Arodus 15, 4712 (Ravenscraeg, early morning)

We spent the night holed up in one of the storage rooms. Or rather, in the extra-dimensional space created by destroying the eggshells. It was awkward setting them off among the shelves of wool, cloaks, and furs, but they only last a couple of hours each and we had to make do without being seen. That meant using an unlikely hiding place. I am told the guards here did at least think to look in the closet in the middle of the night, but it was apparently not an exhaustive search as the watches were otherwise uneventful. Either that, or they figured we’ll come out eventually so why bother? I am betting on the latter.

I was hoping our clandestine raid would stay clandestine a little longer than it did, but it seems our luck ran out rather quickly. At least we made it up the cliffs and inside undetected: that part of the plan went pretty well. What frustrates me is that we spent all that time preparing to get here, and none for what we would encounter once we arrived. I mean, it should have been obvious that we’d go up against poisoned weapons given how many of the damned things have been tossed around by these people—including the one the night before last—and yet here we are without a single defense against it, magical or mundane. Olmas nearly died because of it. This overnight stay will fix that, but the ultimate consequence of it is that we have lost whatever momentum we had. These people probably have a pretty good idea of what we are capable of, and now we have given them the time to prepare. It’s going to be a hard day.

I had a difficult time sleeping so I spent more time going over Snorri Stone-Eye’s diaries. He was known for his tremendously successful raids on settlements and colonies throughout the Steaming Sea, including within rival Linnorm Kingdoms and the occasional visit to northern Varisia, but it was the brutality of the same which would earn him the nickname “The Mad Reaver”. This proved to be somewhat prophetic in a different sense, as over the last several years he grew more and more obsessed with predictions of the end times. He wrote of a final battle between the gods and the freeing of Rovagug which would result in the ravaging of the world. His later entries are not so much diaries as they are the ravings of a madman in the grips of paranoia.

The gradual shift from rationality to mania happened slowly but it is clearly visible when read in one sitting. He really did believe his false eye turned him into some sort of seer with visions of the future. His last journey, the one where he apparently contracted his illness, was to a cluster of unnamed islands in the Steaming Sea. He was searching for something—he doesn’t say what—that would protect his fortress during the coming war, and that is where the diary ends.

I am not sympathetic to what happened to him. He was a thug who lined his pockets, and those of his backers, with coin and treasure taken from those slain by his own hand. Their only crimes were existing and possessing items of value. The man was a vile lunatic, and before that, just vile. He earned his fate.

(Ravenscraeg, mid morning)

They were waiting for us in the balcony when we emerged from the storage room and ambushed us as we made our way towards the tower. It goes without saying that they are good at hiding in the shadows, but amazingly we walked past two of them without even knowing they were there. Not one of us spotted them. It’s unsettling.

Did they know where we were? Or did they just guess that we were hiding somewhere on the upper levels? I suppose it would have been fairly easy to work out a likely where and when. They know where we had been and where we hadn’t, and probably worked out how we got in. We need so much rest, enough time to prepare spells, and so on. What this suggests is that we are easily predicted.

As impressive as the ambush was, the fight did not last long. As usual, it was brute force and magic, particularly healing, that made the difference. Few can stand up to Radella, Ana, Sparna, and Olmas face-to-face, and when Qatana, Etayne, or Ivan can tend to their injuries they are just short of implacable. When our adversaries called for reinforcements, I added to our own numbers by summoning a leopard from the Celestial realms. You would not think one large cat would have an impact but they are fearsome animals when they have the room to move. They charge their foe, leap onto them and attack with their teeth and all of their claws, all at once. It did this twice, and both victims fell in an instant.

I left a paper flower on one of the bodies, with a blessing to Shelyn and a message to those who would find it: it is not too late to abandon this place and this path. Life is a precious gift, and it should not be squandered by visiting hate and misery upon others.

Look, I am not naive. The main level appears to be mostly barracks and guard rooms, and the Tian ninjas had erected a shrine of sorts in theirs; a shrine to Yaezhing, the Minister of Blood, god of harsh justice, murder, and punishment. His followers are not going to suddenly grow a conscience. But I am compelled to reach out.

(Ravenscraeg, late morning)

A couple of days ago we had this discussion about whether or not the Rimerunners Guild was a legitimate business or just a front for the Frozen Shadows. Obviously, the guild has been around for far longer so they didn’t start out that way, but what about now? Could we consider the two organizations to be one in the same today?

It seems we can more or less put that question to rest. Meet Lute Haggersly: Ulfen merchant, elected member of the Rimerunners Guild board of shareholders, and prisoner of the Frozen Shadows. If Lute is to be believed—and again if this is some sort of ruse it is ridiculously elaborate—he committed the offense of refusing to support one of Silverskorr’s motions or proposals before the Board. When he would not be swayed by her arguments, she turned to bullying and threats. When he failed to acquiesce, she followed through by imprisoning him here. I am not an expert on the inner workings of either publicly held companies or criminal organizations, but I will venture a guess that most of the former do not routinely imprison dissenters and most of the latter do not outsource their governance. The rank and file of the guild may not realize it, but it is clear that they are now little more than a veneer of legitimacy over, and a source of funding for, something much uglier.

If that weren’t enough, he offered a rather jaw-dropping piece of news: this organization seems to be run by a purple ogre—purple—and he insists that the ogre is, in fact, Silverskorr. It sounded ridiculous at the time and his evidence was thin, based solely on having heard Silverskorr’s voice right before seeing the ogre enter his cell to taunt and threaten him, but then we stopped to think about it. Ogre mages have a place in Avistani legends, and in those stories they don’t seem to have a set description or appearance. Each story seems to describe them differently. Maybe there’s a reason for that, and purple skin would very much fit in with it.

And what about the oni? Maybe, like Kikonu, an ogre mage is a kind of oni, much like there are many forms of devils and demons. Kikonu could change his appearance and become almost human. Would it be so hard to believe that Silverskorr can change her shape, too? Assume the form of a human woman? And why stop there? If the ogre mage can change it’s shape, then maybe this isn’t even the “real” Silverskorr. Maybe the Silverskorr everyone knows is an imposter.

I know how this is starting to sound, but that is the thing about shapeshifters: they breed paranoia. You can’t trust what you see and hear.

We asked for Helgarval’s opinion and he had little to offer except to say that we have our work cut out for us. Thanks, but we had worked that out on our own. He then followed up with, and I am paraphrasing here, “I’m confident you’ll be victorious. And if you aren’t, then I’ll find another group.” Great. Thanks for that, too.

This room we are in is a prodigiously stocked alchemy lab. Etayne is the real expert here, of course, but I had enough instruction while in school to understand what I am seeing. I have no doubt that I could find just about any item I needed for casting a spell or brewing a potion, provided it wasn’t particularly rare or valuable. On top of that are all the flasks, vials, beakers, and other alchemical equipment one would need for creating infusions, brews, and, yes, toxins. According to Etayne, the plants here are all poisonous in some form, covering just about every plant-based poison known to man.

