was some small, uncut gems, perhaps 3 gold value all together.

"Tell you what.", offered Eric. "You put up one stone, each of us will put up 100 gold, and high card takes the lot. Is that fair?"

The half-orc wasn’t the brightest man around, but he wasn’t an idiot.

He dropped a larger than average piece of Tiger-Eye on the table, and the cards were cut.

His eyes lit up when he turned up the Knave, and he took the pot. 300 gold was more than he had earned in his life.

"Double or nothing?", offered Eric, not at all perturbed at his loss.

Pale-Eye agreed, and the cards were again shuffled and cut. This time he turned up the 7, and looked sad. Yet his still turned out to be the high card. Odd, though, that the Paladin claimed to have lost, having pulled a "1".

Eric was now satisfied that they had bought the man’s silence.

Pale eye filled his pouch with coins, then stuffed more into his shirt. Having reached his limit, he took a double handful and dropped them into the bucket by the door, shouting, "Praise Fharlanghn!". Then, seeing the look on Eric’s face, and the holy symbol on his chest, repeated the gesture, this time shouting "Praise Cuthbert!", with just as much enthusiasm.

"You tell me what you need me to do tonight, and consider it done!", the half-orc declared.

Fiora wanted to suggest a bath, but held her tongue.

"Just get us to the church, and then stand clear. Half a mile away should do.", he was assured.

Suddenly, Pale-eye looked nervous. "Um, can I go see my wife before than? I have to, um, keep her busy for a while."

Eric looked long and hard at his temporary hireling. "Is she a member of the church?"

Pale-eye nodded sadly. "That’s the altar she dragged me to."

Frederick smiled. "Have the two of you considered converting?", he asked. "Travel could be a very good thing for the both of you, if you know what I mean."

"Or consider the glories of Pelor", added Benito. "He’s the god of the sun, and he’s there for you, every day!"

"Cuthbert is the god of killing Hextorians at the temple tonight", offered Eric. "And he’s always looking for converts." As he spoke, he handed the man a holy symbol. "Pray to him for guidance, and he’ll see you both safe."

Benito, not to be outdone, offered a small holy symbol as well.

Pale-eye nodded, gathered the holy symbols, and said, "I’ll place these around the house. And tomorrow, we’ll travel to one of the temples. "

And with that, he left, leaving a slight scattering of coins in his wake.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The afternoon faded slowly into the evening, and as the sun set, the warriors gathered themselves.

One of the guards agreed to escort them to the temple of Hextor, to "pay their respects". And so they went.

As they approached the low stone building, they made plans. Eric wanted to address the congregation. Frederick would accompany him, as would Katan. The rest would wait outside. The signal was agreed upon, and the plan was set into motion.

Eric dismounted, and strode towards the temple. It was small, by his standards, but probably the largest single structure in this land, outside of the fortified palace of the King.

The front door stood open to the evening air, and none opposed them. Eric could feel the evil of the place, noting that the ground itself was unholy. Oddly, the greatest evil he sensed was not coming from the priest, or the alter he stood by. They were strongly evil, of course, but something darker hid in the crowd of worshippers, to the off to one side.

The priest broke off his sermon when they entered. The room drew a collective breath, and those nearest the holy knight drew back a few paces.

"Welcome, Eric Darkblood", stated the priest, intentionally leaving his titles unsaid. "This is an unexpected pleasure."

Eric hardly had to try to see that the man was lying. His presence was neither unexpected, nor a pleasure, and everyone there knew it. He had slain the temple’s champion the previous evening, so his intentions were also known. Still he stalled, trying to discern the source of the darker evil he sensed.

"Well, I just came to pay my respects, and see if I might run into anyone I knew.", he replied, slowly taking off his helmet.

There was a drawn, tense silence, as the men glared at each other. Eric felt the evil presence move, and in a moment the answer to his concerns became visible.

"So good to see you again.", came the dry voice. The face had become leathery since they had last met, but that was to be expected. Dead flesh either dried and mummified, or rotted away, and Bartholomew the Lich had been dead for six months.

"You owe me. You took my throne, and placed a dragon on it. You took my crystal as well. I could have pursued you, but once I knew where you were going it was far easier to simply come here and wait for you. I knew that you would come and deliver it to me."

