The companions came into Oroth a somber and worried group, Tense with the strain of looking over their shoulders for pursuit from the fiasco in Ujen two nights prior, they quickly found a decent looking inn near the south gate of the town, the Sign of the Red Fox. Devrik and Drake both agreed it would make a quick get-away easier, should such a maneuver become necessary.

Cris was recovered enough from his injuries to take the horses and pack mule to the nearest stables, since the inn’s small stable was already full; Mariala went with him, just to be sure he wasn’t rooked. Devrik took Obras’ ashes to the undertaker recommended by the innkeeper, and laid out 50 silver pennies for a decent bronze urn, while Drake and Vulk began quiet inquiries into the whereabouts of The Hand of Vengeance company.

By the time they gathered back at the inn for an early supper, they had learned that Captain Colith and his company, along with a bookish looking young fellow, had set out at mid-day three days earlier, on foot. They had purchased food and supplies clearly meant for a foray into the trackless reaches of the Delta’s marshes and swamps. Everyone who knew anything of the party seemed quite sure that they were planning an expedition to Vindar, former capitol of the Necromancer’s empire, now a ruin of cursed and haunted rubble sinking slowly into the swamps. When pressed, no one could remember anyone of the company saying so specifically, but they all held the same very strong impression.

“Maybe I was wrong,” Mariala said when all the facts learned so far had been shared. “Perhaps Ardath isn’t seeking out Baylora’s sanctum afterall, but going for something else, something in the ruins of Vindar…”

“An even more dangerous adventure, if half the tales told about that cursed place are true,” replied Drake. “But I doubt that it’s true.”

“I agree,” Devrik nodded. “The captain is too canny to let every Thom, Dak and Harad in town know what his business really was. I’ve seen him lead them as was too curious about his affairs down the garden path before, with them none the wiser he’d done so.”

“So,” replied Vulk, “if everyone they came in contact with in Oroth thinks they’re headed for Vindar, then that’s probably the one place in the Delta they aren’t going!”

The others nodded agreement, then went silent as the serving wench bustled into the private dining nook they’d taken for their meal, laying out their hot chocolate and a selection of small pastries. She gave Devrik a wink and swing of her hips as she turned to go, but he was too sunk in his thoughts to pay much heed.

“But even if we leave in the morning, and we’re not ready for that, they’re two and a half days ahead of us now,” he rumbled. “Damn! So close!”

“We may be able to overtake them,” Vulk offered. “There’s twenty men in the Company, and Ardath is bound to slow them further, since I doubt he can match them physically on the march.”

“Plus, there’s no reason to believe they’re in any particular rush,” added Mariala. “There’s no deadline to find the Sanctum, after all – it’s been hidden for half a century, what’s another day or two?”

She undercut this a bit when she continued, “Of course, Ardath did strike me as the impatient sort… always looking for short cuts.”

“It’s true that Colith would want to husband the men’s strength on the journey, if he believed there might be fighting at the end,” mused Drake. “I don’t know how much this Ardath told him of the real dangers, but even if he down-played them, the captain would assume the worst.”

Devrik snorted. “True enough, but with the arcane involved I’m not sure he really could imagine the worst… that’s what drives me mad about all this, that they may walk blindly into dangers they don’t even know enough of to look for!”

After some more back-and-forth, when the chocolate and the pastries were gone, it was agreed that they would spend tomorrow preparing themselves for the journey into the Delta, and leave at dawn on the day following. This would put the Hand and their employer more than four days ahead of them, but they were determined to overtake them before they reached their mysterious goal.

“After all,” Mariala pointed out, “just because Ardath thinks he knows where he’s going, doesn’t mean it will be that simple to actually find the place. There’s bound to be some casting about, maybe even some backtracking, and who knows what other delays.”

“True,” agreed Devrik. “But unfortunately the same problems face us too, along with the need to track our quarry.”

With that the group retired to their rooms, to rest or pursue other pastimes, depending on mood and inclination. And everyone kept an ear cocked for the tread of official boots that might indicate the killings in Ujen had been traced to them…

————————————————————

The next day dawned clear and sunny, the first truly spring-like day since the season had changed. Each of the group, after a quick breakfast, headed out into the town to take care of their part of the preparations. It had been agreed they would let it be know that they were part of The Hand of Vengeance, previously on detached duty and now hurrying to catch up with their fellows. And they’d also agreed to perpetuate the idea that the ruins of Vindar were indeed their goal.

Drake’s first task was to see to the long-term stabling of the horses. Although they would be taking the mule into the marshes, there was no point in leading their steeds to almost certain foundering and death, when they’d be unable to make use of their speed in any case. Cris led him to the stable he’d hired the night before, before heading off on his own errands.

As Drake entered the building, his eyes slow to adjust to the fragrant dimness after the bright morning sun, he was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder, wheeling him around.

“Drake?! Drake Bartoff?! By Agara’s balls, is that really you?!”