With war looming on the horizon, and their own on-going battle with the secret Vortex organization still unresolved, the members of the Hand of Fortune agreed that they didn’t need to go running after yet another enemy. If the Zalik-mal of Shalara were willing to stay out of their way, the Hand would not seek them out either.

“But we’re not turning a blind eye to their criminal enterprises if they come to our attention,” Mariala added, once the general consensus had been reached the morning after the fight in Rekka’s Arena between the Hand, more than a dozen thieves, two panthers, a gigantic Black Gül and a Death Worm.

“No, of course not,” Vulk had agreed, and the others nodded. “But for now, let’s just leave things to go on as they have for centuries and focus on our own problems.”

Currently, those problems seemed to consist of finding decent interior decorators and/or furniture makers. With the Vortex seemingly quiet and the King having departed two days earlier for the mustering of his army at Kar Urkonis, the Hand was unexpectedly free for a time. While Mariala undertook setting the remodeling of the Green Tower in motion, the others focused on more modest changes to their new homes. Well, except for Vulk, who began to design a sybaritic gambling den motif for Krenden House.

Toran and Korwin drew Devrik into their plan to utilize the acid sacs of the recently deceased Death Worm. The old apothecary/alchemist across the street from Mariala’s place was very excited to have access to the many other parts of the great beast, and took those as payment for processing the acid to Toran’s specifications. Devrik was equally excited at the prospect of creating both a sword and armor that could stand up to his fire magics… the possibilities were extensive!

The city was quiet as everyone went about their business, but a certain tension vibrated in the air, as if people were waiting. People seemed to go about with a certain air of distraction, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop…

King Maldan had done his best to make the city secure, both physically and psychologically – his brother, Ser Koris, had been left in charge of the city, and he had rammed through an acknowledgement of his son, Korun, as the Heir Apparent and Crown Prince while the Succession Council was still gathered together. This relieved some of the anxiety the people had about the new king going off to war, and reduced the likelihood of another succession crisis if the worst came to pass.

Every day the town criers posted news of the gathering of the Army of the East, and the state of the northern marches under the Army of the North, where the Earl Kinen commanded. The North remind quiescent, and once the King’s forces from west and south had finished gathering at Urkonis they would move east to secure the border with Tharkia. Speculation was rampant that the King might actually move to eliminate the threat by preemptively invading Tharkia… he did have a legitimate claim to that throne, after all, and as an usurper, Laravad II had no leg to stand on at all!

It came as quite a shock, therefore, when rumors began to spread through the city on the 23rd of Metisto that Tharkian forces had pulled off a surprise night attack, and the city of Tyendus had fallen! Crowds gathered in the square outside Kar Landsar, demanding news, but no official word was forthcoming.

New rumors, of the fall of Dor Ludolin and Dor Lorethal, began to circulate, and the crowds began to get restive as the anxiety grew. If Tyendus had fallen, that left only a handful of river fortresses to stop a waterborne assault on the capital itself – and Ludolin was one of those keeps! And weren’t the new king’s children, especially his Heir, in Tyendus…?

Finally, as the sun began to sink towards the western walls, an official herald appeared above the closed gates of the castle. In a firm, carrying voice, he read aloud a statement from Ser Koris, Constable of Kar Landsar:

“Citizens of Shalara, rumors lead to fear and panic when there is no cause for such! 

While it is true that the city of Tyendus has indeed fallen to a treacherous attack by the forces of the Tharkian usurper Laravad, on the night of the 21st, the King is already preparing to retake what was stolen from. The Army of the East is assembled, and prepares to march on Tyendus immediately!

And while that theft includes the keep at Ludolin, it does not include Dor Lorethal, which repulsed the attack by Laravad’s barbarian allies! Nor does it include the royal children – word has come that they escaped the city before its fall, and have taken refuge in Dor Lorethal itself, where they are safe and secure.

As is this great city. The garrison is more than ample to hold the walls against an army, never mind against the sort of rabble of sell-swords and barbarians that the criminal Laravad has under his command. 

