Amazon Güls of the Northern Wilds

It was little more than an hour past dawn, on 10 Glacia, that the Hand of Fortune was summoned by a servant of Lekorm Darkeye to attend upon himself and the Prince in the High Dungeons. The cells, high in the face of the cliffs that overlooked the Outer City, had stunning views of the freedom denied to their occupants, and were freezing. Fortunately, two large braziers were burning brightly in the interrogation room to which the servitor led them, over one of which Prince Rhoghûn was warming his hands. Nearby Captain Darkeye stood silently, his axe drawn and his eyes firmly on the iron-bound prisoner at his feet.

This was a pathetic figure, a wet, shivering and terrified-looking gül-kobal, whose amber, cat-like eyes darted continuously from his guard to the Prince, and now to this group of (mostly) humans who stared down in surprise at him. He was small, not much more than a meter tall, but wiry and strong-looking, with white fur, streaked with tawny bands around his weasal-like face. His fur and leather clothes were soaked, and he had been relieved of any weapons when he had been chained hand and foot. The Captain nudged him with his boot, and addressed the newcomers.

“He arrived at the Third Upper Gate an hour ago, waving the blue spruce branch of truce. It was a near thing with the gate watch, but they didn’t put a bolt through his eye immediately. Instead, they brought him to me. When I heard his story, I sent word at once to his Highness…”

The Prince nodded and took up the story himself. “Normally I’d have the mewling thing strangled and thrown from the Rock… we have no interest in any gülvini, save that they should die!

“But this one tells an entertaining story, I’ll admit… it seems that a gül-hovgavu female, one of the so-called “Queen’s Guard,” slew the ”king” of her tribe this summer, when he tried to rape her… she’s apparently quite large and strong, even for her breed… she and her fellow female “guards” then killed all the other males in the hive… and the “queen” too, seemingly out of pure spite!

“Ever since, this Khana, as the litle shit-eater names her, has been cutting a bloody swath through the gülvini tribes of the northern mountains. They attack a hive-nest, killing or castrating and enslaving the males and recruiting the strongest females to her service. She always kills the ”queens,” however… apparently she wants no competition, and seeks a male worthy to be her consort!”

The Prince shook his head in amused wonderment at the thought of his peoples hated enemy so decimating themselves. “Well, it is ever so with these creatures, they turn their murderous violence on themselves when no other enemy is available. I’ve not heard of anything like this before, though it is said the females are often even more vicious fighters than the males. Apparently true, ha!”

Looking down now with a frown on the bound prisoner, he continued “Now this band of gül-kobali have lived high in the valley of the Darl River, in the foothills of Mt. Muntursk, for several years now; my father was content to ignore them, as they kept away from our shepherds and charcoalers. Although there has long been a sentiment amongst my people that we should destroy them, or at least drive them out, as long as they caused me no trouble I was willing to leave them in peace.

“Not so this Khana creature, however! Yesterday she and a band of her female warriors attacked the kobali nest, apparently seeking scout-slaves for her growing band. This cringing rat, who claims a name… what was it Captain? Oh yes, Metotha… along with two of his fellows, escaped the carnage and apparently thought they would find help here.” He barked a laugh. “A fools hope! No Khundari would lift a finger to save any of the deathspawn, and I am no exception, whatever some of the stone-brains amongst my enemies believe. But…

“It was his description of the weapon this she-demon wields that gave me pause…” he began to pace a short trajectory between the two braziers. “It just may be the Axe of Arghün, a great artifact of my house, lost many years ago when my foolish older brother fell into a trap set by a cunning chieftan of the gül-Hovgavu of Zherin. He lost his head and the axe, and we have sought in vain to learn of its whereabouts ever since. Now it seems it might be within my grasp!

“But I must be sure, before I send my troops… the poitical situation in the city is still fragile… so I would ask you to investigate this for me. This worm claims she has only a score of warriors, surely no match for your skills, should it come to a fight. But if you can confirm that this Khana does, in fact, possess my family’s Axe, then I will send my Shadow Guard to burn out this nest to recover it if need be!”

