Erastus 27 (Late Afternoon, Riddleport)

Koya seemed excited by the cache of maps that I brought back from my excursions. I found her early in the afternoon packing up some items in her wagon (just like her mother, she is showing few signs of slowing down at her age). She invited me inside and I unrolled them on top of some crates. I had picked up several Varisia maps, from Sandpoint up through the Nolands, and a smaller set showing parts of the Linnorm Kingdoms (in addition to what I had found on my own, Kelda and I had gone shopping together in Riddleport earlier this morning, looking for anything that covered our route up to Kalsgard). There were three or four dozen in all.

“What’s all this?” she asked.

“I think we’re going to need some mementos from this trip, don’t you? And what better way to start than with some maps of where we’ve been, and where we’re going? Pick out what you like from these; I’ll keep the rest.”

She looked up at me, astonished. “You’d give these to me?”

“It’s much less than you’ve done for me over the years.” Which was an understatement. Ameiko had a talent for finding healing potions, but she couldn’t mend clothes. Koya could do both.

As she started leafing through them I added, “There’s a mixture in there of practical, artistic, and fanciful. Some are city maps, some regional, others are wider. And we’ll get more along the way, of course.”

My next stop was Sandru, who I found tending to the horses not too far from Koya’s wagon. “I was thinking that we need a little celebration tonight. Some special food and drink to see us off on our trip.”

“A fine idea!” he beamed, “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, that’s why I wanted to see you: I need a little help. The food I can manage. Do you think you can help me pick out some spirits?”

“Of course! I would be delighted!”

Here’s a tip: if you ever find yourself with too much money, teaming up with Sandru to buy alcohol for special occasions is one way to solve the problem super-gods-be-damned-fast. It sure was fun, though. And we got personalized service everywhere we went.

Erastus 28 (Velashu River below the Celphiac Mountains, Evening)

We broke out our celebration last night after making camp a few miles out of Riddleport. Though it certainly wasn’t on par with the dinner Ameiko threw back when this all began (I had less to work with after all) it was still the surprise I was hoping it would be. I admit that I splurged a little too much, but honestly, how often do you get to try things like a 40-year-old brandy or a cheese made from buffalo’s milk?

It will take us roughly two weeks to reach Kalsgard and the first half of that will be through the wilderness and the Nolands. The experience with the trolls over a month ago, and I guess with Zaiobe more recently, is why I pursued the spell Thadeus had grilled me about. I admit that I don’t like it, but what are my alternatives? I am just not any good outdoors otherwise. I can’t get close enough, fast enough, and many of the effects I can manifest? You can just walk around them. Easily. It is one thing to be in a city, but another to be in the open plains of the Uplands. But then again, I never thought that this is where I would end up.

And as for the Nolands, they have a nasty reputation that is well deserved. Rulers in the Lands of the Linnorm Kings have used it as a dumping ground for centuries, sending the worst of their worst into exile there. Given that the natives, and I use that term loosely, are known (or at least suspected) to have such pleasant hobbies as cannibalism, it makes for a proving ground for aspiring warlords. I won’t endanger myself or my friends. Sometimes ideals have to give way to reality.

On a more pleasant note, I’ve been learning some Skald, courtesy of books (of course) and some time in the wagon Kelda is driving. I was not the only one with this idea, either: this morning I overheard Sparna talking to her about the very same topic. So, it seems Kelda has quickly become one of the more popular members of our group.

This clearly hasn’t sat well with everyone, though, as one of us has taken to messing with her food. Hopefully, whatever the hell that is about, it will end soon. Or at least not spiral out of control.

Erastus 30 (Noon, Velashu Uplands)

Last night Ivan was talking about magic items and how they could be created while we were traveling. His idea was quite ingenious. The process, as I understand it, takes several full days of work depending on the item, which is, of course, hard to do while traveling. He suggested that a shortcut would be to buy an item (he said they are typically rings) that allows you to go with minimal sleep and rest, thus making it possible to work most of the night. Of course, the catch is that you must first find and pay for such a thing, but it’s an interesting idea and I’m going to pursue it.

Arodus 2 (Evening, The Nolands)

We’ve crossed into the Nolands. The landscape and the wildlife are radically different north of the river (which I guess should not be surprising) and we’ve even seen a few bears. So far, though, we’ve been left alone and there’s not even been any sign of Nolander tribes. Our only company has been flocks of birds probably scavenging for scraps of food. Nihali says they are mostly ravens and she is “not impressed” (that is an actual quote).

Someone continues to mess with Kelda’s meals. I am beginning to feel a spiritual bond with Sparna and Olmas.

Arodus 3 (Evening, Jol)

Our first encounter on this leg of our journey was not what I was expecting. When Nihali landed on my shoulder this morning, she was pretty agitated. I asked her what’s wrong and she said, “Just a raven. But I’ve never seen one that big before.”

When Nihali is concerned, I am concerned. “How big is it?” I asked.

“It’s right there. You can see for yourself.”

And I looked up and there it was. A raven. A huge raven, about the size of a small dog. Just hanging up in the sky, lazily following us much like the flock that had been with us since we crossed the river. It was still with us when we stopped for lunch, and I discreetly started spreading the word.

Unsurprisingly, a couple of the others had seen it, too, but it hadn’t reached the level of “alarming”. But they aren’t Nihali. This is what she does.

Then Ivan pointed out something interesting. “I saw a flash of red. Maybe red feathers on its wings.”

Ravens with red feathers? Etayne and I talked it over. It’s not unheard of, but the peculiarities were starting to mount. So I went to see Koya for her opinion. I mean, this is precisely why Varisian caravans have fortune-tellers, right?

At first, I got the Varisian answer: blood feather ravens are an omen. Specifically, an evil omen (are there any omens that aren’t?), and it’s bad luck to have one following the caravan. And so on. But I pressed her on it because I wanted something more concrete than spookism. “What should we do about it?”