Surprise and treachery have given him a minor, and very temporary, victory. But strength and virtue will send him and his barbarian rabble to the grave soon enough!

So go on about your business, people of Shalara, and don’t let the terrorists win! Buy war bonds!”

The crowds slowly dispersed… if not with fears completely allayed, at least with more confidence that the King had the situation in hand. The night was quiet, thankfully, as a subdued populace generally stayed home.

♦ ♦ ♦

The next day a courier arrived at the Green Tower, formally summoning the Hand of Fortune to Kar Landsar in the name of the King. There they met with Ser Koris, the King’s brother and currently in charge of the city.

“I have summoned you here at the King’s request,” he began once everyone was seated around a richly inlaid table in a small private study. “I am instructed to give to all the facts, as we currently understand them, in regard to recent events.

“As we have publicly announced, Tyendus fell three nights ago, to a surprise attack. It seems that a squad of Ethmoniri barbarians were able to sneak into the city during the day, and after midnight they ambushed and murdered the guards on the River Gate. They then opened the gates, allowing a large strike force to cross the Bellanin Bridge and seize control of the whole district.

“With their bridgehead secured, the full army that had been gathering at Kar Olsepor these last tendays was able to enter the city unimpeded. The garrison did their best, as the fighting went street to street, but surprise and the ferocity of the attack – half the “soldiers” seems to be barbarians survivors report – doomed them.

“Apparently the Crown Prince and the Princess managed to escape by the Vinkara Gate before the citadel fell, thank all the Immortals… although Prince Korun was wounded at some point. How badly, we don’t know. The courier raven was maddeningly vague…

We know my nephew and niece, with their guards, made it to Dor Lorethal, only to find it under siege by a barbarian force. Apparently… and this is hard to understand… Princess Miralda, somehow, lead an attack on the enemy’s rear, breaking  the siege… the King fears that this means Korun is more seriously wounded than… or maybe…”

Ser Koris ran his hands through his hair in frustration. There was more gray there than the last time we met, Mariala thought to herself.

“Well, that’s just it – we don’t know! And the King must know, soon. But it is imperative that he strikes quickly, before the Tharkians have a chance to consolidate their grip on our stolen land, and he can spare none of his forces to secure his children.

“Therefore, he asks that you all come, by the fastest means you know,” and here the knight looked slightly askance at Mariala, magic making him uncomfortable, “to Kar Urkonis. He wishes to speak with you privately, about what I’m sure you can all imagine.”

The Hand, of course, agreed immediately, and after a brief consultation with the Mistress of Esoterica for her knowledge of Nitaran gates in both Shalara and Urkonis, they returned to New District to prepare for their journey.

♦ ♦ ♦

Devrik, who had been growing increasingly concerned about the safety of his wife and son in recent days, decided now was the time to act. Using the linked parchment Mariala had provided him and Raven, he concisely outlined his plan, asking her and their son Aldari to meet the group at Dor Lorethal as soon as was possible. A separate note to Ser Alakor ensured a proper escort for mother and child.

Vulk called on Lady Lania, the Countess Kinen, to thank her for her hospitality and explain why they were leaving the city. She immediately seized the opportunity to request that she and her daughter, the Maid Carissa be allowed to accompany them.

“I have been thinking for days that it might be best for us to leave the capital. I know it is unlikely an attack will come here, but I would feel better closer to home, and I know my daughter Thalisa, the Countess Yorma, would be pleased to have us at Kar Urkonis. It would also put us closer to my husband, since he’d rather we not return to Kar Vinkara just yet, given the barbarian troubles in the north…

“Both Carissa and myself have the utmost confidence in you and your friends, and I can’t imagine a better escort on the road!”

“Under normal circumstances, m’lady,” Vulk replied diplomatically, “we would be pleased to act as your escort. But we travel now not by roads, but by… more esoteric paths.”

“Ah, you intend to Gate to Kar Urkonis,” the Countess said, looking momentarily nonplussed. But she quickly rebounded, and nodded her head decisively. “Well, I’ve never traveled that way before, but frankly, it’s even better than risking the roads… assuming five more people would not be a problem?”