"You wanted me to come and kill you again?", asked the Paladin.

"No, but the opportunity to restore the balance is here, and the symmetry is delightful. If you had slain the dragon-king, I would have taken his throne, recovering what you had deprived me of. poetic justice, so to speak."

Eric nodded, observing movement in the shadows around the perimeter of the darkened room.

"Do you mind a little light?", Eric asked, indicating a sun-rod he held. "I like to see exactly who I’m talking to."

The lich nodded assent, and Eric tapped the rod against his armor, driving it to ignite.

Outside, Benito saw the light, and began to prepare his spells.

Eric, almost casually, tossed the sun rod over his shoulder, and out the door.

His signal had been anticipated, however. Suddenly among the crowd, spectral forms appeared, rising straight from the ground and attacking... the congregation? People fell as their life was drained away, and new undead rose in their places. The foe had just doubled their numbers.

At the same moment, the lich activate his Haste, and then cast again. Streams of light sprang from his hand, washing over the room. People screamed and fell, insane, poisoned, blinded and/or dead.

Eric felt the power of the spell wash over him attempting to drain his health, yet he resisted.

Katan also felt the power, but his discipline rendered him immune to the poisonous effects.

Frederick was bathed in flames, which washed harmlessly off of him, due to the blessings of his deity.

Just outside the door, where Artemis and Benito had been advancing, they suddenly found themselves enveloped in the spell. Artemis resisted easily, but Benito’s strength failed him, Artemis found himself standing by a statue of stone that used to be his friend.

Now chaos ensued. The guards hurled stones at the heroes inside, each detonating with a deafening roar as it struck. Frederick felt a sharp pain in his ears as one struck the wall directly by his head. Then for him, the room went silent.

More undead swarmed from the floors and walls, attacking the heroes.

Eric struck back, slicing his blade expertly through the misty forms, feeling it bite on some, and wash through others harmlessly.

Katan also struck, in his own way. Stepping away from his undead foes, he opened his mouth and released the fire within. His birthright served him well, as flames leapt out and bathed the undead in their searing heat. Some fell, some didn’t, but many were injured.

Some of the restless spirits fell before the attacks, some didn’t. But more came, thirsting for the life that pulsed inside them. Some fed on that life, draining life, strength, and vitality with their touch. Others found the magics that encompassed the heroes to be too great a barrier.

Outside, Brundle saw that there plan was in disarray, with Benito out of the battle. Quickly he incanted the mystic words, a phrase that began with "I Wish..."

Suddenly, Benito was warm and breathing once more, though staggered by the shock of his double transformation. Quickly he recovered, and asked his deity to shake the earth, so that no two stones of the evil temple would be left standing together.

And it came to pass. Walls collapsed in on themselves, and the great stone roof cracked and fell. The earth itself was torn with the force of the spell, leaving great fissures throughout the area.

Some who fell inside never knew it, and some were lost in insanity, and didn’t care. One did, however. The lich found himself standing on a stone that was falling, dropping into the chamber below. It saved him from the falling roof, but that was little consolation. He had been dead for a scant six months, and wasn’t at all ready to be buried yet.

The other undead, having no physical bodies, cared not for stone roofs or broken ground. They thirsted for life, and proceeded to try once more to drink of it.

Again, Eric felt his vitality fade at the chill touch of his foes, and again he swept them back with his blade, even as he heard Benito incant again, asking that the fires of the sun fall on this unholy place. And again, his prayers were answered.

Katan felt the flames wrap around him, and enjoyed their warmth.

Frederick also accepted the flames of the heavens without harm, having immunized himself against such things that morning.

Of the heroes, Eric alone was vulnerable to this magic, and even he was barely affected, due to the protective magics he wore.

And still the undead came, feeding on the dying among the ruins, and adding to their numbers as they went.

The lich rose from the crevasse that had taken him, hovering a few feet above the floor, and cast again. A tiny bead of fierce red sprang from his hand, and landed near the combatants. And rested there, inactive.

Fiora hurled her magic daggers at the misty forms she saw, and Artemis struck them down unerringly, his magic blade reaching into the other realm to bite at their very core.