Koya pulled out her cards and I let her work. After a few minutes, she said, “The cards are hard to read. We should continue our journey, but there is evil stalking us.”

Right. That’s what I needed to know. We were probably being spied on, and that would not do. I went to the others and, speaking in Elvish, suggested that we get rid of it. Permanently. It was flying too high up for weapons, but I could send an air elemental after it. But when I went to find it in preparation for the spell, it was gone. I told the others, “I can be better prepared for it tomorrow, anyway. I can send several air elementals at it.”

We reached Jol late in the afternoon. Mom actually knew something about Jol, as it was built on top of the ruins of an old Thassilonian city called Torandey. That fact officially makes it her business, and one of the bits of trivia she shared with me is that new construction (and reconstruction) occasionally breaks through into some previously-unknown vault down below, unleashing whatever random magic or horror lay dormant inside. Must be fun to be in the construction business there.

It’s also densely packed. The southern expanse of Southmoor, in particular, can be quite dangerous and Jol’s walls are arguably the main reason why the city has a reputation for being the safest (human) settlement in the region. But rather than expand its borders, it has stubbornly increased its density. It is the most tightly packed city I have ever seen, and I have seen a lot of cities. And, it stinks. I mean it literally smells bad. Fortunately, we aren’t staying inside the city walls.

Arodus 5 (Evening, Grungir Forest)

For two days we didn’t see the raven with the red feather, and when we emerged from the northern edge of the Grungir Forest to make camp it was there, waiting for us. It flew off as soon as we spotted it, far too quickly for me to take action. This thing is pissing me off.

The forest itself was pleasant enough, but only because we knew to stay on the road, or if straying from it to at least keep it in sight. Grungir is the domain of the fey. This far to the east there is some human encroachment and it is well-traveled, but it’s still best not to tempt the descendants of the First World. When asked what we might find here, Kelda replied, “Fey. Gnomes. Wild animals. A linnorm if you’re unlucky.” And I think that about sums that up.

Tomorrow morning we’ll take a side trip across the river into Losthome, a brief visit to trade, find updated maps and get some information about the way ahead, but we’ll return to the road by early afternoon.

Oh, and I suspect that Etayne is our prankster. I don’t know what she has against Kelda, but as long as it’s just stupid tricks? I am staying out of it. For one, Kelda can take care of herself. For two, Kelda would probably just get pissed off if someone intervened on her behalf, anyway. It sure does bring back some shitty memories, though.

Arodus 7 (Noon, Thundering River, Eldentre)

We haven’t seen the raven since the forest. If it holds to its previous pattern, it should appear tonight or sometime tomorrow.

OK. I was growing really concerned and starting to fret over this, so I just now went to ask Koya for advice. “What is it you want to do if you see it again?” she asked.

“I’m going to summon air elementals and send them after it. To attack it, and kill it if they have to. It’s spying on us, I’m sure of it.”

She thought for a moment and then pulled out some cards of a design I had not seen before. “I have something I can try…if you are willing?” I said yes, and she cast a lengthy spell I did not recognize and then drew some cards from the deck.

I can feel the effects, and they are strange, almost as though a blessing of Desna is on me.

She says this will only last for a few days, or until I have my chance to go after the bird, whichever comes first.

Arodus 7 (Night, The Skalsbridge)

We were attacked tonight and thus my suspicions have been confirmed: the raven had been spying on us. I wish now I had taken action when Nihali had first come to me, but logically I get that there was no way to have known at the time. I don’t want to be the kind of person who attacks someone or something on just suspicion alone, although taking this stance means we must suffer such affronts as being ambushed while we sleep.

I am pretty sure no one took me seriously when I called out, “I’ll soften them up!” (I mean, really, when had I ever softened anything up? So I guess I don’t blame them.) Ivan was right next to me fiddling with the necklace he picked up in Brinewall and said, “That’s what I’m going to do,” as he pulled off one of the orbs and flung it, hard, into the moonless night. A tremendous burst of fire lit up the advancing hoard, and several of the raiders dropped in a chorus of screams.

And then my spell hit. I won’t mince words here: it was pretty horrible. I didn’t see the torrent of stones and dirt, but I heard a sound worse than any hailstorm, a roar of sickening, dull thuds against earth, armor, and flesh, followed by more screams. It lasted only seconds. I reminded myself, They are here to kill you. Because it helps to keep perspective when people are dying by your hand.

At the edge of our camp light, the surviving attackers met us and were savaged. More spells, more fire, and flashes of steel. At one point in that fight two of our foe, which I could now see to be Ulfen raiders, descended on Kelda to outflank our defensive line, but Radella took one of them down and I used a spell to grease the other’s weapon, buying Kelda some time to reposition and seize the advantage. After that, we went on the offensive and the stragglers dropped like flies.

When the battle was over, there were forty dead. Gods, forty of them! Forty! Kelda remarked, “It’s unusual for Ulfen warriors to attack in mass just randomly on the road.”

Yeah. About that. There was obviously nothing random about this. Kelda said she spotted the raven on the Skalsbridge, just barely making it out in the dim light from our camp. It flew off as soon as it knew it had been spotted (Damnit! Again!), or perhaps just as the longboat was coming ashore. Fortunately, Kelda was able to alert Qatana, who woke us all in time. But only barely. We had maybe a minute to get ready, if that. It was that close.

Kelda examined the bodies, pulling a gold armband off of one. Engraved on it was a stylized lion’s head which she did not recognize. It was very convenient for them to all be wearing such an obvious marker, of course, which meant they were either fools or overconfident in their victory (the latter, of course, implying the former). So we had a lead which we could pursue.