‘Um, no, m’lady,” Vulk answered reluctantly. “It stretches things a bit, but wouldn’t be absolutely prohibitive… but Lady Lania, I could not guarantee your safety! You must know that Gate travel is inherently dangerous; I can tell you from personal experience that you do not always end up where you intended! Even the most skilled Gate-travelers cannot be assured of a successful, or safe, journey.”

“It can hardly be less safe than the roads right now, Cantor Ser Vulk. I am willing to take the chance… and I know my daughter will be thrilled to experience real ‘magic’ of this sort!”

Vulk continued to try and dissuade the lady from her wish, but in the end he gave in. It was hard to believe that a year ago she was a frail shell of herself, on the verge of death. Seeing her now, with that steely determination beneath a genteel, matronly exterior, he could understand why the Earl would risk so much to restore her to this.

♦ ♦ ♦

It was early afternoon when all the preparations had been made and the Hand returned to Kar Landsar. They were greeted by both Ser Koris and Derwen Verdeth, the Mistress of Esoterica, who led them up to a medium sized chamber in the tallest tower of the castle. Lady Lania, Maid Carissa, their two maids and a major domo were already there.

“Welcome to the Gate of Shalara,” Mistress Verdeth said as the last person crowded into the room. “As His Majesty has requested, I shall help you open the way Urkonis, and teach you the Patterns for both this Gate and that.”

She didn’t seem to be all that pleased to be sharing such privileged information with johnny-come-lately interlopers – Mariala sensed she felt more than a little threatened by both her and Devrik – but she knew which side her bread was buttered on. And who buttered it.

As Verdeth instructed Vulk and Devrik in the Patterns, Mariala looked over and winked at the Maid Carissa, who was almost beside herself with excitement at the prospect of not only seeing powerful magics at work, but being a part of it all. Only a certain tightness of the mouth betrayed her mother’s tension, even as she smiled indulgently at her daughter.

When all was ready, Mistress Verdeth, with Devrik and Vulk flanking her, one hand placed atop each of her outstretched hands, began a low chant.  Slowly a shimmer seemed to fill the air in the center of the room, expanding outwards until it was three meters across, barely visible even to the trained eye. When Vulk gave the signal, they all moved forward towards the shimmer, and one by one the travelers disappeared. Devrik and Vulk were the last ones through…

♦ ♦ ♦

The Gate of Urkonis was located not in a tower, or even in a wooded grove, but in a large cave beneath the castle. Over the centuries it had been worked and sculpted into an impressive chamber with pillars into likenesses of exotic plants and animals, and a domed ceiling of purple-veined white marble. Great iron-bound oak doors barred the only exit from the chamber, and guards were posted outside, small grates in the wall allowing them to see in and question arriving travelers.

Lady Thalisa, the Countess Yorma, was summoned as soon as the party had identified itself, and soon the Hand was seated in another private study. After seeing to their comfort, the Lady bore off her mother and sister to their own rooms and a private chat. A few minutes after they had left, the door to the study opened again and three men entered – King Maldan I, Lord Sedris Kleftin, the Earl Yorma, and Lord Karsin Tobalin, the Baron Ludolin. They all looked tired and worried, but the latter looked positively haggard.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” the King began without preamble, motioning everyone to stay seated. “I have a task for you, if you will undertake it, one I think your group is uniquely suited to.”

“I’m sure we stand ready to help you in whatever way we can, Your Majesty,” Vulk replied, bowing in his seat. The others murmured assent.

“I wish you to recover my children from their refuge at Dor Lorethal, and bring them here,” Maldan said bluntly. “I can’t spare enough troops to feel certain of their safety, and in any case I understand my son is wounded… very seriously, if he let his sister lead an attack…”

The King looked momentarily distracted, then he shook his head, straightened his back, and continued.

