Devrik and the Khundari commander led the way up from the cellar of Draik’s apothecary shop, and as they did the dwarf called out loudly in his own tongue, something rapid and commanding. Devrik squinted suspiciously at him, but his reasons were quickly made clear as they entered the main room – two other black-clad Khundari Shadow Warriors were there, standing a surly guard over Draik, who was tied to a chair in the center of the room.

Indeed, he was very heavily tied to the chair, rather excessively so in fact; and he looked spitting mad, around the gag stuffed in his mouth and secured by a black cloth wrapped around his head. The two Khundari didn’t look any too pleased themselves. One had red, swollen eyes, still streaming as he obviously tried not to rub them, and the other one had a gash on one cheek and a decided limp as he turned to salute his commander.

“What in Kasira’s name is going on here,” Vulk demanded angrily as he pushed past the others, drawing his dagger and stooping to cut loose his friend.

At a motion from Lekorm the red-eyed Shadow Warrior checked his movement to stop the cleric, even as Devrik’s bloody hand went to his hilt.

“We took the obvious precaution of securing the likely escape route of the man, or men, we sought,” Lekorm explained. “But it seems things didn’t go as smoothly as I’d have thought, securing a single apothecary…”

By this time Vulk had removed the gag from Draik’s mouth, and his friend began an invective-laden account of the last few hours; this was quickly joined by the guttural shouts of first one, and then both, of his captors, sometimes in Yashpari, other times in Khundaic. After considerable amount of shouting on all sides, it was Mariala who finally managed to get everyone calmed down enough to extract a coherent story out of the three men.

It seemed that the two Shadow Warriors had not expected any great resistance from a mere shop-keeper when they’d jumped Draik as he came up from the cellar, slamming a bag over his head. But their target had had other ideas… between the various powders he carried, a kitchen knife and a frying pan, Draik had managed to cause some serious damage to the Khundari before they were able to subdue him. Enough damage, in fact, to lead them to take no chances when they finally secured him, thus explaining the excessive bondage in which his friends had found him. Fortunately, they’d had orders not to kill unless absolutely necessary, although they had been tempted…

Once the others had explained what had transpired below-ground, and the current detente between the two groups, Draik and his captors were forced to a grudging exchange of hand clasps and insincere apologies, under the watchful eyes of Lekorm and an increasingly pale Devrik. After which Vulk oversaw the removal of Devrik and the most badly wounded of the Khundari to rooms upstairs, where he could tend to them properly. Mariala set about making the hot chocolate that Draik had promised on their return, while he himself went out to his shop to get healing medicines for Vulk to use. Everyone else settled down around the dining table to quietly discuss the day’s events.

♦ ♦ ♦

Ser Alakor, informed by Vulk of the doings beneath his keep, had most of the Khundari moved to rooms in Dor Dür the next day, as honored guests. Whatever he felt about  secret missions and foreign subterfuge in his demesne, the Principality of Dürkon was too close, and trade with the Khundari too important, for him to do otherwise. He quickly agreed to sealing up the Lost Tomb again, to protect the honored remains that lay there, until such time as some better arrangement could be made. This would have to be done in consultation with his own liege lord and Prince Rhogûn, of course, which might lead to the tomb being moved, or perhaps opened to Khundari pilgrims… the more he thought about it, the latter idea had a certain appeal to Alakor, as it could bring considerable gold into Dür’s coffers…

The wounded Shadow Warrior and Devrik both remained at Draik’s residence, where they could be more easily tended by the cantor and Draik’s own healing potions. The other members of the Hand of Fortune spent much of the next day at Draik’s, keeping their friends company and discussing their next move. Thus it was that they were all together when Danyes Bartyne burst in late that afternoon to breathlessly announce that Tarich Manor was under siege by a gülvini horde!