Their boat, which was named the Aril’s Hammer, was beached just west of the bridge. It was over fifty feet long with nearly two dozen oars. Someone had a made significant financial investment in trying to do us harm. Another lead we could follow if needed.

We decided it would be best if our assailants simply vanished. We scuttled the boat, and weighed down the bodies before dumping them in the river.

I am trying very hard not to say anything. When we made camp, I objected to doing so right next to the bridge given that something had been spying on us. Why couldn’t we camp in the middle of nowhere like we had been doing? “It’s an obvious landmark. We’ll be easy to find!” I kept saying, but my complaints fell on deaf ears.

Erastus 24 (Morning, Riddleport)

I showed Ameiko the play Kikonu had been writing, or rather, the drafts of it that I had grabbed. I couldn’t take all of it—there were stacks and stacks and stacks of revisions—but what I had was certainly enough.

“I have seen some very bad plays, some of them spectacularly bad, but this? This exists in a world of its of its own.”

“It gets more unhinged with each revision, doesn’t it? Not that it had a great starting point.”

“If I had to endure watching this over and over, it might drive me to murder, too.”

I plan on keeping it. For the memories.

OK, that is not very Shelynite of me, I admit, but Kikonu’s motives were far from pure, here.

While most of my companions don’t have anything tying them down, both Anavaru and I still have family that we are close to. Am I supposed to just disappear for several months, with no word as to where we are going? I can’t do that to them. Sending a letter is an option, of course, but not one that I’d feel particularly good about. Mom and dad already had a hard enough time with what we did. And what we are about to do? I just can’t leave that way. I just can’t. Besides, how smart would it be to put this in a letter? Knowing what we know?

Fortunately for the two of us, Ameiko also has responsibilities back in Sandpoint that she can’t just abandon. Both the inn and her home need to be put under stewardship if not outright sold, and she can’t do that from here. Since time is likely not on our side, she has sought the services of a wizard up in the Windward district for teleports to and from, and she offered to bring Ana and me along. The logistics are complicated, but since he will essentially be on retainer for three days, I will pay his travel expenses to Magnimar from Sandpoint so that Ana and I can visit family, and for the return teleport the following day. Then we all come back here on Ameiko’s coin on the 26th.

The wizard, a personable and handsome Taldan named Thadeus, agreed to this arrangement and he didn’t even overcharge us. Not that his services were cheap, of course, but I think he simply found the proposal interesting enough to actually want to do it. Later, Ameiko opined to me privately that “the opportunity to travel with three young women probably had something to do with that.” I suppose. Maybe.

He needed about a half hour to get prepared for the trip. He works out of his home, so we are waiting in his sitting room while he packs and does whatever else it is he needs to do. As soon as he is ready, we leave.

(Late Morning, Sandpoint)

Ana secured passage for us on the noon caravan to Magnimar. While she was doing that and tying off a couple of loose ends in Sandpoint I ran an errand of my own.

Sheriff Hemlock was in his office when I arrived. He looked very surprised to see me.

“Kali! I heard some ridiculous rumor that Ameiko had talked you and your friends into going to Brinewall. On Sandru’s caravan, no less. Thank—”

I dropped a small stack of books and papers onto his desk with a light thunk. The top one read, “A History of the Brinewall Colony” in my handwriting.

The trip to Riddleport had taken four days, and I spent nearly all of it writing. So much so my wrist was still aching. No one else may have cared about what happened to Brinewall after we left, but I did.

He stared at me.

“You’re kidding.”

“No.”

He picked up the top booklet, one of my blank journals which I had repurposed for this task, and started flipping through it.

“The part you want is at the end.”

“Tell me,” he replied as he jumped to the back and worked his way through the blank pages at the end to where my handwriting had stopped. He then flipped through them one at a time, briefly scanning each.

This is where I had to be careful. I was deliberately vague in my writings and needed to do the same here.

“We don’t have all the answers, but we have enough. It was invaded by foreigners, and they had help from outsiders. As in, literal outsiders. We can’t say why, but we suspect there was something in the castle they wanted. We know they attacked the town first, killing everyone there, then the keep. They took both by surprise. The corbies were opportunists, I think, moving into the castle after the invaders had left. But that’s speculation: the colony had a history of trouble with corbies. Over time others moved in, forming a happy little cult of Pazuzu.”

His face whitened at that.

I pointed to the stack of papers. “Original letters, logs, pieces of letters, any scrap of parchment we could find that seemed relevant. We restored what we could with magic. I reconstructed all of them as well, so you have copies. Also in there are blueprints and maps of the keep. Some of the rooms are still dangerous and I’ve marked them as such. And at the very bottom are the original records that the colony’s annalist kept.”

He started to ask a question but I cut him off.

“I don’t have much time because I’m leaving soon. I am telling you this because someone needs to know. Someone who can do something about it. Brinewall is currently unoccupied. For over two decades it’s been in the hands of these beings, and strange stories have circulated about its fate, and yet neither has stopped people from looting what’s left of the town.

“Now that it stands empty again? Someone will reoccupy it. I want them to be the right people.”

I didn’t want to stay any longer. I didn’t want to have to answer questions. I’d already told one half-truth and if I didn’t leave now I’d have to do worse.

“I have to go. I’m sorry. I know this a lot to dump on you and leave, but I also know it’s in good hands.”

I walked out without listening to his reply.

(Night, Lost Coast Road)

The three of us are sharing a coach on the trip down to Magnimar.

These passenger caravans are all about comfort and speed. They can make the run in just under fourteen hours instead of the usual twenty, and though they still have to spread that out over two days there is just eight hours of travel on the first, leaving Sandpoint at noon, and six hours on the next so that you arrive almost exactly one day later. Each coach seats four; the extra passenger in ours was a man of Chelish descent that dozed off an hour outside of Sandpoint and slept almost until we reached camp that night, snoring lightly on the seat beside Thadeus.