“My children know you, from our journey south together earlier this month, which is one advantage in sending you. Another is the considerable skill set you bring, both in the physical and arcane realms. But of overriding concern to me now is Cantor Ser Vulk’s healing abilities… if Prince Korun is as badly wounded as… as I fear, then the sooner you can attend to him the better.”

Vulk looked suddenly pale, but wisely refrained from saying anything.

“My mother-in-law speaks very highly of you all,” Lord Sedris said, leaning forward. He was as tall, dark haired, gray eyed, square of jaw and charismatic as they all remembered. “Especially of the healing potions of your comrade Ser Draik. We know he is not with you, but Dor Dür is not far from Lorethal… perhaps, if it is necessary…” he spread his hand in question.

“Yes,” Vulk nodded. “It is possible to contact him, and he might meet us there…”

“Good!” said the King. “Very good! But let me be clear on one point – as much as I appreciate your willingness to use the Nitaran system to reach me as quickly as I needed you to, I don’t wish you to risk such travel with my children. My Master of Horses will outfit you with fast steeds and strong remounts, enough for you all and the children – when the Crown Prince is well enough to travel, in your opinion Ser Vulk, then ride straight to Urkonis. They will be safe here, under the care of Lady Thalisa and the protection of the Earl’s garrison.”

Suddenly the Lord Karsin leaned forward, his eyes red-rimmed and glaring. “And if you can do this, then I have a request, of you and of the King – rescue my children next!” His jaw worked convulsively as he tried to continue, but the King put his hand on his shoulder and eased him back.

“The Baron is distraught,” he said quietly. “And for good reason. The same night that Laravad’s treachery took Tyendus, a similar betrayal allowed him to seize the keep at Ludolin, the Baron’s seat… we have had news just today that Lady Seria… died trying to defend her children. And they have let it be known that the children are alive and prisoner in their own home.”

“So young,” the Baron groaned. “Seria is but 17, and Karsin barely 15…”

♦ ♦ ♦

The next morning, in the cold, misty hour before dawn, the Hand prepared to ride out from Kar Urkonis. The King was there to see them off, despite the fact that his army was preparing to march. He was already in his armor, and his squire stood a short way off holding his helmet and his battle sword.

“My prayers go with you,” he said quietly as they stood together in a circle of torch light. “It may be that we will finish this quickly, and all of my fears will be for naught.

“I have a strong right arm in Lord Sedris, his men are fiercely loyal to him, and good fighters. And if Lord Clarin can bring even a third of the Army of the North to us in the next few days… Meanwhile, our enemy is disunited – Laravad is as big a fool as rumor makes him, to try to combine barbarians with a civilized army. Although the Lady of Luck has favored the fool so far…

“Cantor Ser Vulk – although I’ve already had the blessings of my own chaplain this gray morning, would you favor me with your blessing as well? Kasira seems to smile on you, and I would not refuse such grace for myself.”

Vulk lifted his baton and as the King knelt before him called a heartfelt blessing down on the monarch, his army, and his family. Rising to his feet, the King seemed somehow lighter, as if a weight had been lifted.

“May the Immortals go with you, my friends,” he said, saluting them. Then he turned and strode back towards his squire, and both soon vanished in the morning mists.

♦ ♦ ♦

It as just after noon the next day when the Hand rode into the village of Lorethal, huddled beneath the gray walls of the keep. It was obvious that war had passed over this small town – several buildings, including the local temple, were burned to the ground, a few others were visibly damaged, and the field before the gates was a churned mess, as if a battle had been fought there.

The patrolling squads of heavily armed soldiers were jumpy and suspicious, but they eventually accepted the group’s credentials, and let them pass up to the keep. There they again had a time convincing the guards of their bona fides, until a commanding female voice ordered the gates opened.

The Princess Miralda looked rather different than the last time the group had seen her. Still tall, dark blond and possessing a face that was perhaps too strong to be strictly beautiful, she no longer wore the fine riding dress of twenty days ago, but instead a simple frock of brown and green wool. Her air of distracted diffidence was also gone, replaced by an aura of steely competence.

