Starday, 31 Abadius 4713
Creduvian House, Magnimar
The hearth was still warm, but the embers were dying. Dinner had been welcome, but not very filling. Often, it wasn’t, these days.
Money was no longer flush in their home, but Roxanda and her parents had managed to finally get a place of their own again for the family. True, there had been better times in the past, but out of respect for her father, they didn’t bring up the past.
As it was, the family already found they had to remind him frequently he was now “retired” and any obligation to support his children had long since been met. It was his turn to be taken care of. With a muttered grunt and silent acknowledgement, he made it clear that while it may be true, it chafed him greatly. It had been a while since the day when Tobar was the patriarch of Creduvian Couriers, a successful and respected courier and shipping service. At times, some very wealthy merchants would trust nobody but him to get their shipments of goods to and from Sandpoint, Roderic’s Cove, or even Korvosa.
But then there’d been a dishonest driver, missing goods, and a soiled reputation. Competition for deliveries was fierce, margins were thin, and his competitors could sense blood in the water. All it took was a few anonymous innuendos and a few discounted offers from his competition, and his wealthy customers were gone. Too often loyalty is measured by the gold piece, and under the shadow of accusation, the business struggled and for all intents and purposes, succumbed.
Effectively, it was gone now. The business that Tobar had hoped to pass to his sons Vankor and Bevelek was nothing but a weight around their neck. The family name, a symbol of prestige for so long, was now a hurdle to overcome anywhere in Magnimar. “Creduvian, you say? Sorry, we have all the drivers we need.” Tobar and his wife of over 35 years, Ioanela, were, officially, among the poor.
Retirement. It may be a thinly veiled euphemism for her father, but it was not an option for her younger brothers.
These days, it was Roxanda who was the main source of income with her job as an assistant at The Old Fang. Vankor and Bevelek had been working hard at their father’s business when the bottom fell out and they found themselves unemployed, and unemployable because of their name. Thank the gods for Sandru, who never did follow the mainstream. While he couldn’t restore their good name, he helped them create a new one (Dalmuvian) and offered them a place on his team. Eventually, the plan was to establish new credentials, escape their old, and perhaps still become successful businessmen. In the best case, they might take up some of Sandru’s business when he retired.
They rarely accompanied the caravan to Magnimar for obvious reasons, so the road was their home these days. But business with Sandru was good, and they both sent a healthy percentage of their earnings back home to support their parents. Being associated with a delivery service still had one important benefit: letters home were delivered quickly. Those ‘in the business’ knew how important they could be, and personal messages from drivers and employees were delivered by whomever was going in the right direction, free of charge, as a professional courtesy.
Although it was barely twilight, Roxanda was willing to let the fire die and go to bed. But her gaze turned to a box overflowing with different kinds of parchment and paper. Bed often came early these hard days, but reading her brothers’ letters comforted her. She was closest with Bevelek, which was good because he was a much more frequent writer. On second thought, she threw a bit more fuel on the fire, lit a lamp, and started once again to reread some of the letters.
24 Sarenith 4712
Sandpoint
Dear Roxanda,
I had thought we might be heading out to Korvosa next, but Sandru received an urgent letter about midway to Magnimar and we turned north to Sandpoint. This place is rich with history – well, recent history, if you consider the Runelord incident. The Sandpoint Heros haven’t been seen in what, five years now? I keep thinking that we might run into them, although I’m not sure what I’d do if I did. Ask for a little gold, I guess, if the stories are accurate!
Sandru has a friend here, Ameiko, with whom he’s meeting. Judging from the look on his face when he got the urgent letter, somebody must be in deep guano. Not to revel in the misfortunes of others, but if deep guano yields more money, I’m all for it! Vankor, of course, is taking the cautious approach; he doesn’t believe that the path that yields the most money is necessarily the best one. He may be right in the long run, but for now, more money is a very good thing.