Thadeus, Anavaru, and I talked for much of the journey on the first day though eventually the conversation turned to wizardry, of which Ana had only a passing interest. He used to be part of the Order of the Cyphers, technically making him a Cyphermage. The Cyphergate is the defining feature of Riddleport and the only reason why the city was slowly evolving into more than just a haven for thieves. Despite that, my family had never visited. Mom was normally crazy for anything Thassilonean, but the Cyphergate was much too big to put in a museum even if you couldn’t just go see it for yourself, so I guess that took it off her list.

I asked him what it was like being a Cyphermage and why he left the Order. The answer to the former was about what I expected and sounded mostly like dull routine, but the latter was far more interesting.

“After years and years of study, I felt like I might be wasting my life if I stayed, to be honest. Few will admit it, but we were no closer to understanding the Cyphergate when I left than when the Order began. If there is even anything to understand at all.” He paused and then added with a fleeting, half-smile, “It also didn’t pay very well.”

I acknowledged that last bit with a polite laugh, then asked, “You think the runes are just…decorative?”

“I don’t know. But that’s really the problem, isn’t it?”

He was silent for a moment, then continued.

“I don’t mean that it was all a waste of time, of course. Just that it was time for me to move on. There were some distinct advantages to being a part of the Order and I picked up some nice tricks while I was with them.”

Curiosity must have gotten the better of me. He saw something on my face, I think.

“Would you like to see one?”

“Oh, absolutely!”

He asked if I had the most basic spell to read and understand languages, and I said that I had it prepared.

“Good,” he replied. “And it’s late in the day, so we can afford to splurge.”

He took out a piece of parchment, tore off a small strip, and drew a strange and intricate symbol on it that I didn’t recognize. When he was done, he placed the strip under his tongue and then spoke the words to a spell.

“Now the three of us can speak a shared language, which cyphermages call codespeak, that only we three can understand.”

As he spoke, I was aware that the words he was forming were gibberish, but I could understand their meaning perfectly. Ana sat forward, suddenly as interested in this conversation as I was.

He wrote a message on the parchment, next.

“It is also a language that the three of us can read and write. Notice that you can understand what I have written on this parchment.”

We looked down and read, This message can only be understood by the three of us.

“It gets better,” he continued. “This is unique to me as the caster and the two of you. No other combination can produce this same language. Furthermore, the spell that you have memorized can’t decode it, in either the spoken or written form. Only the more powerful form that grants the ability to speak and understand tongues can do so. But, of course, it does not enable you to read language. So it can’t read this writing, either.”

“So, it’s a written language that only we can use.” I started thinking of the possibilities immediately.

“Exactly,” he replied as I felt his spell drop. “Now. Cast your spell and try to read the message.”

I did, and sure enough, it remained, stubbornly, incomprehensible gibberish. I could see him smiling out of the corner of my eye.

“And as you can see, it’s repeatable. As I implied earlier.”

He cast the spell a second time, and the writing on the parchment was intelligible once again.

“I’d be willing to let you copy that from my spellbook. For a fee, of course. It’s obviously rare so I would have to charge you more than the traditional amount. Unless you have some spell you can offer in trade to offset it.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer, and I understand that it’s rare. I…I don’t know if I have spells that are of value to you, though.”

“You might be surprised. I see few adventuring wizards and my needs are often completely different. May I?”

Adventuring?

He pointed to my pack where he assumed, correctly, that I had my spell book. One copy of it, anyway. I pulled it out and handed it to him, and he cast the spell to read the writing.

It was uncomfortable to watch another wizard look through it. It felt like I was being judged based on my spell choices. He would occasionally nod, or make sounds lightly to himself like “Mmm hmm” and “Mmm”. It was just an unpleasant feeling in general.

Again, he must have seen something in my expression.

“Please, don’t take it personally. Believe me, I know how it feels.  It’s not just about what’s new or interesting, it’s also about what’s useful or can be—”

He stopped suddenly when he reached the last spell in my book. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. He looked at me. Right at me, for what seemed like forever.

“You don’t like to have blood on your hands.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry,” he replied hastily. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that… What I meant was, save for the silly cantrips we all know, none of your spells directly cause any lasting harm. None of them. And then there is this one, which, like most of your others appears to be one that you researched on your own. Meaning, you sought this out.”

Ana turned to me and asked, “What does it do?”

Thadeus responded, still looking at me. “I’ve not seen it before, myself, but it appears to summon a deluge of rocks. Over a rather large area. Bludgeoning everything and everyone exposed. It’s rather…indiscriminate. I am intrigued, but…well…given the rest of your spells, it seems to be out of character for you.”

Ana said something to me in response to that but I wasn’t paying attention. I was still focused on Thadeus. What he said was uncomfortably accurate and it got my hackles up. I tried to stay calm. I honestly didn’t think he was trying to be rude. Was it an automatic response to being called out like that? Even after all these years.

I tried to not let any irritation show, but I am not always good at this.

“But not ‘out of character’ for you?” I asked.

“I grew up in Riddleport,” he responded casually. As if that was sufficient enough an explanation. Which…I suppose it was. He seemed to ignore my tone, if I had one.

I decided he deserved an answer. I mean, I actually liked him. He was friendly, honest, and pretty respectful of me despite being several years older and much more experienced in magic. How often does that happen? So I told him the truth.

“My friends and I will be doing more traveling, and…I need to be able to contribute. Especially outdoors.”

He studied me for a moment and then said, “Fair enough.”

And after another short pause, he added, “Well, Kali, I think we can work out a trade arrangement here.”

We spent the first couple of hours tonight copying each others’ spells under the Lover’s Moon. There’s probably a cosmic joke in there somewhere.

Erastus 25 (Evening, Sandpoint)

It’s been a long day.