She recognized the Hand, of course, and lead them into the Great Hall of the keep as stable hands saw to the horses. Once everyone was seated and servants had poured watered wine all around, they were joined by a man, perhaps 30, who had recently seen hard fighting. Dark hair and brown eyes, he hovered protectively near the Princess.

“The captain of my guard, Borain Loxarin,” she introduced him. “I don’t know if you met when last we traveled together…”

“Not that I recall, Princess,” Vulk said. “But before anything else, I must ask to see your brother – we know he was wounded, and your father asked me to bring my healing skills to him as soon as was possible.”

Miralda looked briefly down, and when she looked back up there were tears in her eyes. “My brother is dead, Ser Vulk. He died the evening of the day we arrived.”

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness,” Vulk said, sinking back in his chair as shocked murmurs went around the table. “How… we heard he was wounded in escaping Tyendus,,,”

“Actually, it was after that,” Captain Loxarin spoke up. He looked at the Princess, and continued when she nodded. “The Crown Prince was reluctant to leave the city while there was any chance of repelling the invaders… but when it was obvious the city had fallen, and the citadel was next, I convinced him to… depart.”

“Flee, was how he put it, actually,” Miralda said with a small, sad smile.

“Yes, well, in any case we were able to get out of the keep by the postern gate with our horses, my squad of twenty men-at-arms, the Crown Prince, his squire, the Princess and her maid… and me, of course. We set off across country… and picked up some refugees along the way…”

“Niether Captain Loxarin nor my brother was happy about it,” the princess put in. “But I was not going to leave those poor people to suffer – I saw what those animals did to our people… to the women, even the children…”

“Yes, well, so there we were, slowed down a bit by having to double up to carry the three women, two men and seven children… I figured we had maybe two hours before dawn to get to some sort of cover… which turned out to be about right.

“Unfortunately, just as we reached the shelter of the forest north of the city, we met an outrider patrol of the invaders. Ethmoniri tribesmen, maybe a dozen of them… the odds didn’t faze them a bit, they just whooped in to the attack… maybe they figured the women and kids would hinder us.

“But they were wrong, and we beat them off, killing most of them before the survivors turned tail. But that’s when the Prince was wounded – an Ethmoniri knife in the side. It didn’t seem too bad, at first, but by noon he wasn’t able to stay in the saddle… I carried him in front of me, but it slowed us down even more.

“So it wan’t until the next morning that we approached Dor Lorethal. But we’d encountered some burned out farms, and I had a bad feeling… so I sent scouts ahead. The news they brought back wasn’t good. The town was taken and the keep was besieged. My men had found and killed four sentries, and didn’t think there were more, at least on this side of the keep, but I knew they’d be missed eventually.

“Of course the fortress itself wasn’t in much danger, since the invaders seemed to be about 80 tribesmen with a company of 20 Tharkian knights supposedly in “command,” so they had no siege equipment. But that didn’t help us. I was all for turning back south and west, maybe make for Kar Urkonis –”

“Which would have taken another three days,” Miralda interrupted. “Korun didn’t seem like he had three days. We needed medical help soon. He was already delirious, drifting in and out. I insisted on seeing the situation for myself, and when he couldn’t talk me out of it, Borain, that is Captain Loxarin, made me put on as much of Korun’s armor as possible. It was my idea to take the sword.

“He also insisted on taking the entire troop with us, less one man to watch over my brother and the refugees… one of the women was a midwife, and was doing all she could for Korun. So from the edge of the forest we watched… most of the invaders had gathered in front of the main gate, out of arrow range, of course, and there seemed to be some sort of parley going on.

“It quickly became obvious that the commander of the Tharkian knights had challenged the keep’s commander to single combat… and my idiot half-uncle had agreed! Oh, did I mention that my father’s half brother, Ser Tualth Kalafon holds this keep as the Sheriff of Kinenshire? Everyone in the family thinks he’s a twit, and I’d say this stunt proved it. Except that if he hadn’t agreed to it…

“Well, when we realized what was happening, I had Borain send for the horses, and even go the two peasant men up and armed. I figured it was all or nothing, and my captain agreed… although he was rather shocked when I mounted up and insisted on leading the attack!”