We’re not that far from Magnimar, so I hope this letter reaches you quickly and finds you safe.
your brother,
Bevelek
2 Erastus 4712
Sandpoint
Dear Roxanda,
I’m not sure how often I will be writing in the future. Sandru has gotten all secretive and a little scary about this next delivery. He called us all together and said that if anybody wanted to step out for this one, he’d understand and they’d still have a place when we returned.
If we returned, he corrected himself. That immediately led to a bunch of questions that he said he couldn’t answer. It could be more hazardous than usual, he said. We’d be delivering to the north, but he couldn’t say the final destination. He did say that owing to the hazard, the pay for this trip would be a little better. He admitted it was part business and part personal favor.
Only one person opted out; Vankor and I, of course, smiled at each other at the mention of more money. Sandru said to us that despite the minimal training most of us have at fencing, he wanted each of us to purchase a blade to bring along. He would reimburse us. He said there was a decent chance there would be more robbers along this road.
He declined to describe the cargo we’d be taking on. He did say there would be a fair number of extra personnel on this trip. I’ve had a chance to meet most if not all of the “extra personnel” and I hope they are more skilled than they appear.
There’s Anavaru. She dresses like she lives on the road a lot, and seems to have an affinity for animals. Large ones, if her “mount” is any indication. I have never seen a camel before, but Sandru says now I have.
Kali is a slight thing. She tends to dress brightly, and carries no weapon that I can see. I am surprised by her presence on this delivery. Although her parents have used Sandru’s service several times before, they have never sent a personal emissary. I wonder if she is the ‘delivery to the north’. Sandru doesn’t usually take passengers but perhaps he has made an arrangement with her parents because of their history.
By contrast, Radella carries a sword that is both impressive in its length and slender in its width. Despite the size of her sword (and herself) she moves smoothly, deliberately, and at times, silently. I assume she is here as an additional guard.
Shalelu is elven, and smells of the forest, not unlike Anavaru. She carries an obvious blade, however, and I sense that it would be a mistake to believe it to be strictly ornamental.
Olmas is also elven, or maybe half elven, and also has a mount – a much more conventional “horse”. I believe I’ve heard him call it Cashmere. He carries a longsword and although he may be yet another guard (how valuable is this cargo?) he also seems to order people around – or try to. They don’t seem to listen.
Speaking of not listening, Qatana is also among these ‘extra personnel’. I should not say she doesn’t listen; what I should say is that she seems to hear things nobody else does … and not in an oracle-like way. She can be friendly and outgoing one instant, and angry and in your face the next.
Ameiko has all the equipment for a swordsman, but seems … I don’t know, rusty in the way she carries it. She would likely still do better than I in a fight though. I wonder if she and Sandru were an item in the past.
Ivan is an ordinary human with a bow. I suppose he will be a good hunter should we need to forage.
Koya, of course, is our fortuneteller. It is a good omen to have her along. Lately, she’s been playfully complaining that the longer trips are too taxing for a woman of her, uh, advancing years. She’s never missed one, though, save last year when she was stricken with the Varisian Flu.
Etayne seems familiar with plants. Perhaps we will have an actual cook for this journey instead of whoever drew the short straw in the morning. Although, I may miss Sandru’s meals, which always start with some form of ale marinade.
Among the usual crew is Sandru, of course, Vankor and I, and Sparna. If we do have any run-ins, I am confident that Sparna will be at the front line and will make them wish they’d picked a vendor cart rather than Sandru’s caravan.
All in all, we are five rather heavily armed, and really, rather lightly loaded wagons heading north. Sandru vaguely hinted we may be back in a few weeks. If so, perhaps we could meet briefly in Magnimar? I haven’t seen you, mother and father in some time now. I’ll try to send a note ahead to let you know we’re near.
your brother,
Bevelek
20 Erastus 4712
North of Sandpoint
Dear Roxanda,
Sorry to be vague, but Sandru has asked that I (and all of us, in our correspondence and conversations) be cirumspect about our location. What I can say for certain is that this trip isn’t over.
Something very important happened this morning, judging from the gasps and other sounds that came out of Ameiko’s wagon. She has been ill for a while now, and Koya has not been able to determine exactly how to make her better. Now, however, she not only seems better, but … different somehow.