We arrived in Magnimar just after noon and made arrangements to meet at 6 pm in the Seerspring Garden for the teleport back to Sandpoint. I knew my parents would be working, so I headed for their business office in Dockway. It was not the best place to have this conversation, but what choice did I have? A rhetorical question, obviously. None at all.

I wanted to get this over with, so I walked quickly and made only one stop on the way there: a bookstore in order to purchase two identical copies of a modest gazetteer on The Inner Sea. I would need those first. They were innocuous enough to not arouse suspicion, and a cursory scan of the text turned up enough of the right sort of words that I was confident they would serve their purpose.

Nothing really fazes mom and it’s something I’ve always admired about her. She was meeting with someone I didn’t recognize, a short, balding, middle-aged man, when I entered. She looked up, made eye contact with me, and then very casually said to him, “My next appointment is here. Can we pick this up again at a later time?”

“Of course! Of course! I’m sorry. If I had known…I’ll come back tomorrow morning.”

Everyone always apologizes to mom, whether it is their fault or not.

She left a clerk in charge up front and guided me back to their office where dad was working on something at his desk. He is a bit easier to surprise, but amazingly he held his composure until mom shut the door behind us.

And then I received the two biggest and longest hugs from them in recent memory. We all wiped away some tears.

A lot of people think mom isn’t very…affectionate? Maternal? But she really is. She just always has this facade up when she’s in public. There’s mom, and then there’s the person she wants you to see.

Our conversation is a jumble in my head. It started about how I expected, asking how I was, if everyone was OK, what happened, and of course, how I was back nearly two weeks early. I avoided the details at first, just reassuring them that, yes, we were all OK and had made it back from Brinewall without lasting injury, and then settled in to tell the whole story. All of it.

I cast the spell I learned from Thadeus. Was I being paranoid? Maybe. My original intention was to have this entire conversation in Vudrani but opportunity had landed in my lap and I was not going to pass it up. This was much safer for all of us.

Both mom and dad looked concerned—very concerned—as I started, but I said, “For privacy,” and they understood. And you could feel the tone shift in the room. I must have looked very serious at that moment.

“This spell will only last about forty minutes. Dad, you were right when you said I hide things from you. I…Never mind. It doesn’t matter why. No more secrets.”

And I told them. Everything. It took nearly a half an hour with their questions, but I told them. When I got to the Seal, they both turned pale. I remember thinking to myself, Living through it wasn’t much fun, either.

They were silent for a long time, just looking at each other. And then dad nodded ever so slightly, and then mom did, too. I wish I knew how they did that.

Dad said, “You are on the cusp of something of great importance.”

“Yes, I think so,” I said softly. “This is a lot bigger than we ever imagined it would be. Her family…”

“Her empire,” added mom.

I nodded.

Dad summed it up. “And you are committed. Whether you wish to be or not, you are committed to this path. Though, I suspect that these are your wishes, are they not?”

“Yes. Yes they are.”

Silence.

There was more they wanted to talk about here, a lot more, but I only had a few minutes left in the spell and I needed to get this next part out. So I cut them off. It hurt to do that, but I had to.

“I need a way to send messages to you that others can’t read. At least, until I’m able to master the spells to do it directly.”

I pulled out the books and taught him the code: triplets of numbers, representing page, paragraph, and word number. It would take me forever to write, and I would be limited by the text, but they could decode it quickly and easily. It was not very sophisticated, but the meaning could not be revealed with magic and you’d have to know what it was and which book to use (the one I’d chosen wouldn’t stand out as being unusual for either of us) to do it by hand. And, the numbers could be disguised in a phony business letter, or just sent as cryptic jumbles. It really didn’t matter how. Sure, it was simple and stupid, but it would do. And we wouldn’t need it for long, I hoped.

They left work early and we spent the rest of the afternoon together. We talked a lot, of course, though I was careful with the details. There were more questions. More worry. More reassurance where I had it. It was not easy to do. We also shopped together, purchasing a couple of books on the Linnorm Kingdoms including a small gazetteer that didn’t look terribly out of date, a stack of maps ranging from the practical (for the caravan) to the fanciful (for myself and Koya, as keepsake memories), and so on. We had an early dinner in Naos. And then…it was time to say good-bye. There is never enough time.

I think I can count the number of times I’ve seen mom and dad cry on one hand.

Erastus 26 (Evening, Riddleport)

I decided Alex was right, so I visited Sefa this morning. When was I going to have another opportunity?

I took a page out of my parents’ book and dressed to the hilt. Why not? I was derided by this family because of my heritage, so naturally I flaunted it. I chose my best sari, a deep red with gold accents and a 9-foot drape, over a matching choli.

I have no idea who the woman was that opened the door. I just announced myself as if I didn’t care (and I didn’t).

“Miss Kali Nassim of Magnimar, requesting an audience with Mrs. Sefa Scarnetti.”

The key is to be gracious and polite, no matter how many scowls it earns you. The worse you are treated, the more formal you become. Watching Titus glare at me as Sefa showed me to her wing of the manor was the highlight of my day.

After gently ribbing me for being overdressed for just a casual visit (“I felt like making an entrance,” to which she replied with a giggle, “You most certainly did that.”) we talked for a couple of hours. For me, it was, for the first time in over a month, a regular conversation about nothing of consequence: motherhood in general, her baby specifically, living in Sandpoint, and more than a little reminiscing. Between that and watching her with her son, and then holding him myself, it was one of those moments that almost had me re-examining my life choices.

Almost. I had chosen my path and I was happy with it, but I could certainly appreciate hers.

“Sefa, can I ask you something personal? You don’t have to answer.”

“Of course you can.”

“What made you decide you liked me?”