The group readily agreed to help their host in this matter, the more readily because the fighters, at least, were beginning to grow weary of inactivity, despite the hours of training with the Shadow Warriors. A little outside air and some real fighting might be just the thing! Captain Darkeye hauled the gül, Metotha, to his feet and frog-marched him from the room.

“I’ll have him at the Third Upper Gate when you’re ready,” he said to Devrik. “He and his… friends… can guide you to their nest. Since they want our help, I doubt they’ll pose you any threat, at least on the road… but don’t turn your back on them!”

Once the gül had been removed, with many anxious looks over its shoulder, the Prince visibly relaxed.

“It takes all I have not to slay such beasts on the spot,” he growled. “But the possibility of regaining the Axe is too important to allow reflexes to rule me. And if I can regain the Axe of my ancestors… well, it will help calm the fears of some of my more reactionary subjects, I do believe.

“Now, before you go, there is somethings you should know about this great weapon… the Axe of Arghün is a battle axe of outstanding beauty, bronze hardened to the strength of steel, shaped and engraved into the likeness of the great Khundari warrior Arghün Gülsbane, who died after repulsing three waves of a gülvini army before the gates of Zakiruth. Though the city later fell to the armies of the Necromancer, his bravey was remembered and the first ruling Prince of Dürkon, my great-great grandfather, commissioned the greatest weaponsmith of his day, Kharat Ironbinder, to create a weapon in Arghün’s honor.

“It is a Great Artifact, possessing its own kind of intelligence, in the manner of the great artificers. It is said, and I have seen it myself, in my youth, that the Axe will cause intense dread in any who oppose its wielder, often causing them to quail and even faint. But if it is wielded by a Khundari warrior against gülvini foes, it causes those beasts to cower and even flee in outright terror. To think that it might be used by one of the damned monsters is an affront! It makes my blood boil! It must not be allowed!”

After a moment the Prince, who had grown quite red in the face, took a deep breath and smiled ruefully at his guests. “My apologies, but this touches me deeply… my brother…

“Well, never mind, what’s past is past. If you can return this great treasure to my House, or even confirm that it is, indeed, in the hands of this Khana, I will owe you yet another debt of gratitude.

“In any case, when you have no further use for the kobali who will guide you, I would appreciate it if you could dispatch them. And any others you might come across. With their hive-nest already decimated, I see no need to allow them a chance to rebuild, eh?”

Mariala and Devrik frowned at this last request, called out as they were leaving the room, but said nothing just then.

♦  ♦  ♦

It took less than an hour for the Hand to prepare for their mission, and they were soon at the Third Upper Gate, with Cris and Jeb in tow. The youngsters were excited and nervous, especially Jeb, who kept checking and rechecking his bow. Captain Darkeye and two of his soldiers waited for them, and a few meters off huddled Metotha and his two companions, watching the Dwarves warily. It was overcast and cold, with a foot of snow on the ground and blanketing the trees of the forest, but a new snowfall didn’t seem likely anytime soon.

The group planed to travel first to the Khundari outpost nearest the kobali hive-nest, where they would find four soldiers on duty. Toran had been given tokens of authority by which the group could command these fighters, should they need to. From there they would approach more cautiously the current lair of this gülvini she-demon…

Along the way they learned something of the three kobali who guided them. Metotha was a hunter/scout for his tribe, as were his tow companions, Ghek and Hurjen. They had been just returning from a night hunt, with several others, when they came across the massacre in front of their nest. Hovgavu females were tearing through the kobali, little more than half their size, with ferocious abandon, killing and castrating without even trying to take slaves!

They had heard rumors of Khana for months now, but had not quite believed them, nor realized she might be so close. Some of their companions leapt into the fight, but Metotha saw that is was hopeless, and convinced his two friends that they would only die if they did the same. Recognizing Khana from her size and the weapon she wielded, and knowing the axe to be of Khundari make, he conceived the idea of seeking help from their traditional enemies… after all, they had lived for many years now in proximity without conflict… Ghek and Hurjen were dubious, but in the end they agreed, as long as he was the one to approach the dwarves…

While the gülvini were clearly nervous about their companions, especially Toran, they also tried to be obsequiously nice, praising them for aiding their people and offering up crude jokes in their broken but intelligible Yashpari. Toran tended to ignore them, but the others, to one degree or another, were willing to interact with the little beastmen. It was the first time most of them had experienced any gül outside of combat, or at least potential combat.