Most of the caravan people were in or near that wagon when that important thing happened, but Vankor and I were not. Sandru took us aside later and said this trip was going farther north than he’d previously thought. While underscoring we’d continue to be paid for our services should we continue, he wanted to again give us the option of returning to Sandpoint and awaiting the caravan’s return. Of course, we both decided to stay.
He looked both relieved and worried. He asked if we had practiced much with our swords, and of course the answer was no – keeping a caravan going is already a full time job. As requested we have them but beyond that …
I have noticed a warrior woman seems to have joined our caravan. She seems to be yet another guard. What IS it that we are carrying? How far is Kali going to go?
But he urged us to get practice in. He said that the – that those who opposed – that bandits might be more numerous on this leg of the trip. Unfortunately for him, Sandru does not lie well. That statement alone already raised more questions: who are “they”? They aren’t bandits, clearly. “Leg of the trip?” How many legs might this trip have?
He rolled his eyes and muttered a short curse. “I cannot say more at this point,” he admitted. “But – do I need to hire more staff?”
Of course not. I don’t know what cargo we are carrying, but this journey is paying well. Perhaps you can take some of what I’m sending and treat Mother and Father to a nice meal out.
I’m slowly getting the sense that Sandru may be viewing this as his last caravan. He seems “all in” on this one, but he’s not said a word about future jobs, contracts, deliveries. Very unusual. Maybe … just maybe, this will be our chance to take over some of his business. Wouldn’t that be great? I don’t want to dwell on it too much because we’re so far away that that the transition would be hard, but, as I rose this morning and saw the light brighten over the castle, I dared to believe this might be a new beginning.
Don’t say anything to Father yet. But the rest of the party seemed driven by new purpose this morning, and maybe for a different reason, so am I.
with a light heart,
Bevalek
14 Arodus 4712
Kalsgard
Dear Roxanda,
It would seem there is no longer any particular point in disguising where I’m writing from. We are so far north that if our enemies were to intercept this, they either already know our location or we would be long gone by the time they got here.
Yes, I said enemies. A week ago, a group of two-score warriors attacked us at night as we camped near the river outside Kalsgard. I was indeed happy to have a sword, but the other, more skilled warriors in our camp did far more damage to our attackers. In fact, demure little Kali literally made the earth tremble with her magic. I am no more sure where we are taking her, but I do know I do NOT want her angry at me!
And we’ve been told to watch for “suspicious birds,” whatever that may mean.
While here, the group seems to be searching for something. Sometimes it seems to be a person, and sometimes it seems to be a thing. Or maybe it’s both. I’m not in the loop on this, and if 40 warriors are willing to die to stop us, I’m not sure I want to be in the loop. Even though we are buying and selling cargo as we move from town to town, this is clearly not a typical caravan run.
A lot has changed. Kali clearly has no need of a weapon, and seems more than capable of protecting herself. The extra warrior we picked up at Brinewall proved most helpful. Even Sandru, Ameiko, and Shalelu showed they have more battle skills than I’d given them credit for. I have never been on a journey like this before.
Have to go now. Vankor and I made plans to spar. We both are highly motivated to improve our fencing skills these days. Please do not worry, though. It is apparent that the group we are with is quite capable of defending themselves and the caravan and although I may still hold a longsword a bit awkwardly, I am confident that anybody attacking us will die before I do.
your swordmaster brother,
Bevalek
Roxanda rubbed her brow and wiped away imaginary sweat. Bandits was one thing, but the idea that her brother had faced 40 warriors, all armed with swords and armor? It worried her when she first read the letter several weeks ago, and bothered her still. He had never been in the army or even a local reserve. She shuffled through the correspondence, searching for … ah. There it was.
10 Neth 10 4712
Iqaliat
Dear sister –
More things have happened since we left Kalsgard than I would expect in ten lives. If every caravan that comes to the Crown of the World must endure the trials that we have, it’s a wonder that we even know there is ice there.