Etayne is searching through some lab notes, and it appears that all of this is Runecaster’s personal work and research space. This goes a long way towards explaining the glass box near the center of the room. The less said about that wasp-infested corpse the better. We watched it beat (ineffectually, thankfully) on the glass as it called out to us in what sounded like infernal. Etayne says he bought the wasps off of a Chelish wizard. What a surprise, right?

Gods. These people.

Arodus 14, 4712 (dawn, Kalsgard)

We camped last night at the caravan. This just seemed like a wise idea given what had happened at the inn. Of course I did not expect this to fool anyone, but the point was not to hide: it was to keep together as a group for our collective safety. Ameiko has, wisely, been sleeping in the covered wagon in order to stay out of sight. While not exactly spacious, there is room in there for as many as three to lay down comfortably so she and I have been sharing the space.

Given how much closer we’ve grown over the past couple of weeks—it almost feels like it did when we were growing up—you’d think we’d be awake until some ridiculous hour talking, but nothing could be farther from the truth. In all honesty, I am a lousy roommate and have been for some weeks. I am exhausted most evenings, and what time I do have before falling sleep is spent on research, study, or (like last night) copying spells from scrolls. Fortunately, she’s also been buried in books and maps on Tian-Xia and Minkai, and she knows we’re extending ourselves—overextending, really—for her, but it still feels like I am ignoring her.

In case we needed a reminder of what we have gotten into, one arrived last night around two o’clock in the morning, just as our watch was changing. Both Ameiko and I would have slept through it had Sparna not awoken us. Someone sent an arrow laced with poison into the side of the wagon where we were sleeping. We were lucky that it hit the frame instead of piercing the canvas. Or perhaps they were intending to send a message rather than trying to hit one of us (though that would not make a lot of sense). Whatever the reason, they spent a small fortune on the delivery. Etayne said it was coated with deathblade, a poison which is notorious for both it’s lethality and it’s expense. This admonition cost them nearly two thousand gold.

Admonition? Attached to it was a note, written in Tien.

It was foolish of you to wake a sleeping dragon. Return what was stolen. Abandon your hopeless quest now or you and your friends will be destroyed.

Ameiko looked lost in thought, staring blankly into the darkness after reading the note for herself. This was her life, her family, and her heritage so it seemed appropriate, if not prudent, to ask her opinion.

“I didn’t expect this journey to go unopposed. This is…grim, but not unexpected.”

These Frozen Shadows? We have rattled them. Yes, they started big that night at the Skalsbridge, but now they’ve been reduced to paying blind beggars to deliver spooky messages in alleyways, and sending warnings attached to arrows coated with exotic poison, all to convince us how scary and powerful they are. Because we have gotten close to them; hit them somewhere very personal. They are trying to bully us because they don’t know what else to do.

I dealt with bullies for much of my life, and they are all the same. They talk a lot, they intimidate and posture, they threaten, and occasionally they bloody your nose. But mostly? They posture and threaten. It’s how they make themselves feel better, and how they build their power base, convincing those around them how terrible and frightening they are. But really, they are just insecure and scared.

The people you really have to worry about? They don’t send messages. They don’t warn you in the middle of the night. They don’t play the game of appearances. They simply act, and that’s precisely how we’ll respond to this affront.

I spent some time this morning drafting a short letter to mom and dad. I promised them I would write, and that I would not hide the truth from them when I did. This has been far more difficult than I imagined. Over a decade of experience-turned-instinct screams at me to not say anything about what has happened in the past week, or what we are about to do, because no good ever came of it when I was a child. Things were better when they didn’t know.

Mom and grandma fought a lot back in those days (dad’s relationship with dadi and dada has never been strained to my knowledge, for whatever that is worth). They’d probably fight even more now if they saw each other as often as they did when I was growing up. It was years before I finally understood why, but now I know that, deep down, grandma does not approve of how mom chose to live her life. She wanted mom to be the scholar, the noble, the aristocrat, the what-have-you in the gilded city of her birth. Mom threw away a life that had been carefully crafted for her along with her savings to, of all things, work. And touch the world with her own hands. The horror.

Maybe part of my fear about sending this letter is that mom (and dad) won’t approve of my life. That I, too, am throwing away everything that was carefully laid out for me, only I am upping the ante by making the risk to my life a literal one. I am worried I am destined to quarrel with my mom the way she does with hers. I’ve seen my parents twice since this all began, and the first of those led to an ugly fight over concerns about the exact sort of thing that is happening right now. It does not bode well. But I promised I would tell them, and for better or for worse I will see it through.

(noon, Thanelands, south of Kalsgard)

The road we are following isn’t so much of a road at this point as it is a lightly-traveled dirt path. Wagon tracks and hoof prints are our guides.

It was here, about half way to Ravenscraeg where the path ran through a bog, that we apparently missed a turn. As we passed one of the stagnant ponds, a pair of slimy pseudopods shot out at us from the water’s edge and struck at Etayne and Ivan on their horses.

This skirmish would have been unremarkable except for what it was that we were fighting: giant, amorphous blobs, yellow-brown in color, that oozed and flowed as they advanced, and burned flesh like acid. Attempts to harm them with edged and pointed weapons merely split them in two, each half functioning as an independent, albeit smaller, blob.

According to Etayne they are called ochre jellies, a name that is as literal and descriptive as it is unoriginal.

The bog seems an appropriate home for them. Bogs are stagnant wetlands, with pools filled by rainfall over peat-layered soil. Very little grows in them save for the trees, moss, and fungus. Like a swamp, only without a source of running water. And in contrast to a marsh, which is a swamp only with grass instead of trees.

Bogs, marshes, swamps. We’ve spent far too much time in wetlands.

We have another five or six hours ahead of us.

(evening, Thanelands, Near the Grungir Forest)

The crags from which Ravenscraeg gets its name are a line of cliffs among the rocky hills that form the border between the southern edge of the Thanelands and the Grungir Forest beyond. The hills, and the sheared northern faces of the crags, rise and fall along their length. We can see the small fortress nestled in a fissure where two neighboring cliffs meet, sitting slightly lower than the surrounding rock but still a good hundred-plus feet straight up. A series of wooden stairs form switchbacks with landings, climbing to meet what we assume is the main entrance.

We are not going that way because we are not idiots. Half of our cache of scrolls, purchased yesterday evening in Kalsgard, will allow us to literally walk up the vertical rocks as easily as spiders climbs walls and walk on ceilings. We’ll have thirty minutes to make the ascent to one of the neighboring cliffs and then drop down into the dell which Nihali tells us lays just behind the structure. This is more than enough time, even with delays. We’ll go after dark, when the quarter moon has disappeared behind the ridge to the south west, because we also don’t want to be seen. This is where the second half of our cache of scrolls comes into play: the spells on them will allow us to see in the dark.

One more thing. Nihali also said the hills and trees behind them are filled with ravens and crows. Hundreds upon hundreds of them. Dozens of them are roosting on the fortress’s tower.