The waves of undead were falling like rows of grain before the scythe. With no surviving church goers to feed upon, they couldn’t replenish their numbers, and the attacks of the heroes were relentless.

Benito saw the lich as he was bathed in the streams of acid that were Brundle’s trademark, but saw that they were having little effect. He knew the power of the lich, and prayed for a miracle.

Bartholomew recognized the power at once, and attempted to spring free before the trap was closed. Too late, he found himself standing in a small box of magical force.

Recognizing the Force Cage for what it was, he also realized that he was safe, for the moment. just as the barrier protected his enemies from his spells, so it protected him from them. He began to sort through his spell components, preparing his escape.

As the last of the undead minions fell, Eric saw his enemy standing amid the rubble, and charged.

"I’m really starting to hate these things!", he declared, as he recovered from the impact. He had run straight into the magical barrier, as he had so often before. Quickly he probed at the wall, trying to find a way around it.

Artemis joined him in this, and Katan attempted to leap over the wall, to no avail.

Inside, the lich considered his options. His carefully planned ambush had gone to hell when the roof fell, and his minions were no more.

He could blast his way out of this enclosure, and deal death directly to his enemies. But they were formidable, and had defeated him once before. Some of them might fall, but in the end they would win the day.

Waving his hand, flaming letters appeared before him. "I’ll be back!", they warned. And with a word, he vanished, transported to safety.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Slowly, the heroes sifted through the ruins of the Hextorian church. The occasional groan from under the rubble was dealt with quickly. A quick sword thrust, and their suffering ended.

Jonathon was the first to find the lower chamber, apparently the private sanctum of the High priest. A Wine rack stood against one wall, a few bottles miraculously intact. 6 smaller vials stood on a nearby table, though the dust patterns made it clear that many more had once stood here.

Eric joined Jonathon in his search, taking a few moments to tear down the large holy symbol of the evil deity that had survived the devastation.

Fiora and Benito joined in as well, as the rest of the party kept their eyes open for trouble. Several of them had noticed that the lich had not simply teleported away from the mystical imprisonment. He had made a gesture, as if scattering dust on himself, before fading away. Experience said that he might well be nearby, waiting for an opportunity to strike from his magical invisibility.

Potion bottles were passed to Katan, who quickly identified them as various poisons and sleeping potions.

Benito checked the wine bottles, found them to contain red wine, and packed them away.

Fiora discovered a hidden drawer, with a small beg of gemstones, apparently the High priest's emergency getaway money.

After they emerged they saw the half-dragon, Clearsky, standing nearby.

"Well, you seem to have done a great deal of damage.", he commented dryly. "It is my duty now, as Captain of the Guard, to arrest you and bring you before King Thundercloud. Will you come quietly?"

"Arrest us for what?", asked Eric, more on principle than anything else. "They attacked us almost as soon as we entered."

"I know what happened, and what you planned. I was there, remember? Still, I have my orders. Will you come with me please?" The dragon guard was extremely polite, with no hint of threat in his words, and no weapon in his hand.

The adventurers sheathed their weapons, and accompanied the guard captain as he lead them off into the darkness.

"Have you noticed", Jonathon whispered to Eric, "This isn't the way we came."

Eric nodded, "Keep an eye open for an ambush. This feels wrong."

Still, their way lead almost due east, parallel to the ridge line, and across the breadth of the pass.

"Take care through here.", Clearsky warned. "The footing is treacherous, and we are near the Veil as well."

Sure enough, the wall of magical mist that sealed the Elven kingdoms from the outside world was visible to those who had eyes in the darkness, a scant 10 yards away.

"This area has claimed more than one life, you know.", Clearsky advised, apparently rambling. "For example, a smuggler lost his life here just two moons ago, up ahead. He had brought in a pack horse loaded with iron work from the Dwarves to the north west, and failed to pay his tribute to the King. He was on his way back when Thundercloud spotted him. The poor man's horse panicked, of course, and ran off. The merchant had had the reins looped around his wrist, so he was dragged to his death. The horse ran blindly into the crevasse up ahead."

"Isn't that kind of a harsh penalty for smuggling?", asked Frederick.