There was Ravenscrag, the castle high in the mountain. And all the ninjas that attacked us (well, attacked the “guards” for our caravan – it’s apparent now why we have so many). And the sword that, I swear, can talk but has no mouth. And Etayne – Etayne felt it was time for her to leave, which made the group sad, and smaller just when it looked like large numbers was a very good idea. There was Ulf, who we’d been seeking as our guide to points farther north.
But there was also the fearsome wolf who became our ally. There were giant winter spiders, big as a man – right, I know! – and the COLD. Oh, and left for last …
A dragon.
A. Giant. Huge. Actual. White. Frikken. Dragon.
Right. But not with fire breath – no, not here in the north. It has the breath of a winter blast. It has the ability to literally freeze you in your tracks. I’ve been working with the sword but what’s this little toadsticker going to do against a DRAGON? If I’m not mistaken, I believe our group committed to dealing with this dragon, which has been terrorizing the town for several weeks now. I mean, sure, ninjas, maybe man-size spiders, but this is a DRAGON!
And yet – I would have thought the ninjas or the man-size spiders would have been too much too but this group is just … just … what’s the word I’m looking for?
Overqualified. I just realized it. I’ve said before this trip was special in some way and I think now I think there is abundant evidence that this group of “guards” and “drivers” is very overqualified for those positions. So what IS our purpose? The only thing I know for sure that it isn’t to take cargo to these distant places. It’s true, we ARE making money but all these side adventures suggest to me there is something else going on. If it’s not a person, perhaps we are carrying some important document. I heard one of the fighters say something about “keeping it hidden in Ameiko’s wagon.” I asked Sandru and he frowned briefly before smiling and saying, “Congratulations – your keen ears have discovered the secret location of the last container of pickled beans. At least until we pick up more at the market!”
Actually, to be perfectly honest, Roxanda – it’s all frighteningly exciting. Who knew that a ox-wrangler such as myself would turn out to be the greatest dragonslayer upon the Great Ice? I shall use my talking sword to slay it thusly, and return with its head, and we shall mount it in a place of honor in the Grand Foyer of our mansion!
your dragon fighting brother,
Bevelek
P.S. Vankor says I am overly melodramatic. But you remember him – he’s the one overly blind in both eyes.
P.P.S. One of the guards does have a talking sword. I’ve no idea how that works, where exactly he got it, or what he paid for it. The others seem to mock him for it so maybe a talking sword is actually a curse.
—-
Roxanda smiled, but the smile flitted only briefly before settling into a worried, almost grim line of concern. Imagining either of her brothers brandishing a sword and facing a dragon like an actor in some sort of fantasy play was amusing, but in real life neither was a swordsman, and neither had battled anything more dangerous than an escaped goat. Any such encounter would not last long.
She glanced at the date on the letter. Letters from the top of the world did not come speedily and it was amazing they came at all. That last one had taken weeks.
As she carefully refiled the letter from Bevelek, a faint smile crossed her face. He may be the younger, but he did have a way with the pen, and she could almost hear –
A panic grabbed her by the chest. It came from nowhere, but she suddenly felt a jolt – no, a sadness. Surprise? And then … and a pain deeper than any she’d felt before. How can you die and still be breathing? The shock left her sagging and gasping in her chair. Then it was gone, and all she had was her racing heart, her sweaty face, and her shallow breaths. Her eyes fell to the letter from Bevelek, now trembling uncertainly in her hand.
There was a shriek from the back of the house. Roxanda leapt from her bench and ran towards the sound, to find her mother leaning against a wall, barely upright, with terror-stricken eyes. She looked at her daughter and said, in a very small voice, one word.
“Bevelek.”
Roxanda’s eyes were haunted as they darted back to the bench and the letter that had fluttered to the floor. She gently supported her sobbing mother as she said, “I felt it too!” and hugged her tightly.
At that same moment, many hundreds of miles north, and then south again, a man fell, awkwardly holding a sword before a shadowy figure no longer of this earth.
A half hour later, many hundreds of miles north, and then south again, a different man started a letter he never expected to write, using skills he found awkward, struggling with words he never hoped to use.