If there was any question before about this being the right place, there isn’t any longer.

(night, Ravenscraeg)

We made it inside an upper-level window of sorts without being detected. This late at night the great hall we found ourselves in was unoccupied, and we were able to slowly and quietly work our way around. Right now, I am sitting in one of the store rooms, hurriedly taking notes as the others explore.

This store room contains an enormous quantity of raw wool, furs, cloaks, and other cold weather clothing. Tucked away in a chest among them was a stack of scrolls written in Skald. Sparna looked them over briefly and said they appeared to be diaries. He was about to put them away when I stopped him.

“Can I see those?”

“Why? They’re diaries.”

“This place was once owned by Snorri Stone-Eye. They may be important.”

“We don’t have time for this right now.”

I hate these arguments. I understand that there is a time and a place for research, and that the middle of a break-in is generally neither, but they may have information we need about where we are at this moment. Thankfully, Sparna relented on the condition that they continue to explore while I stay here and read.

Fine. Whatever. Just go.

It turns out I was right. Snorri stashed something of value—something that would help protect him “against the coming winter” (had he lived)—in one of the upstairs flues. Now we know to look for it.

This is the abridged version of Snorri Stone-Eye’s final years: He believed his stone eye gave him the sight to see the past and future (it’s a magical stone, all right, but all it really does is protect the possessor from the physical effects of aging, though it doesn’t protect them from aging itself). He became obsessed with prophecies of the end of the world, and he believed that “in the winter of the world, the gods will come down to fight, and the rough beast will be released”. These prophecies of the end times and Rovagug were enough to push him over the edge from sanity, and he was already close to the edge as it was. The diaries end with his last voyage across the sea to find an artifact that would help him survive the end of the world. What he found instead, as we learned from personal experience, was an affliction that would slowly turn him into a draugr.

(midnight, Ravenscraeg)

I don’t have much time because we’ve been discovered. We fought with and killed a lycanthrope in his quarters, but not before he shouted an alarm that has alerted everyone here to our presence.

Two raven swarms descended on us as we headed back to the great hall but we quickly dispersed them. I summoned three, small air elementals and sent them up to the roof to scatter the rest of the birds but I was not specific about how to get there, and they (logically, I suppose) chose the stairs to the tower. That’s when we heard a huge ruckus on the floor above us. It turned out that the air elementals were not terribly discriminating about what constituted a “raven”: they were harassing six tengu guards when we came up the stairs.

The tengu were tough and well-trained. Olmas nearly died from a poison dart; deathblade again. Each of them carried it. One nearly struck me.

We found what we believe to be the nest for the bloodfeather raven. I don’t know if it will come back here, but just in case it does we left a nasty surprise for it: one of the deathblade-coated darts, hidden in the nest with the point sticking out. It’s a long shot, but it would be poetic justice.

Arodus 12, 4712 (evening)

This is the second time in my life that I’ve watched someone destroy a shrine to Shelyn.

I was barely 12 years old when the Cathedral in Sandpoint burned to the ground. My bedroom faced the cluster of chapels and I remember being woken in the middle of the night by the glow of the flames and shadows flickering on the walls. I just sat there in bed, paralyzed with equal parts fascination and fear, watching as the fire spread and engulfed the entire complex. It was maybe a hundred feet away, but I could feel the heat of it through the open window. Then dad burst into my room and pulled me out.

The rest is a jumble of memories, but I do recall quite vividly the stables catching fire, followed by the White Deer. The flames encircled the homes along our block, raining hot embers into the sea as it spread. Dad said it was pure luck that so few buildings burned (and that our house was one of those spared), though I supposed those more directly impacted, like Ana, would have a different opinion.

At the time, the entire town thought it some terrible accident. Years later we learned the truth, and it was far uglier than most could imagine. Nualia was consumed by hatred. Hatred for a father that presumed to choose her life for her, and believed that years of emotional abuse somehow qualified as parenting. Hatred for a town that simultaneously deified and vilified her (I still remember the words she spoke to me on the cliffs that evening). Hatred for a lover that abandoned her. Hatred for even her celestial ancestry. That sort of hate does terrible things to a person, and it was a crack that Lamashtu exploited. Nualia was far from blameless, of course. It’s just that all this history made Lamashtu’s job easier.

You can at least look at that fire—at Father Tobyn’s murder, for that’s what it really was about—and trace it back to her anger, no matter how distorted or misguided her thinking had become. This business in Kalsgard, though, was just a callous decision of convenience. What was the best way to slow us down, and preoccupy Uksahkka’s protectors? Destroy the shrine that sheltered her, of course. What a fine distraction.

It was also very personal. A child of twelve isn’t a devote follower of anyone (and regardless, back then I was still struggling with the teachings of Irori); today was much different. This really hurt.

Two enormous earth elementals stood in the rubble and were pounding on what remained of the temple. I didn’t even stop to think: I just acted. Before the others could move¹, I had conjured a sphere of water ten feet across and engulfed the nearest of the two. While my friends moved in to attack the second, I rolled the ball with it’s prize out into the street and as far away from the shrine as the spell would allow.

I heard a strange bird call and saw the remaining earth elemental turn its attention to us, abandoning its demolition. Radella pointed out that the large raven with the red feathers was there, and that it dissolved into smoke before her eyes (but not before she put an arrow into it). Etayne and I exchanged a silent conversation, and then we both said “druid” at the same time.

Soon after, I saw the priest, Lin-Po, lying in the street, unconscious. I summoned a lantern archon to assist, first to aid him, and then to help us with the fight. These earth elementals were big, much bigger than what I could summon with my relatively-meager spells, and the one that engaged us absorbed tremendous punishment while dealing out the same. It took nearly all of us to bring it down. A thought occurred to me then: What if I hadn’t been able to stop the first one? What if we had to fight both at the same time? It makes me shudder thinking about it, but fortunately we didn’t have to find out.

We barely had to do anything with the second. The summons that was keeping it here expired shortly after my own spell did. Good enough. The point was to save Yin-Po and what was left of Shelyn’s shrine, not to have some epic battle to the death in the streets of Kalsgard. Besides, none of us wanted to be here long enough to face questions from the city guard. Yes, everyone in this city seems to walk around armed to the teeth (even the foreigners), and there were plenty of witnesses that could establish that we were helping, but after last night’s mischief I was not excited by the prospect of city officials probing into our affairs.

I guess I wasn’t shocked when Uksahkka turned up missing. Remember that part about destroying Shelyn’s shrine as a convenient distraction? The door to the cellar that served as her safe house had been forced open. Inside, Radella found a dart laced with poison and a black feather much like the ones we saw all over Brinewall. Much like the ones from Kikonu. We had a brief exchange about this with Yin-Po and he suggested we may be dealing with something called a Yamabushi Tengu. They are a type of Oni; apparently the Tian demons take many forms, much as they do here. What that told me was that we have some research to do. All we’re missing is the time to do it.