"Well, yes and no. Thundercloud intended to frighten the horse, to deprive the man of any profits from his crime. The man being dragged was an accident. He landed down there, and there he remains."

Clearsky had stopped, and was simply standing, as if waiting for something.

Eric looked around, suspiciously, looking for the ambush that he was sure was coming. Clearsky wasn't evil by nature, but treachery could disguise itself well enough. Still, nothing.

"Why are we waiting here?", Corticek finally asked, politely.

"The King instructed me to bring you here, and allow you to retrieve an item from the smuggler's pack. He said it was something you had been seeking."

Nodding with understanding, Corticek called upon his wild nature, and shifted form to that of an Eagle. Swiftly, he circled down into the crevasse, settling on the decaying remains of the horse.

It's pack had shifted when the horse fell, and would certainly have torn itself apart if it hadn't been empty. All that was there was a moderate sized bag, about the size of a small flour sack.

Poking his beak inside the weathered cloth, he saw a pile of raw gemstones, probably several hundred peices of amethyst and tiger's-eye. And one clear stone, about the size of a human thumb, setting on top.

Quickly, he drew the bag closed, and took wing, his prize securely in his talons. He rose swiftly, circled for a moment, then dropped the bag into the waiting hands of Eric, before settling on the pommel of his horse's saddle.

Eric opened the bag and withdrew the prize they had come for, the piece of the World Crystal. Then, after pulling the bag closed, he tossed it back into the crevasse.

Corticek was shocked, and dove after it, returning with it a few moments later. This time, he transformed back to human form sputtering protests. "Why did you do that?", he asked. "This is valuable!"

Eric looked at the Druid disapprovingly. "I'm not going to say that you can't keep it, but I won't. We don't loot graves. If we slay an enemy in battle, his possessions are forfeit, but we don't just go looting every body we find. You should put that back. It isn't yours."

Corticek looked forlorn, and turned towards the crevasse, sack in hand. A few moments later it sailed down to rest with its former owner. The bulk of its contents, however, had been transferred to Corticek's pouch, quietly. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

Clearsky had an unreadable expression on his face as he lead them on to face the judgment of the King.

Soon they were again traveling on the familiar, winding path towards the castle, thoughts of ambush having retreated for the moment.

If the dark stone fortress was imposing by the morning light, it was a looming monster by moonlight, as if the mountain itself were a predator, and this was it's mouth.

Again, they were escorted inside to the courtyard. Attendants took charge of their horses, and they were lead up the stairs that only Eric and Fiora had trod before.

The passage lead back into the mountain, the block walls giving way to a sinuously twisting natural passage. The arching ceiling showed some scrape marks, signs that Thundercloud had come this way, and had probably enlarged the tunnel as he went.

It sloped gently down, with side passages branching off at various points. The way was smooth, and the footing sure. Ahead, there was light in the darkness.

The passage opened out to a broad chamber with a floor of sand. In the center stood a broad, low, pile of coins and gemstones. Beside this stood Thundercloud.

"You may leave us", he commanded the guards. "These pose no threat to me."

As soon as the guards were out of earshot, Thundercloud nodded to the heroes. "I am told that you kept our bargain, and so i keep my part as well. Each of you may select any one item you choose." He gestured towards the hoard, invitingly.

Brundle noticed a small collection of items off to one side, obviously items of value, yet not the sort of thing a dragon would choose to sleep upon.

Robes, armor, weapons, statuary, and jewelry stood there, each an object of the craftsman's art. To Brundle's enhanced vision, however, they showed more. Circling around each of them were the lines of creation, the fabric of the universe, showing the magic that was woven into them.

Although he would have loved to sit and study each item, he had no time to indulge that obsession. He quickly pointed to each item and told his friends what he saw, what he could discern of their magical strengths and natures.

"You may choose from those, if you like", he indicated. "You might also find other things to your liking amidst the gems of my bed."

Katan looked at the amassed fortune, and felt his draconic half lusting after such a hoard. His choice was a simple one: "I choose to take nothing.", he advised. "My way is a simple one, and I have no need for material wealth."

Brundle was not so nobly inclined, however. Neither, on the other hand, was he all that practical. "I'll take this.", he declared, pointing to a great sword that was nearly twice as tall as he was. It was a massive weapon of dark adamantine, with a cross guard formed like a set of teeth, and a cluster of rubies in the pommel.