This was a question that had been on my mind for years. Making friends with Sefa had been something of a turning point, the beginning of the end of being an outcast, harassed and bullied for whatever reasons that children are labeled as outcasts, then harassed and bullied.

She thought for a moment, then said, “At some point, I realized that what was happening was just…cruel. I saw it for what it was.” She shrugged, then added, “And then I got to know you.”

“Our friendship…it changed my life. I wanted you to know that.”

“Thank you, Kali. That means a lot to me. And I met Alex because of you, so…it changed mine, too.”

I kept this same outfit on for the remainder of the day. I felt like returning to Riddleport in style.

 

Erastus 19 (Night, Brinewall Cemetery)

We are back in the cemetery, recovering from what has been a long and difficult day both physically and emotionally.

I finally recognized the thing in the caverns as a decapus, though I didn’t know that they could get this large, nor did I know that they could fly (perhaps this one was special?). In what I assume was its lair we found a leathery egg that was split open, still pulsing, that was just the right size. So it seems we have been given a lesson in its biology as well.

Surrounding a large, flat rock that looked like a makeshift altar was a pile of treasure, arranged almost as if in tribute. Among this collection were three items of particular interest to me: a pearl that could be used to recall a single spell that had been cast each day, a darkwood and silver disk engraved with an image of Brinewall under the moon, and a stone statue of Pazuzu.

Gods, there has been too much Pazuzu here.

We have another one of these discs, only it shows the sun in the sky instead of the moon. Our suspicion is that these are keys to the vault.

The key you seek lies in the grip of the ten-handed one…

One treasure beyond two seals in the third vault.

Qatana tried to destroy the statue but made the mistake of handling it first (though to be fair, we didn’t realize that this was a problem until after she had done it). Now, the cursed thing will not stay away from her. It appears in her pack if she tries to walk away from it, or in her hands if she leaves her pack behind. She says it is as heavy as lead and it slows her down as she struggles with its weight. I have heard of cursed items like these, made more as cruel jokes and annoyances than anything else, but I imagine this one is a spiritual fuck you for not being one of his worshipers.

Olmas and Sparna seem to find this quite amusing. For the first time since we came together as a group, Qatana is physically unable to get out of their sight.

The third set of stairs led down to the vaults, access to them blocked by a portcullis. The discs, which radiated a faint aura of transmutation, acted as keys to raise and lower the bars. As soon as we stepped in, the dust in the room swirled around and took a human form. Even with the light we brought with us, it was dark and hard to see but the features of a Tian man were unmistakeable.

Grandfather waits in the dark, but he knows not who he was.

It had been many years since I had been in the Kaijitsu manor, but I had seen the family portraits. It was not obvious, and without the riddle I doubt I would have made the connection, but knowing what I knew it was clear I was facing the image of Ameiko’s grandfather.

Tentatively, I asked, “Rokuro?”

The wraith was raising a ghostly sword above its head readying to strike, but upon hearing this it stopped and the fury in its eyes melted away.

“I…know…that…name…”

And then he cried out in anguish, pointing his sword at the wall.

“Take the seal from here! I can no longer guard it. Take it to my child! I can no longer defend it.”

And then he vanished, leaving nothing but dust behind.

Radella searched the wall and discovered a hidden door, one so well constructed that we might not have found it on our own. It led to a third vault, as predicted, and unlike the other two this one had not been looted: three chests sat within, each radiating magic.

It was the center chest that mattered. It was locked; Radella swears it was locked (and I believe her). But the very second she started on the mechanism, the chest just…opened. As if it had been waiting for her all along.

Inside was a finely-lacquered, Tian-style puzzle box. It was radiating a strong magic, but none of us could identify the aura, nor a means of opening it. But, this had to be it. This box was the key to Ameiko’s condition, and perhaps held hints about her family, her past, and her future.

It’s too late to do this tonight. I have spent all of my spells, and the others are exhausted. We will head back to the caravan at first light.

This is almost over.

Erastus 20 (Early morning, The Nolands)

I am writing this down now before I lose it, while it is still fresh in my head.

As soon the box was opened—I don’t even remember who did it now—I caught sight of the small, stone dragon statuette and then the world faded away.

I was no longer in Brinewall. I was standing on the edge of a vast Forest overlooking the kingdom of Minkai while a ferocious storm raged above. As I stood in the rain, a terrifying army of fiends—their skin ablaze beneath their armor—emerged from the trees. This advancing wall of tusks, fire, and steel marched around me, eyes glaring, and descended into the country at my back.

As the invasion began, the vision shifted to a simple well where the Emperor Shigure of Minkai stood alongside a friend. Again, I watched. His friend transformed, growing several times in size to stand sheathed in twisted, jade armor. He drew a sword and struck Shigure down, then held the blade over his head in triumph, blood dripping from its edge.

The vision shifted a third time, and I was in the city of Kalsgard. Rokuro Kaijitsu, whose true name is Amatatsu Tsutoku, was selling a beautiful sword to an Ulfen merchant to finance his trip across the world. I could feel that sword, an intelligent weapon named Suishen, and the knowledge it possessed: the Amatatsu family history.

Again, the vision changed. Now it was my childhood friend, Ameiko, waking up from her sleep. Not from our campsite in Brinewall, but in the arms of an ornate, jade throne. She was dressed as an empress, no longer the tavern owner and bard I have known most of my life.

And then I knew. Ameiko was the last surviving heir of her line, of the last surviving royal family of Minkai. The Seal, or the spirit that resided in it, knew this as well and had marked us all as scions of the Amatatsu family. An insurance policy, of sorts, to ensure the royal family’s survival. Heirs designate.

Brinewall returned, then, and Ameiko awoke with a gasp.

The Amatatsu Seal. It sat there in the box, and I knew it to be a powerful artifact. So powerful it could be tracked across any distance, and its presence hidden only by the warding box in which it had been contained. I remembered Tsutoku’s letter to his son—to Ameiko’s father. And just as the realization dawned on me, Ameiko yelled out, “Put that thing back in the box!”