I guess we hadn’t experienced enough surprises for one day, because the helmet we looted from the funeral ship chose that moment to reveal it’s true nature to us: an angel named Helgarval, in the form of a winged helmet, because, sure, why not? He described himself as a servant of Desna, sent here as a familiar for a master that has long since passed on. Stuck on the material plane with no way to go home, he was simply “doing good where he can”.

It’s not often that surprises go our way, so this one was a welcome change. He had snuck on to Snorri Stone-Eye’s funeral ship as part of his own investigation into something called the Frozen Shadows, a criminal organization that has been gradually infiltrating Kalsgard over the last few years. Apparently they have a reputation for carrying out almost supernatural assassinations—which to me just says that they use magic to get away with it, and are good at telling stories—and the late Snorri was up to his stone eye with them. And the Rimerunners Guild? They are almost certainly a front. A well-connected front, with ties possibly as high as the Linnorm King for the Thanelands. Which is more or less a hint that we should be careful.

I’ll be honest here: I almost wasn’t.

Qatana and I loitered just up the block from the Rimerunners Guild building, located in the Jade Quarter along the riverfront, as Radella and Ivan broke in under the cover of invisibility. It was a long, long wait, and I kept thinking of ideas that could help distract the guards inside should something go awry. The longer I waited, the more aggressive my planning became, morphing from a distraction in case of trouble to just a way to wreck part of the building for good measure. At the top of the list was earth elementals since that seemed like poetic justice. Though mine would be considerably smaller and weaker than what we faced earlier, two or three of them could still make fast work of the masonry. Another idea was letting air elementals inside to play whirlwind, just to mess up the place. And the list went on.

See what I mean? I was letting what happened at Shelyn’s temple get the better of me, and the waiting and doing nothing was not helping.

Then Uksahkka emerged from the rear entrance and I came to my senses. As we suspected, she had been shot with a poison dart to render her unconscious and then kidnapped. She woke up shackled in chains in a locked room in the Rimmerunners Guild. Ivan and Radella had tended to her and engineered her escape without being detected, which is part of why their little foray was taking so long. I had Nihali send word to the others that we would be delayed. (As it turns out, they were dealing with their own problems: someone had implicated us in the poisoning death of a hunting dog, and that led to a very drunken confrontation with the dog’s owner in the pub where they were waiting for us. I got the short version of that story, and it was enough to convince me that the less I know about it, the better.)

Some time later, Radella and Ivan made their exit and in their hands was an impossible prize: the complete contents of the Rimerunners Guild’s secret vault. All of it liberated without raising a single guard’s suspicion that anyone had even entered the building, much less spent an hour inside looting it. I was, and still am, stunned. I’ll admit that the bouillon is nice (I like to think of it as partial compensation for the grief these people have caused us) but the real treasure was a ledger and other business documents detailing a number of sketchy affairs. Combined with what Uksahkka overheard while being prisoner, Helgarval’s own investigations, and what we have learned ourselves, we were able to form a fairly complete picture of the Frozen Shadows’ dealings in and around Kalsgard, as well as confirm most of our suspicions.

We are now looking for a place named Ravenscrag. It’s a castle or keep of some sort, purchased from Snorri Stone-Eye three years ago, presumably while he was still living. The ledger details very large sums of money being transferred to Ravenscrag on an ongoing basis, marked as “development expenses”. Kelda volunteered to discreetly dig around for information on Ravenscrag (we warned her to be careful, though I think she has figured that out already) which should help since she knows the city and we don’t.

I am tired. It took hours to comb through those documents, even with Radella’s help. But I am writing because I can’t sleep. My thoughts keep returning to the shrine today. Was there something we could have done to prevent it?

I think there was. We deliberately took time to rest. We could have gone there directly after leaving the ship but we were tired. Very, very tired. I understand the argument, and I didn’t disagree with it, but still…would that attack have happened if we had been there hours earlier? Even minutes earlier?

Part of me says that it wouldn’t have made a difference. Maybe they didn’t know where Uksahkka was and they were following us (though that wouldn’t make me feel any better, as it would mean that we led them to her). Maybe they were going to raid the shrine anyway, and we just happened to have good timing (though not good enough). Or maybe they were just keeping an eye on her, and were forced to move because we did.

Those are all logical arguments, but they may also just be rationalizations. It’s hard to shake the feeling that we screwed up here.

Arodus 13, 4712 (evening)

No one tried to kill us today.

The morning did not start particularly well. On our first full day in Kalsgard, Etayne spent most of her time in the Bone Quarter, keeping an eye on the caravan while also providing her services to the community. One of the people she befriended was a young Tian boy who she eventually learned was paid to spy on us. She offered him some money to try to find out who it was that was doing the asking, but he never returned. I made an offhand remark that night that our clumsy probing around had probably gotten him killed.

It turns out I was prescient. His body was found lying in the street by the river in the Jade Quarter, just after sunrise. Someone had cut his throat.

On a lighter note, Kelda returned with some solid information on Ravenscrag. It is located in the cliffs bordering the Grungir Forest, a days ride south of Kalsgard. It’s named Ravenscrag because “only the ravens and crazy people can get to it”. I suggested we head there for some surveillance by air—specifically, by raven, which seemed apropos—but we all agreed to take a day to prepare first. We’ve been going too long without any breaks.

This meant I got to spend some time with Ameiko, which we hadn’t had much of together since Losthome. We borrowed Radella’s ring so she could move about the city without being an obvious target (which was weird because it was almost like sharing intimate details of your life with a complete stranger) and spent the day shopping with Koya for everything from art paper to clothing to some magic gear. Clothes shopping with Koya is a whole experience. Just ask Ivan.

We made three stops on the way back. The first was at a wizard academy so I could pick up a new spell we might need. The second was at what remained of the Shrine of Shelyn where the rebuilding effort was already underway. Yin-Po was pleased to hear that we had found Uksahkka more or less unharmed and freed her from her captors, but less so to learn that the Rimerunners Guild was where she was being held. I suggested he not make this detail known.

The third stop was at the inn where we were supposedly still staying, despite having spent the last two nights with the caravan. I should have quit while we were ahead. Despite the lousy start, the day was actually going quite well but I ruined it by insisting that we check on the rooms. To make sure the innkeeper hadn’t, say, assumed we had abandoned them and decided to sell off our stuff. Sometime in the last 24 hours, an estimation based on when the rooms were last cleaned, intruders had forced their way in to each one of them and searched them front to back, leaving a huge mess in their wake. Fortunately, none of us were stupid enough to leave anything valuable in them so it was basically just our clothes that got tossed, but still. It soured my mood.

With the money raised by liquidating Snorri’s funerary treasure, I and three others were able to purchase rings that magically sustain their wearers with only minimal sleep, and without the need for food. It will take a week for them to attune, but once they do they will be a boon for our pending trip over the Crown by reducing the number of provisions we’ll need to take with us. I am also learning to craft magic items of my own, and this will allow me to work at night, essentially giving me more hours in the day.