“Shock doesn’t cover it,” the captain said dryly. “If she hadn’t already started to charge I’d have pulled her off that damn horse and sat on her… as it was, I had no choice but to follow her! The gates of the keep were open, Ser Tualth was advancing with his squire to meet Ser Goren Veldaran (as we later learned), and the invaders were totally focused on the upcoming sport.

“The sight of this berserker warrior woman, screaming and waving her sword as she plunged into their rear, must have stunned them – we cut down a dozen before they started to get their wits about them. I’ve been training the Princess since she was 15, at her father’s command, but even I was surprised at her skill and focus in battle.”

Miralda blushed and shrugged. “Daddy always said I should know how to protect myself in a hard, cold world.”

“Yes, well in spite of all that,” Loxarin continued, “we’d  have been lost soon enough if Ser Tualth’s own guard captain, Jefar Hamdon, hadn’t been on the ball. He had tried to talk his lord out of, but the Sheriff insisted it was a mater of honor. He demanded that Hamdon abide by the agreement if he lost, and surrender the keep. I gather the man had no intention of doing that, however, and he managed to convince the Sheriff to allow him to have his men mounted and ready in the courtyard in case the enemy proved less honorable than himself.

“So, when we hit the enemy from behind, Captain Hamdon ordered his own 40 men to the attack. Even in the heat of battle, I have to say the Sheriff’s look of shock and outrage as his men streamed past him was priceless.”

“He’s still sulking in his rooms,” Miralda added. “He can’t argue with the results, but he insists his ‘honor’ has been sullied. Twit.”

“We were still out numbered, of course,” Loxarin went on. “But not by much, and surprise is a tremendous force multiplier. We routed the motherless bastards, killing 55 tribesmen and nine Tharkians, and captured 11 knights. No Ethmoniri let himself be taken alive, and the survivors melted into the forest. I’d have liked to hunt them down, but –”

“Wasn’t practical,” Miralda said firmly. “We lost seven men, the garrison lost nine, and we had my brother to think about. We got him into the keep and in a proper bed, but there was little the Sheriff’s doctor could do… infection had set in. And the local cantor had been killed when the barbarians torched the temple, so there was no one to even preserve him at the moment of… when he died that night.

“Unfortunately, I’d had them send off a message by raven as soon as we were secure in the keep – the last raven, as it turned out, So when Korun… later, there was no way to send the news. But maybe that’s not so bad after all… it would be awful for Father to hear the news that way…”

Everyone was silent for a few moments as they contemplated this amazing story. Finally Vulk broke the spell, clearing his throat.

“We are very sorry for your loss, my lady,” he said gravely. “It is a blow to the whole realm, to be sure. But you are the Heir now, and and our duty to your father remains clear. We must get you to the safety of Kar Urkonis as soon as possible.”

“Oh, I don’t know about the Heir thing,” the princess shrugged. “Father had the Succession Council agree to my brother while he still had them all in one place, and the fear of war was fresh in their minds. Now… the situation has changed. War is upon us, and if anything were to happen to the King… Agara forfend that it does… well, who knows what would happen?”

“Nonetheless,” Vulk insisted. “You are the Heir Apparent, and your father’s orders are clear. How soon can you be ready to go?”

♦ ♦ ♦

As it turned out, not the next day. Which was just as well, since it wasn’t until the next morning that Raven, Aldari, Black Hawk, Draik and 20 Hand of Vengeance mercenaries arrived at the gates. Devrik’s family reunion was everything he’d hoped it would be, and that night they let Uncle Black Hawk babysit his nephew while they got… reacquainted. Several times.

Vulk was thrilled to see his old friend again, and after a good meal and several drinks, Draik pulled out a leather satchel and showed of his latest advancement in the field of Baylorium. Opening the satchel, he pointed to two rows of six vials each, held firmly in place by leather loops.