After using it rid Qatana of that foul idol (it also told us it’s power, one of which was to remove curses), we placed it back in the warding box and closed the compartments. Someone, I think it may have been Qatana, said “We have to leave. We have to get out of here now.”

Indeed. We had just lit a signal fire, one so big it could be seen across the world. Again, the words of Tsutoku’s letter came to me.

If our enemies find what I have hidden, there will be nothing here for you. If they do not, they will lie in wait forever for your return.

I looked around at my friends. You could tell from their faces that each of us that had been in that crypt had experienced these visions (even poor Kelda, who had stubbornly refused to admit that she had been in over her head before). All the plans we had made for that day—cleansing the temple to Desna, repairing Kelda’s boat, tying up loose ends in the ruins of the keep—were abandoned.

While the caravan was hastily prepped for the return to the road, I had a growing sense of unease. I felt myself getting weaker and light-headed. I sat down in the grass behind the covered wagon, out of sight of the others, and started shaking as the panic swelled. All of this…it was too much.

Nihali landed on my shoulder, and I found her presence soothing. She brought me down. A minute or so later I got up, wiped away the tears, and rejoined the others. I don’t think anyone saw. If they did, they’ve been kind enough not to say.

We reach Riddleport in four days. The plan is to take Ameiko, and ourselves, across the Crown of the World to the kingdom of Minkai in Tian Xia. We don’t know what we’ll find there, but it’s clear the road will not be easy.

Both Spivey and Kelda have chosen to join us. Spivey will be with us indefinitely, and Kelda at least as far as Kalsgard. I don’t know what Kelda will do after that, but I hope she stays on. She is gruff and occasionally crude, but I have to admit that I like her because she’s so open and direct. As for Spivey, I simply find her presence reassuring. I don’t know how to explain it beyond that.

Our first stop on our journey will be Kalsgard to hopefully recover Suishen as we may need the knowledge it possesses, and Ameiko deserves the opportunity to reclaim a piece of her heritage. I don’t know how we’ll get it back, but one problem at a time I suppose. First, we have to find it.

Erastus 19 (Noon, Brinewall Castle dungeon)

Radella is meticulously and patiently working the locking mechanism to the hidden passage in the cavern in order to coax it into opening. There is a striking dichotomy in watching her finesse her tools like this: her movements are slow, gentle, and precise, in contrast to the enormous sword laying on the ground at her side which she normally swings with a terrifying strength. I don’t really know how to characterize her. I’ve been exposed to enough grafters, vagabonds, and thieves to recognize the archetypes when I see them—my time spent in Magnimar was all too instructive—but she defies such simple classification. In this way she is a lot like Ana: neither of them fits the mold into which their kind are typically cast.

Where does this door lead? It has been cut from the stone of this hollow and worked in a manner to hide its existence. That, combined with the complexity of the lock, suggests it was intended as an escape passage, a secret entrance, or perhaps both. The Historical Record does mention this network of caverns below the castle, and it would seem that the builders incorporated them into the dungeon’s construction (even if they blew it on the structural planning). Using them in this manner certainly makes sense.

Before descending from the ground floor we explored the outbuildings on the west end of the keep. The wooden structures were almost certainly horse stables in their time, but now they were home to an ettercap and its giant spider companions. At learning this, I completely froze. I am not afraid of spiders so much as their venom; I know what it does, I know what my limitations are, and because of that I did not want to be anywhere near them. Fortunately, my companions were more than up to the task and I was not only not needed, but likely to have gotten in the way had I been part of the battle. So far I don’t think anyone has noticed my reluctance (inability?) to engage with these creatures—this is the second time that it has come up—but I worry that one of them will make the connection if it becomes a recurring theme.

We had our choice of three stairways for coming down here and we opted to follow our noses, which meant starting from the room where we first encountered troglodytes. I couldn’t really find fault with the logic, as we suspected there were more of them down here and we’d have to deal with them eventually, but it did mean beginning in the midst of a foul stench and descending into far worse until we were nearly choking on it.

It also provided an opportunity to correct an oversight from earlier, which was to search the debris in that room for anything of value (in our defense, we were expecting reinforcements to arrive at any moment, so we had more urgent matters demanding our attention). And it’s a good thing we did because we would have missed some valuable clues about Brinewall’s fall: that room appeared to have been a meeting room of some sort, and buried in the trash were tattered and torn reports from the night the castle was attacked.  The remnants were incomplete, but we were able to assemble enough pieces to reconstruct the night’s events. The guards in the castle were preparing to respond to what they thought were riots in the town. The implication here is that the attack on the town came first and was misinterpreted as civil unrest. The guard probably learned the truth only when the invaders were inside the castle walls.

Sparna took the lead in descending the stairs, being perhaps the only one of us who is heavily armed, heavily armored, and capable of seeing in the dark. As we suspected, there were more troglodytes down below, but rather than launch an attack through a narrow doorway we opted to try and bring the fight to us. This almost worked.

I haven’t known many dwarves so I don’t know if this is typical or not but Sparna has a somewhat crass sense of humor that tends towards blue, and while I can appreciate this it seems that the troglodytes did not. I say that the plan almost worked because he succeeded in goading some of them up the stairs, but I was ultimately too clever for my own good and may have been our strategy’s undoing. The grease my spell placed on the landing was effective, and unexpectedly entertaining, but it presented one obstacle too many for the enemy. The remaining troglodytes were smart enough to withdraw, retreating to a fortified position and leaving us with the original problem, only now with them alerted and better prepared.

Still, we are a resourceful group and Qatana and I were able to deliver some unpleasant surprises that softened their ranks, and after a fierce and intense battle, our party was victorious. This was no easy task, as the troglodytes were not only dug in but highly, if not surprisingly, disciplined and remained so even after Sparna had felled their commander.