Speaking of food, even with the rings we were still short of our goal. Then Ivan suggested “Why not have multiple cooks?”

It was such an obvious idea that I can’t believe I had overlooked it.

 

---

¹This is Kali spending a Hero Point.^↵

Arodus 12 (small hours, Kalsgard)

It has been a long night and I do not see an end to it any time soon. In a few hours we meet Uksahkka at Spear-shaker’s Point for, of all things, kayak lessons (and in the dark, I might add). Dad would be proud. Or, perhaps instead, he’d lecture me for resisting his attempts to teach me anything involving paddles or sails years ago (as much as I enjoyed being a passenger on boats and ships of all sizes, I never had any interest in piloting them). He even told me once that “One day you will regret not having learned”. And here we are.

The definition of adulthood is realizing your parents were right about everything.

Suishen was not at Asvig’s farmhouse, and any hope of this coming to a quick conclusion has evaporated. Our only lead now is that it may be sitting on Snorri Stone-Eye’s funeral ship, scheduled to burn during his wake at dawn. I missed the interrogation of Helva and Asvig—I was more concerned with who had escaped from the hall at the time—but Helva suggested this possibility to us.

Snorri was Asvig’s Lord, or ring-giver as they are called here, and Snorri was even more closely tied to some shady dealings and this Rimerunners guild than Asvig, himself. Asvig, it seems, was just the go-to man for anything needing done that was not strictly legal (or even remotely so in some cases, I suspect) so that others would not be directly involved. Putting that sword on his lord’s funeral ship in tribute would accomplish two things at once: getting rid of it for good, and honoring the late Snorri, himself.

Except for the part where it just doesn’t make any sense.

Neither does the idea that Ulf might be imprisoned on that ship, too. At first it seemed like a real possibility, but now that I have had time to think on it, what would be the point? Asvig didn’t seem the type to play stupid games like this, especially when simply killing the man on the spot would get the job done and with a great deal more certainty. And just how hard would it be to make a body disappear in the Thanelands? We sent forty men to the bottom of the river with barely a trace, and we’ve had less practice at it. Asvig may have been a lot of things, but nothing we’ve seen suggested that he was incompetent or a fool. His only mistake seems to have been underestimating us, and to be fair, even then he was working on no information save for the fact that we existed.

So I am skeptical that we will find anything on this funeral ship save for Snorri Stone-Eye’s corpse, but it’s the only lead we have. Especially since Ulf wasn’t at Asvig’s farm, either—not that we knew to look for him at the time, but it was obvious there were no prisoners being held there—which just puts a capstone on this perfect day.

And the raid had started so well. With the death celebration (who are these people?) well under way we probably could have set the yard on fire without being spotted, so we had plenty of time to do this right. At the posts that surrounded the house, several of us put our heads together and reconstructed the rune that bypassed the summoning trap, then we quietly moved to the rear entrance and got into position.

That’s when we heard the muffled protests of one or two women, and the much louder, drunker, lecherous advances of some of the party-goers, through the door. Etayne, Radella, Qatana…they all tried to rush that door at the same time (I wanted to be right there with them, too) and within seconds we had burst through it and pounded the three accosters. They didn’t even have time to cry for help. Or beg for their lives.

After checking on the startled and frightened serving girls, we asked them about the layout of the house and where we would find Asvig. One of them actually asked us, “Are we being raided?” her eyes going wide with panic. No, dear, it’s not a raid. We’re just here to kill everyone. Gods.

There were over a dozen of Asvig’s henchmen in the main hall, and the battle there was short but bloody. We had timed this right, though, and benefited both from the chaos spread by our spells and their half-drunken stupor. Ivan and I threw back-to-back confusion into the room with a cloud of fog and a burst of glittering dust, and then our fighters charged in and did what they do. A few seconds later, I could hear the faint sounds of doors opening in the back of the hall where startled revelers were either escaping or trying to circle around behind us to counter attack. I summoned a wolf—the choice seemed appropriate for the setting—just outside the back entrance and he took off running almost immediately.

I took that as a cue that it was time to shut the door. And bar it.

In the main hall, it sounded like Sparna and Qatana had subdued the Longthews and forced an end to the fight, so I ran to the far end under the cover of invisibility—I hadn’t been seen yet and felt it was best that this remain the case—to look out the front door for any sign of the fugitives. That’s when I heard the sounds of lions roaring, and the screams of more men outside. So a few had gotten away, or at least tried to. I called for Olmas in Elvish, and used a spell and the pearl to conjure two horses for us to ride.

“We need to find anyone who escaped, and make sure they don’t reach the others who are approaching from down the road,” I said as he came up to the doorway.

After the initial confusion of holding a conversation with an invisible Vudrani woman speaking in Elvish from behind a horse that wasn’t there when we arrived finally wore off, Olmas mounted up and we rode around back to look for survivors. This was a bad idea. The survivors were two very angry lions, and they were staring right at us.

“Let’s go!” I called to Olmas, and quickly turned my mount around and fled to the front of the house. Olmas got the message and was right behind me. The lions, of course, bounded after us.

“Between the posts on the road, where we etched the rune!” I didn’t wait for his response, I just took my horse to a full run and bolted through. Fortunately, he had gotten the message..

The lions stopped just a few feet beyond the perimeter. I was hoping for that, but what if it hadn’t worked out? Olmas had the same thought and asked me what my backup plan had been. “To continue down the road and run them into the approaching party. And let them deal with the lions.”

Sometimes I have good ideas. I was almost disappointed that we didn’t get to try it out. Almost.

Nihali came to me then. I asked if she had seen anyone escape from the house. She had, “But they were mauled by leopards.” Leopards? That’s when I noticed something odd about the lions prowling around the wooden posts: they had spots. That explained why the lion figures on the armbands, and on the ones on the wooden posts, and even the summoned lions themselves didn’t look so much like lions; that isn’t quite what they were. (Note to self: ask Etayne about this later.)

If anyone made it off the property they didn’t go down the main path or stay on it. We rode a bit, just off to the side in the grass where our horses’ hooves weren’t as loud, until we were almost too close to the approaching group to safely stay out of sight. Not having found anyone, we headed back to the house—the lions or leopards or whatever they were had now vanished—and ran into our friends on their way out.

Hiding from the approaching revelers was easy as they were already drunk or well on their way to it. From the bits of conversation that we could hear they were going for the free food and spirits, not because they had any love for Snorri Stone-Eye. They were in for a number of surprises, not the least of which was the recent change in management.

Apparently, Asvig died while being questioned, suddenly and spontaneously, by choking on his own blood. It gives me the shivers just thinking about it. Etayne and Qatana saw it happen and said it looked like some sort of geas, but not one that they had ever seen or heard of. Want proof that Asvig was mixed up with some very, very bad people? There it is.