Their initial shock and worry for Erol and Cris (and the others there too, of course) was somewhat mitigated as they questioned the excited youth. It seemed that he could only truly report, once they calmed him down, that less than a half-score gülvini had actually been seen, by Cris, and the “horde” was merely implied. Nonetheless, it was certainly possible that this group were only the outlier of a swarm, and that was something to take very seriously. When overpopulation and civil strife caused a large portion of a gülvini colony to flee, the results for anyone in the way of their search for a new home could be fatal.

Once the (slightly less-hysterical) word was taken to the Constable, he ordered a score of his troops to be prepared to mount up at first light the next morning, when he would personally lead them into the mountains. The Hand of Fortune, of course, insisted they would be at his side – including Devrik, despite both Vulk and Draik’s insistence that he wasn’t nearly recovered enough for combat. Even Raven couldn’t keep him from riding out with the others, although she did extract a promise from him to try to stick to magic rather than his sword if it came to a fight.

Lekorm also insisted that five of his Shadow Warriors accompany the party, as a sign of goodwill to the new Constable of Dür (and because the Khundari hate the gülvini with an undying rage, of course). He himself remained behind to tend to his wounded man (and to protect the Ancient artifact, Korwin suggested to his companions). Draik joined the party as well, it being his manor and all, donning once more his armour and taking up his sword (not to mention an arsenal of powders, potions and devices).

The war party, now 30 in number, reached Tarich Manor in the mid-afternoon, to find the situation under control. Erol had interrogated the one surviving member of the “horde” that may or may not have been planning to attack the manor, and had extracted much information before the creature died. Erol believed the gül’s story that they were a lone band, fled from their colony after a failed attempt to kidnap a “princess” (as female gülvini are called) so as to start their own colony. The big hovgavu hadn’t been their leader/master, but rather their slave – an unusual situation, only possible because the larger gül was extremely slow-witted and easily intimidated, except when he was in a fighting rage.

Despite this information, Ser Alakor felt it prudent to be sure. He and his men therefore spent the next two days patrolling far up into the mountains surrounding the small valley, seeking any sign of gülvini activity. The Shadow Warriors ran their own independent searches into the mountains, but like the Umantari soldiers, found no evidence of any nearby gülvini presence. When they returned to Tarich Manor, Alakor satisfied and the Khundari disappointed, they found the final repairs and improvements mostly finished, thanks to the efforts of Draik, his friends and the hired help.

Everyone spent one last evening and night at the manor, pretty much exhausting its store of food and beer in raucous carousing. When most of the party left the next morning to return to Dor Dür, only the old bailiff and two of the three hired farmhands remained behind. The third farm lad, Jeb, had jumped at the offer to become Erol’s batman, aide-de-camp, trainee… they never settled on an exact title. In exchange for his service (and skill with the short bow) Erol would teach Jeb the ways of the warrior, a prospect the rural youth found considerably more promising than that of being a peasant farmer.

♦ ♦ ♦

The day after their return to Dür, the 5th of Turniki, was Vulk’s 24th birthday, and he was very surprised to find a great celebration of the fact being held in the Great hall of Dor Dür that evening. It seemed half the town was in attendance, as well as all his friends and even the Shadow Warriors of Dürkon. Draik, in conjunction with his brother’s seneschal, had been planning the surprise party before the incident at Tarich Manor had drawn them away. Preparations had continued in their absence, on the assumption they’d return on time, and so it had been.

Protesting the such an extravagant fête in his honor, Alakor took him aside to explain that it was as much a celebration for the town, as for him. After all they’d been through under Ser Danyes’ harsh rule, and the terror of the garrison massacre, he felt they deserved a good drunken party. It would release the tensions of the past and hopefully point to a happier future. Vulk had impressed the folk of Dür during his brief tenure as their spiritual leader, so  his birthday was a convenient excuse for a celebration.

The highlight of the evening, however, was held privately. With just Mariala, Devrik, Raven, Erol and Cris present, Vulk and Draik exchanged the Oath of the Shield, administered by Alakor (as a lay brother of Cael), becoming Shield Brothers for life. Although brief, it was a very moving ceremony – and the emotion was soon buried under bawdy jokes and comments, which both the principals ignored with great distain. Vulk did feel somewhat better about leaving Draik to “retire,” afterward, and realized that this had been part of his friend’s reason for suggesting the rite.