“Behold,” he said dramatically. “The very latest in miraculous medical magic – Baylorium-7!”

“Very nice,” said Erol, picking up one of the vials. “Looks like… curdled milk.”

“And smells like chicken that’s been left in the sun too long,” Draik replied, taking the vial back. “But that’s not the point. The point is, the healing properties are the point. It’s designed for open wounds – cuts, abrasions, punctures… even burns. Used as a topical, the base doubles the healing rate of such wounds. Which is great, of course, but hardly miraculous, right?”

His friends nodded in agreement. Toran poured more wine.

“But, when you add a drop of your own blood…” Draik paused for dramatic effect. Mariala rolled her eyes.

“…and let it sit in a warm place for 75 hours… it attunes itself to your specific biological structure! And then, when you apply it to a wound, the healing rate is somewhere between 10 and 12 times normal! A wound that would take a tenday to heal normally is healed in a single day, or less!”

That got everyone’s attention. Vulk picked up a vial and looked closely at it. It did look a lot like curdled milk… with a…  was that a faint blue tint?

“And I’m really excited to see what it does in conjunction with your psionic healing ability, Vulk,” Draik went on. “My theory is that it could boost the efficacy of the Baylorium-7 by an order of magnitude – a hundred-fold increase in healing rate for the keyed version!

“I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to use it on the poor Prince…”

“Still, it should come in quite handy in our line of work,” Erol said thoughtfully. “How long does the keyed balm stay potent? Ot the base version, for that matter?”

“Well, at the moment, the base retains full potency for about a month, decreasing in potency by 20% for every five days after that… so less than two months before it’s just a foul smelling cream. It turns an increasingly dark shade of blue after that first month, until it’s almost black.

“Once you’ve added blood to it – just a single drop is enough – and it’s “cooked” for three days, then it remains fully effective for a tenday. Potency drops by 20% every day after that. By day 15 it’s gone from the pale pink of full potency to the red-black of uselessness.”

“This really is amazing, Draik,” Mariala said. “This will change everything – military medicine alone will be revolutionized!”

“Mmmm, well, maybe someday,” Draik shrugged. “But at the moment it’s difficult and time-consuming to make, doesn’t last very long, and it doesn’t travel well in bulk– large batches tend to lose efficacy more quickly than small ones. These vials are the optimum size, so far.  Oh, and extremes of both heat and cold renders the stuff inert. It’s also not exactly cheap. But I’m working on all of that –”

“What is the temperature range?” Vulk asked, carefully replacing the vial in its proper slot.

“Down to just above freezing, at which point it turns to a crystalline mush, and up to a really hot summer day, when it liquifies completely. That’s why I had this special satchel made for me by an Avikor mage I know in Tyendus.” Draik frowned as he recalled the fate of that city, and wondered if the woman was still alive. “Regardless of the ambient temperature around it, it keeps the interior at normal human body temperature. Which is about the perfect temperature for “cooking” the keyed version, by the way.”

“How many doses are there per vial?” Korwin asked, while eyeing the satchel and wondering if he could reverse-engineer the spell that made it work.

“Depends on the size of the wounds and the amount of tissue damaged, really. I’ve found that I can usually heal three “average” life-threatening wounds with a vial. With lesser wounds it would go farther, obviously, but it’s an expensive way to treat scratches.

“In any case, this is for you,” he concluded, handing Vulk the satchel. “I’ll try to have more ready for you in a month or so, assuming this damn war doesn’t interfere.”

♦ ♦ ♦

The next day, the 28th of Metisto the group set out from Dor Lorethal for Kar Urkonis shortly after sun-up. The Sheriff had deigned to come out to see his niece off, but remained aloof and apparently depressed. Draik wished them all well, gave the baby a last avuncular kiss, and headed north with his Hand of Vengeance escort.

The group now consisted not only of the Hand of Fate, but one princess, one maid, one wife, one baby, one brother-in-law, one Guard Captain, 13 men-at-arms, and 15 remount horses. Putting the rising sun on their left, the party set out on the road to Kar Urkonis.