Which is, I think, part of why Helva was willing to accept a detente. She knew Asvig was guilty. She knew Fynn had been wronged and that his claim of blood vengeance was valid. What she didn’t know was exactly deep the hole was. She didn’t have to like what happened to her husband, but we had exposed something very ugly about him that she hadn’t known and it certainly gave her pause. She clearly wanted to rebuild their little fiefdom with far fewer surprises; one where she would be making the decisions. More power to her, I guess. In a strange way, I am happy for her.

If she is true to her word, there will be no retributions against us or Fynn, on one condition: that we never come around these parts again. It sounds like a ridiculous cliche written out like that, but it really was her only demand. Fair enough. In due time we won’t even be on this continent. It won’t be a difficult promise to keep.

And for our part? We had made good on Fynn’s request as his proxies, gruesome as it was, but there was no sword (and no Ulf). At least I didn’t have to walk back to Kalsgard.

I won’t have to walk to Spear-shaker’s Point, either.

Arodus 12 (dawn, Rimeflow River)

Either we have been set up, or Uksahkka is being watched. Someone knew we would board that funeral ship before it lit, and they obviously wanted us to be on it as it burned.

Aside from Etayne’s kayak capsizing—Ling did not seem too thrilled with this development—getting over to and onto the ship was relatively easy. It was getting off shore that proved more interesting: we had just gotten our gear packed up when an enormous crab came looking for its next meal. It took us all by surprise, but we recovered quickly and brought it down. Afterwards, I believe Qatana actually suggested that we cook it and have it for dinner. She was being completely serious.

We intercepted the ship just as it drifted past Spear-shaker’s Point and tied up our kayaks on both her port and starboard sides. The funeral ship itself was a longboat that had been converted into a barge. A deck had been built over the rowing benches, forming a cramped hold along the hull underneath. The funeral pyre and coals that served as a timer was up top. We threw the latter into the sea to prevent any accidents and then got to work.

It is no surprise that the raiders arrived within minutes of us. There was a narrow window in which we could pull this off, and there were only so many points along the river from which one could launch to reach the ship before the pyre was lit. That meant they knew where we would be and when, and the ninjas they sent after us only had to worry about being seen. Unfortunately for them, all that has happened today instilled a healthy dose of paranoia in the group so we had four pairs of eyes plus Nihali scanning the water for exactly this sort of interruption. Even in the foggy twilight, Olmas sighted the approaching canoes running 5 knots at 100 fathoms off the port stern. We had nearly a full minute to prepare for their arrival.

Down below, the other half of us had discovered that Snorri Stone-Eye had not died a peaceful death. His rotting, undead, and all-too-mobile corpse was chained up in the hold, smelling of decaying marine life. He had succumbed to some supernatural disease, perhaps a form of zombie rot or ghoul fever, and it seems his friends and family had gone to great lengths to keep this development a secret. On the funeral pyre, they maintained the illusion by covering a wooden manikin with a shroud.

What our friends didn’t find was any sign of Suishen or Ulf. Surprise. They emerged from the hold with the bad news just as the canoes were coming into range of spells and arrows.

We had two nasty surprises in place for the would-be boarders. The first was the downpour of rocks and dirt that had served me well just a few days earlier (it was all I had that could reach from this distance). The second was Nihali, who enthusiastically agreed to try dropping a vial of alchemist’s fire on one of the approaching vessels. Turns out, she has pretty good aim. I could feel her excitement as the boat caught fire.

Only one of the attackers made it to within arm’s reach of the ship, and that’s where he died.

While Suishen and Ulf weren’t on board, the morning was not a total loss. Snorri must have been well loved as he had a rather large pile of treasure to see him off to his afterlife.  We took a more practical viewpoint and figured he wouldn’t be needing it where he was going. We helped ourselves to a rather generous serving and stuffed it in the bag Sparna has been carrying. I estimated a haul of about 12,000 gold in coins, jewelry, and artwork on top of what they had already looted earlier.

I also learned something interesting about Ivan. Before Uksahkka left, she gave him a small clay token and said to present it at the shrine of Shelyn in the Fire Quarter when we were ready to make contact with her again. Naturally, the mention of my goddess caught my attention, and when I looked at the token I saw the unmistakable image of a songbird on one face.

“Ivan, would you mind if I held on to that?” I asked.

“Why?”

“Because it has a holy symbol on it. That songbird is the symbol of Shelyn.”

“You mean this?”

And he pulled back his tunic to reveal a tattoo of a songbird on his shoulder blade.

“I didn’t know what this meant.”

I think everyone was shocked, but none more so than I. We shared a kayak on the way out to the funeral ship, and I told him as much about her as I could in the time that we had.

One kayak over, I could hear Qatana doing the same with Olmas, only of course she was spreading the word of Groetus. She was really giving him the hard sell. It was all I could do to keep from laughing.

Arodus 8 (Night, Ullerskad)

We left the Skalsbridge behind us, a picturesque scene of tranquility belying the night’s events. Few traces remained of the dead men that littered the bottom of the Thundering River: scars along the riverbank where their boat came ashore, trampled grass and soil, the occasional boot print in the dirt. We covered up what we could, using both labor and magic, but there were too many of them and there was too little time to be thorough. If someone looked close enough they’d probably see the signs, but it was good enough for the casual eye. The last thing we needed was for some random travelers to spread the story of a terrible battle scene in the heart of the Thanelands. We have enough troubles as it is.

The raven flew off shortly before the attack began last night, and as far as we know it hasn’t returned since. This is fine by me. It implies that news of the failed ambush won’t travel much faster than we do. They, whoever they are, won’t know something is wrong until the Aril’s Hammer fails to put into port.

We are spending the night in Ullerskad, just a day and a half east of Kalsgard. It is a significant trading city for its size, and apparently the home to numerous wealthy merchants both still in business and retired. Mom and dad would feel at home here if it weren’t so gods-be-damned cold in the winter. Perhaps this is why our only trip to the Kingdoms, which happened when I was about 8 years old, was our only trip to the Kingdoms.

Arodus 9 (Noon, Ullerskad)

One of the notable landmarks in Ullerskad is the temple to Gorum. I have virtually nothing in common with the Lord in Iron, god of battle, but there is no denying the strength and ferocity his followers show on the battlefield, and there are times when these qualities are needed. And, it is said that Shelyn is on good terms with all of the major deities (except, perhaps, her brother, though that relationship is complicated) so it seemed appropriate to at least visit, even if only briefly.

I was not sure what to expect, of course, but I am sure I was not expecting what I saw. The temple itself—a large, gold-adorned building—stood next to a grove of trees, and from these trees hung the corpses of both animals and men. I asked an acolyte about their significance. He said, “The animals are sacrifices to Gorum. The men are enemies of Ullerskad who fell to our warriors in battle.”

At the center of the grove was a massive yew tree, the largest I have ever seen, it’s expansive branches covered in lush, green leaves. The acolyte added, “These leaves stay green all year long, even through the harshest winters. It is a very sacred place.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

Shalelu seemed less impressed. When asked for her opinion, she replied, “I have seen this kind of thing before.”