A small armory near there yielded a surprising find: a case containing several flasks of alchemist’s fire. I glanced over to Etayne and she gave me one of her ominous grins. The witch is downright obsessed with fire.

(Mid-Afternoon)

We are taking a few moments to rest and to heal. Especially Olmas, who took a severe pounding.

With the ogres dead we could finally turn our attention to the Ulfen woman being held prisoner in one of the cells. She was tall and slender, but hardly slight: there was no mistaking the muscular build of a warrior. She had watched the entire fight in stoic silence, and cold, hard eyes glared at us through dirty and matted blond hair after it had ended.

Etayne, ever the diplomat, started the conversation.

“Who are you?! What are you doing here?!”

I suggested that we tone down the interrogation a bit, but too many people had questions they wanted to have answered and they all came out seemingly at once. Eventually, the woman had had enough. “Am I your prisoner now?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“No.”

We took the keys off the bodies of her former jailers and opened the cell, but she did not step out. Her eyes kept wandering to a pile of armor and equipment on the floor next to the wall.

“Are those your things?” Qatana asked.

She nodded.

“Go ahead.”

And at that, she softened. Just a little. After she had donned her armor and weapons, I asked, “Was that your longboat we saw docked in the lagoon?”

She was reluctant to talk about it at first but confirmed that it was. Kelda Oxgutter—that is her name—came here some days ago with companions from the Linnorm Kingdoms. They had heard the stories of Brinewall and assumed, wrongly, that the abandoned town and keep would be ripe for looting. When they came ashore they were attacked by the sea drake and Kelda was the only survivor. She was captured while exploring the castle on her own.

In turn, she asked why we were here. I explained about Ameiko, her condition, and the connection to her past and her family. Maybe that was more than I should have said, but she had shared quite a bit with us, so it seemed fair to respond in kind.

“It is possible that what we learn here may take us farther north. Perhaps, eventually, across the crown of the world to Tian Xia.”

“If that is the case, I’d be willing to accompany you as far as Kalsgard.”

Honor and reputation matter a great deal to the Ulfen people, in the Kingdoms in general, and the way she spoke of her companions and her capture suggested that it meant a great deal to her, personally. But could we trust her? She seemed as wary of us as we did of her. The story she told did not contradict anything we had seen, and it also answered some questions of our own. So, I believed her. If this was a ruse, it was ridiculously elaborate.

She also looked more than capable in a fight, too. So why not take the chance?

(Late Afternoon)

That may have been the most frightening encounter we’ve had, and among the most difficult. Qatana has been badly hurt; likely poisoned. It is dead, but we threw everything we had at it, and in my case even things that we didn’t.

It began in the crypt. The sarcophagi had been broken open and despoiled. Everything of importance in there had been taken including the bodies of the dead. The entrance to it was in the center of an intricate iron screen: a wooden door adorned with a beautiful painting of Pharasma, goddess of birth, death, fate and prophecy, seated on her throne. To Pharasma, what had happened in here was a terrible crime. Her priests are stewards of the deceased and protectors of graves.

I was immediately suspicious when an image of her manifested at the far end of the tomb where the wall had partially collapsed to reveal a cavern beyond. But being skeptical is not the same as being certain, and though I am knowledgeable in matters of religion Qatana is the expert when it comes to Pharasma. She began her life in that church before…well. Before.

“Qatana…? We need you here.”

I needed time for my spell to work, to confirm my suspicions that this was merely an illusion. The image of Pharasma spoke to us, encouraging us to lay down our arms and approach; this was almost certainly a trap. The brief exchange that followed was enough to confirm for Qatana that this “Pharasma” was a fake, and for me to recognize the source of the image as mortal magic. Radella put an arrow through it, and it was gone.

But who, or what, created it?

We entered the cavern beyond the crypt and found ourselves on a wide ledge a good twenty feet above another passage. And then I saw it floating up near the ceiling. It looked like a deformed octopus, only with a giant maw filled with sharp teeth, and ten tentacles that were writhing in the air. I quietly spread the word, but its senses were keen and it hit us with a powerful spell before we could react.

One night last year, as we were discussing magic theory, Eudonius told me that it was possible for wizards to perform spells beyond just what we had prepared as part of our morning rituals, only that doing so meant drawing upon the very energy that sustains us. He cautioned that it was not a decision to be made lightly because of the toll it exacts, but I looked up at that thing as it swooped in for an attack, at our weapons bouncing harmlessly off of its hide, and I knew that this was the time. I had memorized a summoning spell—my sole remaining spell for the day—but the creatures I could conjure with it were not up to this task. So I did it. As I worked the spell I reached deep into myself and shaped it into a more powerful form, one that I was not yet able to prepare on my own. I could feel a wave of fatigue wash over me as I did it, but I succeeded in bringing forth a powerful ally to assist us: a lantern archon.¹

The glowing ball of light materialized in the air behind the decapod and began searing it with beams of light and energy. In the meantime, my friends had figured out that it was vulnerable to either weapons made from cold iron or enchanted with magic, and the sum total of these attacks exacted a terrible revenge for what it had done to Qatana. It quickly broke off and flew back up to the ceiling where we had first seen it, and cried out to Pazuzu.

“Father! Help me! Pazuzu!” it shrieked, over and over.

It was…almost pitiful. Almost. And then Qatana hit it with a spell, a burst of sound, and it blew apart in the air.

Afterwards, the others told me it seemed to flinch and hesitate during the fight, that it singled out Qatana, and was distracted easily by their taunts. And I recalled the riddle Ameiko had spoken:

The key you seek lies in the grip of the ten-handed one. His fear is your greatest ally.

Another one down. Only two remain.