The party went on late into the night, and a wonderful time was had by all, although the next day didn’t really begin for many people until well after the noon bells… and even then it was a dragging, wincing sort of start. But not for Vulk. He had retired relatively early, able to slip away despite being the supposed center of the party, to study a scroll that had been one of his birthday gifts. The new cantor of Dür’s temple had presented it to him with a wry smile, explaining that it might prove to be of some help to him on his chosen path. It was an Eldari ritual used by healers on the battlefield, to shield them and their patient from the notice of combatants around them, and Vulk immediately wanted to begin studying it.

Over the next several days the Hand of Fortune relaxed and recovered in the safety of Dür. Vulk studied his scroll, Mariala meditated and studied her own texts, as did Korwin, Erol began training Jeb in his duties as well as in close fighting, and Devrik continued to heal, his wounded hand improving quickly with Draik’s various experimental Baylorium potions.

In fact, an unexpected friendship had begun to develop between Devrik and Khandath, the Khundari warrior he had so badly wounded. Forced to recuperate together, they each seemed fascinated by the other’s particular special abilities – Devrik, by the Khundar’s amazing fighting style, Khandath by the Umantar’s fire magics. Of course, neither could share their secrets with the other, due to the strict rules of their respective organizations. Raven commented to Mariala that they were probably just wonder who could take whom, should there be a rematch.

Mariala herself had developed something of a rapport with Jehvar, the Khundari that Draik had hit with the frying pan. He was fascinated by her magics and her ability to speak his language, and she found him equally interesting in his  tales of Dürkon folklore and history. Gebtor, the Shadow Warrior she had taken out with her Fire Nerve spell, was wary of her, despite her efforts to apologize and draw him out.

Burlok and Verdolk, the two uninjured Khundari, spent much of their free time sparring with Erol and helping him train young Jeb in the ways of the award and axe. Their leader, Lekorm, spent a considerable amount to time in conversation with Vulk and Korwin, when they broke from their studies, and with Ser Alakor and Draik. ––, whom Draik had temporarily blinded with a burning powder, seemed to be always angry and wanted nothing to do with anyone, spending most of how time alone, honing his weapons.

It was during one of Lekorm’s conversations with Draik and Korwin that the subject of the mysterious mage/trader the Hand of Fortune was seeking came up. When they described the man, and the circumstances of their last encounter, he frowned and set down his ale.

“That sounds like Arlun Parek,” he said after a moments thought. “An Umantari trader in herbs and plants who has made several trips to Dürkon in the last several years.”

At his drinking companion’s surprised looks, he explained that as the Captain of the Prince’s Shadow Warriors, he made it his habit to know about every foreign visitor to the City. Unfortunately, he knew little more about this particular fellow – he had never gotten into any trouble nor had any complaints made against him.

“Indeed,” he concluded, “he might not be your fellow at all, except that I do remember the report of a distinctive tattoo on his wrist, the same one you describe as belonging to this ‘Vortex’ organization.

“If such an organization is operating in any way in our City, the Prince would want to know, and to root them out. I will bring word, but I would consider it a great favor if you and your companions would accompany us home, to give a first-hand report on these matters. And it may be you will find the trail of this man you seek, this Arlun Parek, in my City…”

The Shadow Warriors of Dürkon

Lekorm Darkeye – Captain of the Shadow Warriors

Khandath Stone Ear – Wounded by Devrik

Gebtor Grayjoy – Fire Nerved by Mariala

Burlok Coldhand – The most agile of the SW

Verdolk Firefoot – The youngest of the SW at 51

Grevimstor Starheart – Temporarily blinded by Draik’s powders

Jevhar Quicktongue – Wounded in leg and face by Draik’s frying pan