I couldn’t argue with that, either.

Sandru and I spent some time researching the Crown of the World. The real experts are in Kalsgard, but there are enough knowledgeable people here to give us a picture of what we are facing, and that picture is sobering. The trip is some 3,000 miles, with nearly half of that over what is called the High Ice. While no part of the journey across the Crown is for the faint of heart, it is the ice that is the most treacherous: 1,500 miles of frozen desert. One thousand, five hundred miles!

Caravans measure cargo capacity using an amalgamation of weight and girth, approximated and simplified to a standard measurement known as the cargo unit, or just unit for short. At our most efficient, we travel just shy of 50 miles in a day and consume six units of stores in every five. But that is with scouts working alongside us, supplementing our provisions with hunted game and food foraged off the land. We don’t know how realistic that will be on the high ice, and so I have to assume our consumption will increase by half. It simply can’t be done. The math doesn’t lie: we need more provisions than we have room to carry!

Even more troubling is the weather. It is called the High Ice because it is an arctic plateau. At that altitude, the temperatures rarely rise above dangerously cold in the summer and are much worse in winter. We have been advised to wait until next year to start our journey: the season for crossing the Crown begins in early spring and lasts only a few weeks. Leave during that window, and you are on the ice now while the conditions are at their best. We are simply three months too late (or nine months too early) to set out.

At least we will have plenty of time to find a solution to our looming food problem.

Arodus 10 (Night, Kalsgard)

We arrived in Kalsgard just as the sun was setting. The city is the largest in the Linnorm Kingdoms, and also its oldest. Its shipyards are well known throughout Avistan and have a reputation for producing some of the finest longships money can buy, almost certainly including the one sitting at the bottom of the river under the Skalsbridge. The city itself is divided into nine Quarters—a Quarter in this context meaning a district of a city and not a mathematical one-fourth of something—separated by walls that are more permeable than they appear. In contrast to the rest of the Thanelands, and pretty much all of the Linnorm Kingdoms save for the Grungir Forest, it’s also strikingly cosmopolitan with a richly diverse population. Though it’s been nearly 15 years since I was last here, it is the latter (and the shipyards) that I remember.

Kelda pointed us towards the Bone Quarter. It is the poorest district in the city but it also has the most open space, and that combination makes it an attractive place to put things that no one wants to see or deal with. Caravans, especially those from Varisia, very much fall into that category. That level of anonymity and disregard is fine with us. We are staying the night here tonight, but tomorrow some of us will find lodging in a nicer Quarter so that we can come and go without drawing unwanted attention to the caravan.

Speaking of Kelda, she has chosen to return home in the morning and won’t be continuing on with us. I am not surprised; she signed up originally to share the spoils from looting an abandoned colony, not to be an heir to a kingdom she has no connection to (not that we signed up for that, either, but we all have ties to Ameiko in some fashion). And after what has happened in just the past couple of weeks? I can’t say that I blame her.

I’ll miss having her with us, of course, but I won’t miss Etayne’s antics. So there is that to look forward to.

Arodus 11 (Mid-day, Kalsgard)

The day is barely half over and already it has been a huge mess. We are being followed, we are seeing flocks of crows everywhere we go, people are asking questions about us, and we are being harassed by street urchins paid in copper. It is unsettling and grows more so with each hour.

We secured rooms at an inn in the Amber Quarter and made arrangements to be able to call upon Kelda (and her upon us) if needed, and then split up to cover as much ground as we could. Only Ana and Etayne stayed behind, choosing to keep a close eye on the caravan in case anyone came nosing about.

Qatana and Shalelu went seeking information about the armbands. Koya wanted to explore Kalsgard and do some shopping for fabrics and other sundries, and since this represented an opportunity to look for the merchant Fynn Snaevald, Ivan and Spivey joined her both for protection and to make those inquiries. Radella and Sparna opted for the undercity, or whatever it is they called it, which was apparently accessible via tunnels along the docks. Sandru and I also set off to try and find Fynn, but coming at the problem from the other direction: the merchant guilds that may have traded with him. And, finally, Ameiko wished to learn what she could about her homeland and chose a visit the Jade Quarter, with Olmas serving as her escort. According to Kelda, the Jade Quarter is home to a rather large Tian population.

It was the latter that presented something of a problem. Ameiko does not always think things through. “Are you sure it’s wise to just wander around the city with people watching for us?” I asked her before she set out.

She chuckled. “What are you worried about? No one here knows who I am.”

“Someone arranged that ambush, and we’ve been followed by a giant raven for days. They may know quite a bit about us.”

“Well, what do you suggest?” she asked, clearly a little irritated with me. She was eager to explore the city, especially after having missed out on the action in Brinewall. There would be no talking her out of the idea, and to be honest, I wasn’t going to try and stop her, either. What she proposed actually made a great deal of sense. It’s just that we needed to be cautious about it.

“Why not borrow Radella’s ring? Then you won’t have to look like you.” With that she could alter her appearance essentially at will.

I occasionally have good ideas.

That little success was soon overshadowed by my attempt to get information from the Seven Lands Guild in the Ivory Quarter. Sandru was not happy with me. He’d never say it, of course—he’s too much of a gentleman—but I could tell. Though I looked my part and certainly knew enough about the business, I was not at all prepared for the game of pretending to be something I am not. Afterward, he gave me a quick summary of what I had done wrong.

“It’s not enough to know how to be a merchant. You have to know the part you are playing. They aren’t going to quiz you on your knowledge; they are going to ask questions about you, your business, and what you want from them. You need to anticipate those questions and have answers, and you need to engage with them confidently.

“Think about who you are, where you are from, what it is you need, why you need to speak to them, and what they can do for you. Also, try and relate that to what you really want to find out from them: in this case, how did you know Fynn, and why did it make sense for you to ask about him?

“Also, next time, don’t use your real name.”

So, just those issues, then.

Fortunately, the people in the Guild did not seem to be directly related to whoever has been keeping tabs on us, and being the exotic foreigner woman was sufficient distraction from my clumsiness. In the end, we got an offer to have some of their guards escort us to Fynn’s house. Of course, an escort is not what we needed (nor did we have a desire to meet with Fynn by ourselves), so instead we asked the guards for directions and left it at that.

On the way back to the inn, we noticed the crows. They were all over the city, of course, but while they were just scenery before, now they were flocking near us in numbers that seemed unusual. As the others straggled in over the next hour or two, they had similar observations: crows appearing in increasing numbers, lining up on rooftops to follow their progress across the city. I brought Nihali in and asked for her opinion.

“They are just crows,” she said. This was obviously not helpful.

“Are they being controlled, somehow? Is there anything unnatural about them?”

Her reply was immediate. “No. They are a normal flock of crows. The only thing that is unusual is that they are following you and your friends.” I asked her what she meant by a “flock”, and she elaborated, “Like any flock of birds. They are a social group. Nothing more.”