Artemis was examining a heavy crossbow, and weighing it in his hand, as his mind weighed the alternate choice of a suit of armor.

"Beware of that armor.", Eric advised. "The helm reeks of evil."

Artemis looked at the crossbow, and then at the armor. Slowly he set down the bow. "Well, then I'll take the armor. The helmet can be destroyed later. That way it can't do any more harm."

Corticek found a smooth staff of twisted wood with a moonstone set in the head.

Jonathon selected a silver chain necklace with a single, immense, black pearl hanging from it.

Frederick selected a book. To the surprise of many, so did Eric.

Benito doffed his own magic cloak to try on one of shimmering silver, then nodded his approval.

Fiora found 6 matched daggers in a broad throwing sheath and harness.

When all had finished making their selections, the great blue dragon nodded. "It is done. May these things serve you well. "

Eric noticed that the guards had returned, standing silently at the edge of the cavern.

"And now", continued Thundercloud, "As for your crimes. You have broken my laws, bringing your private grudges here, and carrying them out."

"If I may", Eric interrupted politely (It is seldom a good idea to *rudely* interrupt a dragon.) "I carried out no grudge. They attacked before I ever drew a weapon. They were the ones who broke your law."

Clearsky spoke up at this point. 'I was present, your majesty. I didn't see what transpired within the church, but I did see a magical light come from within and strike at several of these, before any outside drew a weapon, or began a spell."

The king nodded. "Still, you are bound by my earlier ruling. As you are not choosing to settle and live here, I must pronounce your banishment. You are hereby ordered to leave my lands, not to return upon pain of death. This banishment shall be in force for not less than... one full moon!"

Artemis smiled and nodded, as did Eric. The form of the law had been honored, if not the substance. "How soon do we have to leave?", Artemis asked.

"3 days.", advised the king with mock severity, noting that they had been here just barely more than 2.

"Fair enough." agreed Artemis. he then drew his flask from his pack. "Ale?", he offered?

"Sounds like a good idea.", agreed the great dragon. With a few words, the immense form dwindled and took on human form.

And they drank to good fortune.