“I don’t know when this will be delivered, as there are no other caravans nearby right now. But even if none of us survive this trip, I can hope that whoever finds us will deliver this letter. Dearest sister, you should know that today Bevelek bravely -”
And the man paused until the tears passed.
Starday, 13 Erastus 4713
Creduvian House, Magnimar
The courier left without knowing that he had carried the most valuable delivery ever to the House of Creduvian. But the small package and the two scrolls he carried – which from the reaction was one more than was apparently expected – were eagerly accepted, and he was tipped well.
Roxanda, Tobar, and Ioanella, took everything inside, and gently placed it on the dining table. Ceremoniously, they retrieved three chairs and slowly sat on three sides of the table. It had been a little more than six months since that night when Roxanda and her mother had felt the great pain, and they were certain what this package and at least one of the letters contained.
Tobar solemnly lit a single candle and placed it in the center of the table. Roxanda unconsciously wiped her palms on her tunic and glanced at her mother. She stared almost straight ahead before blinking slowly and turning her gaze to her husband. He took a deep breath and reached for one of the scrolls.
—-
Jaagiin
17 Abadius 4713
Dear Roxanda –
I am astonished to be writing this. I was not present when it happened, yet the evidence is irrefutable. A week ago, our caravan ‘guards’, ‘scouts’, and ‘wagonmasters’ left to go ‘deal with’ the dragon I mentioned earlier. They’d made some deal with the town of Iqaliat. And returned … with pieces of dragon.
The town of Iqaliat arose in celebration, even though it turns out their shaman had been the one to provoke the dragon in the first place. Before we left, Ivan even married one of the townspeople. We were told we were welcome back at any time – and Iqaliat is known for being somewhat cautious with outsiders.
From there, we began a long trip across the Ice and the Crown of the World. Since we have left, we have encountered strange animals, demons, ghosts, and undead. I get the sense that the Ice is not normally populated by most of these things but that instead, our journey, people, or cargo is drawing powerful attention. There is still some secret being kept among most of the group, and I’m afraid to ask Sandru any more about it because it might just be safer not to know.
The ‘guards’ and ‘drivers’ we picked up continue to amaze me. At least two have proven to be increasingly powerful magic users, while the others have gotten deadlier and more accurate with their weapons of choice. All to our credit, because had they not I would not be writing this letter! Olmas, with the talking blade, has recently discovered that when wielded particularly well, it can burst into flame and startle an opponent. Ivan’s bow, I swear, can shoot an entire quiver in one shot – and 80% of that will draw blood!
While I will never approach the skills of our swordsmen and archers, my training continues. I am taking Sandru’s request seriously because I’ve seen the things that can approach us and I fear the day when these others are absent or dead and defense falls to us. This trip is more fantastic than any we’ve undertaken, but more dangerous than any as well.
We are now in Jaagiin, and we face crossing the Wall of Heaven – the last mountain range before returning to warmer clime. I admit, it already is warmer by simply getting off the high ice, but warmer now means it ordinarily takes a full hour to freeze to death rather than minutes.
i expect my next missive will have to wait until we cross the mountain, and you’ve probably already noticed that as we get farther away, it takes longer to receive letters. Don’t worry – that’s just the way courier service works! Hah!
your distant brother,
Bevelek
“Well. ” began Roxanda, more to break the empty silence than anything. Although her father remained classically stoic, both her mother and she were certain this was the last letter they would read from Bevelek, and that alone was enough to bring a tear to their eyes.
With a heavy hand and a sigh, Tobar reached for the other scroll. He opened it and his eyes fell to the last lines. “It’s from Vankor,” he said, and even his voice trembled. “Dear parents and Roxanda,” he began reading. “I am writing this having passed through – literally through – the Wall of Heaven.” Tobar began to read in a mumbling sort of voice. “… more undead … dozen or more … Bevelek …”
And then a strange thing happened. As he continued reading, Tobar’s eyes got big. His voice stopped working, and for the first time in many years, he began to openly weep. And then laugh. And point at the letter. And try to talk. And look to the heavens, hands supplicant. And finally, just put his head down on the table, his whole body shaking. Roxanda cried silent tears and gently took the parchment to finish what her father could not complete.