“Do they pay attention to you? Or make you nervous?”

“No. They ignore me.”

The crows were just the beginning. Radella and Sparna were on their way back to the inn when they happened to spot Koya in one of the markets (Koya dresses in colors so vivid she stands out even in Varisia), only she was being watched and followed by a young Tian boy. They managed to discreetly get word to Ivan and together they arranged a clever ambush to confront him. When cornered and questioned, he confessed that he had been paid to tail us, gather information about our activities, and leave his notes at a drop elsewhere in the city. He had descriptions of everyone, including Ameiko (though undisguised, so the ring would at least keep her identity safe). They followed him discreetly with hopes of catching his handler, but he or she had been alerted somehow and they came back empty-handed.

Qatana and Shalelu, meanwhile, had learned that our armbands belong to one “Asvig Longthews”, but only after spreading a lot of gold around. Why? Because almost no one wanted to talk about arm bands, lions, or Asvig himself, even after we had learned his name. They practically backed away from her.

At the caravan, Etayne learned from another Tian boy that people had been asking questions about us, and knew we had been making inquiries and dropping coins around the city to get answers. So, our attempts to gather information we’ren’t just attracting attention, they were actively alerting the people who were watching for us.

All these eyes on us, the constant spying, the mind games…it is unnerving. As a precaution, we have sent word to Kelda that we need to see her so that we can warn her. After all, they have her description, too.

At least we learned what we needed to learn. We have Asvig’s name. We know where we can find Fynn. And, as an added bonus, Ivan has a fabulously stylish new traveling outfit, courtesy of Koya (the old woman knows clothing, and Ivan was absolutely in need).

We leave for Fynn’s residence shortly. Hopefully, he will agree to see us. We could use the change in fortune.

Arodus 11 (Late afternoon, farmlands south of Kalsgard)

Asvig’s farmhouse sits just a short distance from us. Inside, we can hear the sounds of a loud, almost raucous, celebration and feast that is just getting underway. It provided a convenient cover while we scouted the grounds and came up with our plan.

The house is surrounded by a ring of wooden posts, each one bearing a stylized lion’s head that has been etched into it. The engravings match those on the armbands, though being much larger it’s now obvious that the artist had probably never actually seen a lion before, which I suppose is hardly surprising given where we are. More interesting is the magic aura that each one radiates: a conjuration spell, almost certainly a form of summoning. Our suspicion is that whoever breaches the perimeter will find themselves face to face with one or more angry cats.

I offered that the armbands are important, but we also found markings on the road running between two of the posts on the way to the house which suggest that someone had drawn a rune of some sort in the dirt, and then hastily (and sloppily) scratched it out. Sparna thinks that the rune might allow someone to pass without triggering the spell. It’s a good idea, and one that we’ll try first.

We aren’t moving in until dusk, though. The revelry ensures our advance won’t be heard, but while the sun is up we can easily be seen should someone choose to step outside for a break from the noise. It’s a chance we can’t take. Besides, the longer we wait, the less prepared the dinner guests will be for a fight. With any luck, some of them will even be drunk (and from the sounds of it, a few are well on their way there). There’s also a certain symmetry in ambushing Asvig and his men after dark.

We are not the only ones with a grievance against Asvig. He has been a busy man.

One of the few things that went right today was our meeting with Fynn. He wasn’t just home: he answered the door and invited us in. Who would have thought? I would have expected him to be more guarded, but I guess at his age you have seen a lot and if you weren’t a good judge of character then you wouldn’t still be around to avoid those mistakes. As soon as we mentioned Suishen, he took a closer look at Ameiko and then made the connection.

He remembered purchasing the sword from her grandfather—sure, it had been 60 years ago, but you don’t forget a unique event like that—and he had kept it on his mantle ever since. (Apparently he had tried to use it, himself, but it had never felt right in his hands.) Then, about two weeks ago, he came home to find his house broken into, his servants dead or dying, and Suishen stolen. He didn’t think much of it at the time, but one of his servants had said something about “paying the lion’s due” before succumbing to his injuries. We showed him one of the armbands, and suddenly we had a second connection to Asvig.

Who is Asvig? A local clan leader of sorts. Known to have a large number of henchmen, followers, guards, or hired thugs. You can take your pick from those as any or all of them seem to apply. The farm itself was supposed to be well fortified, something that we more or less have confirmed just by looking at it.

We told Fynn the story of our ambush at the Skalsbridge. He recognized the name of the boat. He said the Aril’s Hammer belongs to the Rimerunner’s Guild which is located in the Jade Quarter. So Asvig either rented it for the attack, or was hired directly and given use of it.

Traditions of the Ulfen people include that of the weregild, a value placed on people or property. If any harm comes to a member of your family or trust, or if any of your possessions are stolen, you are entitled to compensation from the transgressor. If no weregild is paid, then you may choose to seek a blood vengeance, which is a fancy way of saying that you can legally kill them. It’s a ridiculously barbaric way to resolve disputes, especially since all that is required to seek blood vengeance is to simply say that you are seeking blood vengeance and believe that you are right—though I suppose if you are later proven to be wrong, the victim’s family can always seek blood vengeance—but I digress. Fynn had not been offered a weregild, and given the enormity of the crime, he was ready to jump straight to the end, anyway.

You don’t see too many nonagenarian humans, Ulfen or otherwise, pursuing a blood vengeance, and that is where we come in. In exchange for Suishen, assuming we recover it, we are acting as Fynn’s proxies in this matter. I am still wrapping my head around it: we have the quasi-legal authority to just barge in there and execute Asvig and anyone who stands in our way. And people call Varisia a wild frontier.

Not that I am going to lose a lot of sleep over this. Some bad things have happened and Asvig seems to be in the thick of it.

I am getting worked up now just going over this all again, and that’s not even all there is. On the way to Fynn’s, we received an anonymous threat. From a blind beggar, no less! How did he know we were passing by? There are only three possibilities I could think of: someone alerted him (say, by magic), he recognized our voices, or he picked up on a scent that was unique to us. The first two I couldn’t do anything about, but the third? I wiped everyone down with the same spell I use for Qatana. Everyone.

While I was doing that, Etayne confronted him. He was paid to deliver this little warning when “someone who smelled like cabbages” walked by. So that’s number three for the win. Turns out, Etayne had spent the bulk of the morning in the Bone Quarter within a stone’s throw of a cabbage cart. I am sure we noticed the smell at one point, but it’s cabbages, so who cares, right? Gods!

And then there were the crows. They followed us out of Kalsgard on the way here and showed no signs of giving up. I had finally had enough of it and suggested that we get rid of them. How were we supposed to raid Asvig’s farm with these harbingers flying about? Qatana was more than happy to oblige. She sent out a sound burst that blew a good number of them out of the trees and onto the ground, either stunned or dead. A few arrows were enough to scatter the rest. I hated that this was the answer, but I won’t deny that it was satisfying.

It’s getting dark now. We should be moving soon.

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.