Riding north out of the Elven lands Erik responds with a letter to Fiora.   Fiora,  I sit here this night thinking of the words you gave to me the time we stayed together in the magical shelter. You must understand that while my trusted companion and horse was a great loss to me, I also was aware that all things come with a price. This time my companion was not, and could not ever be recovered. He was and shall forever be lost to me. You are indeed part of the reason I have secluded myself from the others these many nights, but not in a way that you might expect. While I have not known you the length of time that I have traveled with the others of our troupe, I do feel that I have gotten to know you better than most, come to trust you to some degree at least as much as I would trust in Artemis, the most noble, yet sometimes misguided of our companions. The hatred that built in him upon the death of his family in the frozen lands of Hardur may be a pain he will never recover from.  I seclude myself for the safety of us all, for the safety of the world in which we now struggle to save. The weapons I carry with me, each as potent as the army of any nation, are not to be underestimated. These artifacts are what nations are built and destroyed for, what countless thousands have died for. Each of them is a weapon, not a weapon as simple as a sword, but a weapon as cunning as the mind of any Lord of the Nine. You spoke of Rahu's tortures upon your soul when you were still young, how might you feel upon finding out one you care for once acted in such a similar manner? It is true that while no man could hope to achieve the mind for evil that a demon is born with, it hardly takes a child born of the abyss to torture, burn and murder innocents. I hope you will forgive me for what I am to tell you. I do not know that St. Cuthbert himself has done so, as my calling to the noble church may in fact be my punishment. Before the now overthrown Cardinal Pirraxe abducted me into the church I was a guard in the employ of the city Ender. Many wars we fought against the otherworldly king of Burgose, the kingdom east of my home. The death did not stop when the wars did though as we were well versed in the art of raping, torturing and killing the residents of their land. My first experience was as a scout for the main force in an attack on the keep outside the village of Little Rise. A location your companions are familiar with, but the history of which they are not. After the victory in battle the main army moved forward into the enemy lands, but our company stayed behind. The claim was that we would secure the location, but in truth it was the first time I burned a man alive, a man that had done nothing but lived in the wrong place. His family died with him, blockaded in their home as I torched the roof and watched them burn. I could hear the cries of the children, the screams of his wife for St. Cuthbert to forgive them, shelter them, save them. Looking back, the part that troubles me most is knowing that I enjoyed it. After many months of the same, we returned to Ender, the war having ended, land was gained; we had been victorious this time. With the war on hold I was assigned as a tax collector of the church; a protected ruffian with a penchant for gold was the more truthful term. When the populace couldn’t pay in coin, they paid with the loss of hands, ears, and their tongue. If you could not feed the church, you could not feed yourself. If you could not hear the needs of the church, there was no need for you to hear at all. If you refused Cuthbert so openly, then never again shall your blasphemous tongue speak. This is what we told ourselves and the people that watched us maim and mutilate their neighbors, their families. After one such event Cardinal Pirraxe had personally witnessed the cruelty and demanded I be brought to the church for counseling. This act folded me into the clergy of Cuthbert, personally taught by Pirraxe himself, yet I was a stubborn student, often unbeknownst to me asking the true priests for guidance. My eyes were opened to the true revelations of what was in store for me. In my sleep I had a dream of speaking to a man, a glorious man in the finest robes of the church. He spoke of the one chance I had to right the many wrongs I had done, guided me to the order of paladins in which I know serve. Pirraxe was not happy with my new found loyalty to the true Cuthbert, it seems, and so I was assigned to this quest in which we now serve together. Now I know, I was assigned in hopes that I might be killed and taken out of the way. With the horror of my past, I cannot imagine one that has been through what you have suffered might have interest in me. After this letter, I will soon know how prophetic my suspicions might have been. Having led you far from the point at hand I now return to it; my seclusion. Upon taking Cuthbert’s vow I swore to do my best to right the evils of the world, to protect the people as best I could. These artifacts do not represent the suffering of the people in a symbolic way. These devices are the suffering of the people. I can only imagine the horror that would fall upon the land if one of power were to obtain them. I must shelter you, my companions, from the tragedy that might befall the bearer of these burdens and so I seclude myself when we are most vulnerable. I do not know the call that such evil may have on those around it. Protected by Cuthbert I alone seem most capable of bearing them until they may be destroyed. You have seen what simple magic, as was found in the now lost sword of Athos was capable of; I cannot pretend these weapons are not magnitudes more dangerous in their ability to corrupt and call others to their service. You spoke of your lack of bravery in the face of overwhelming odds… did you not put your life on the line to escape Rahu the Torturer? Did you not face down your own people as well as demons in order to win your freedom from them? Do you not now travel into the most dangerous of situations simply for the betterment of all? I do not think you lack in courage, I think you simply fail to recognize it. It is easy to see what we most strive for in others, it is another thing to accept it in ourselves. You ask what things I might have foresworn of a normal life when taking an allegiance to the church, love is not one of them, but it is not easily given. Do you understand the depth to which you would immerse yourself into the ways of St. Cuthbert if something were to become of us? You must know that I could not dedicate myself to one that could not accept the teachings and morals of the church. St. Cuthbert is retribution, he is revenge, justice and devotion, and he does not simply represent them. This is the life I have accepted, is it one that you could potentially accept? Only you might answer that. I had told you upon reading your letter I would respond after we met the dragon, I said this because I truly thought I would never live to have to write this. With the appearance of Bartholomew I was again reminded by the constant level of danger we are now in. Now that I have, I fear that being open with my past, my thoughts, and giving insight into my soul might bring with it mortal danger for you. As I have dedicated myself to the safety of these crystals, the church of light and to Cuthbert himself, I also shall now devote myself to yours and my companion’s protection, no matter what cost of mortality this might bring with it. In closing I feel I have one last statement to make, one last question to ask. You must be aware that I will petition to Cuthbert for a new companion and mount soon to aid in my battles, another being with which I shall again share the bond. Could you accept that another would be closer to my soul than you might ever be able to achieve? Erik Darkblood, Highest amongst the Knights of the Chalice, Knight of the Seventh Star, Paladin of St. Cuthbert.