Ordu-Arcanhei, Tian Xia
20 Calistril 4713
Dear parents and Roxanda;
I am writing this having passed through – literally through – the Wall of Heaven. We were frustrated by foul weather through the best mountain pass, and there was talk in the caravan of yet another supernatural being trying to frustrate our trip. Knowing no way of thwarting it, we turned instead to the faint hope that a dream of Koya’s had given us. She was reminded of a legend of a path through the mountain rather than over it. It would lie to the east, but she knew not how far. Figuring we had nothing to lose, Sandru turned us east.
And we did in fact find an opening to a cave, marked with a strange mix of religious symbols. Unfortunately what may have once been a well-maintained passageway had fallen into disrepair and seemed to have been desecrated.
It was in this passage, while blocked by a city of the dead, that the dead rose up and attacked. And what I’d feared might happen, did: they attacked while the powerful fighters were away. There were more undead than we could handle; a dozen or more. Somehow sensing the attack, the others quickly returned from their exploring of the city, but not before Bevelek died defending his friends. Died at the hands of a faceless undead creature which his sword seemed unable to wound. Skill was not an issue. Magic was what eventually killed this cursed horde.
I’d lost my spirit. I started a letter to you outlining how Bevelek had died honorably and bravely, and was considering whether to continue. But I was inside a mountain! Where else would I go?
Then Qatana, the cleric of Grotus, came to me and said, on behalf of the others, that they would not let Bevelek die. That seemed nonsense because he was already dead, but she said no. She had access to a spell that would channel holy energy to restore life, but it required materials we would not be able to obtain until we again reached a town. She had already cast a spell on him to preserve his body, since a town was likely still days away. She had but one question – would Bevelek want to return?
I knew all the letters he had sent home, and I know his love of life. I know he loves all of you. I was certain he would want to return if given the choice. And then I had one question for her: Grotus would restore life? She assured me he would.
And so it was that just a couple of days ago, while here in the Tian Xia city of Ordu-Arcanhei, while guests of the ruler of the city (I’ll let Bevelek tell you that story) we hauled him out and in a surprisingly simple ceremony, revived him. He was weak, and wan, and looked like death warmed .. ah, well, anyway he has spent some time recovering. The materials needed to perform this ceremony were not inconsequential, but the rest of the party pooled their gold to do it and refused to accept anything from me. They said it was the least they could do, but from my point of view it pretty much has to be the most anyone has done or ever will do.
Bevelek does not know I sent this letter as he felt that you should never know he had been in danger, and we should simply keep it to ourselves. He made me rip up my first attempt. But that seemed wrong to me and by now his letters have probably already communicated a sense of danger. I felt you should know that Bevelek had given the ultimate sacrifice … and had it handed back to him. It’s too remarkable not to tell.
I do not know when we will return now, but if we turned around at this very instant and started back, it would be measured in months. And I don’t see us doing that. We feel strongly bound to this party and whatever fate has in store for them.
I have sent along some things. I hope you will find them both valuable and meaningful.
Vankor
—-
It was Roxanda’s mother who recovered first this time, reaching hastily for the package. Opening it, she discovered a small box, inside of which were 200-300 gold coins of Tian design. They were intermingled with a modest amount of small to medium sized gems. A note inside said
Dalmuvians – Vankor does not know I intercepted his package
and you can feel free to tattle on me when we return. He provided
the gold coins and the other, but I have added a little “hazard pay”
in gratitude for both the brothers’ bravery.
– Sandru
Examining the gems, Tobar gasped. “There’s somewhere between 750 and 1000 gp of gems in here,” he exclaimed. Lastly, he pulled out a cloth wrapped around something about half the size of his hand. Unwrapping it carefully revealed four very white dragon scales. On one was laboriously etched “Real”. On the second, “Frikken”. The third had: “Dragon!”.
And the last had a recognizable holy symbol of Grotus etched on it.