While still more than an hour out from the outpost, by Toran’s estimation, they caught flashes of lights thhrough the snow-covered firs around them.

“It’s the heliograph at the outpost,” Toran explained. “Sending some message back to the City… I’m afraid I can’t make it out clearly, through the trees. Something about Gülvini… doesn’t seem urgent, though.”

“Perhaps they’ve had word of last night’s attack,” Mariala suggested. “They may have heard the battle…”

“Hmmm, perhaps,” the dwarf agreed. “But I think we should pick up the pace…”

♦  ♦  ♦

On arriving at the outpost, which was  built into a stoney hill that rose sharply above the surrounding forest, they found everything quiet. No sign of combat or activity, save for a mish-mash of bootprints in the snow around the hidden entrance Toran lead them too. The tracks headed off in the direction that Metotha said his hive-nest lay. It was decided that the güls should remain outside, under the eves of the forest, while the Hand met with the watchmen. No sense in complicating things more than necessary.

Toran located the hidden lever than would alert the watchers within that visitors awaited. It took almost ten minutes, but eventually the door swung open, and they were greeted by an elderly Khundari who identified himself as Hemdan, caretaker of the outpost. Seemingly out of breath, he motioned them to follow, and they ascended a spiral staircase carved from the living stone, up to the outpost’s main chamber.

“I was surprised to hear you out there,” he wheezed as they entered the large circular room, whose eight windows looked out in every direction. They could be opened at need, but were currently sealed by thick glass panes set in iron frames. “We sent the message to the City not three turns of the glass past!”

“We were already on our way,” Toran replied. “What was the message you sent?”

“About the gülvini attack on the charcoaler and his family,” the old man replied, sinking into what was obviously his usual well padded chair. “I’ve said for years we should burn out that nest of vipers, that they were just lulling us… and now here we are, young Estavas and his family taken off, to be eaten no doubt, unless Sgt. Jhundar and the men get there on time…”

It took a few minute to get the story from the querulous old dwarf, but it became clearer when a young human boy suddenly poked his head up from a pile of sleeping furs where he had been dozing, exhausted. His name was Benet, he was 12 years old, and he had been out at the henhouse gathering eggs when his family’s small home had been attacked by “hugh monsters.” He had fled in terror, and then watched from the edge of the forest as his parents and two sisters were dragged out, roped to gather, and marched off into the early morning mists. When the cottage began to burn, he ran for the Khundari outpost – they were subject of the Prince of Dürkon, his soldiers would rescue his family…

And the guard sergeant had leapt into action, although he had dismissed the boy’s description of the culprits as the exaggerated fears of a terrified child; clearly this outrage was the work of the soulless gül-Kobali who had been allowed to fester nearby for far too long! But he knew the shortest way to their stinking den, and he would cut them off before they could reach it, by Gheas!

When the Hand had explained their mission to the elderly caretaker, and revealed that the attackers had almost certainly been gül-Hovgavu, not kobali, he became deeply concerned… Jhundar was not expecting to walk into such a situation…

The group wasted no more time, as speed was now of the essence if they had any hope of saving the human family from becoming supper for Khana and her amazon horde. Leaving Hemdan and Benet safely locked into the outpost, they regrouped with the Kobali outside and began a steady, sustainable jog towards the nest of contention.

As they came near to the entrance to the hive-nest, Metotha indicated they should take cover, as they were close to where sentries might be expected. From the cover of a thick stand of snow-laden evergreens they peered out into the cleared area around the hole in the ground they could see numerous corpses of mutilated kobali, thier blood already pale beneath new snow… and not far from their cover was the severely hacked up and mutilated body of what had to be one of the Khundari outpost guards. Mariala shuddered as the image of the bright red blood on the white snow brought back memories of the killings at Eldora Abbey, almost a year ago…

Gülvini Surface Map

Closer to the opening in the ground another body could be seen, also a dwarven soldier, apparently, and equally dead. It was Jeb who spotted the gülvini lurking in the branches of a tree almost directly over the entrance. He didn’t think it (she?) had seen them yet, and he motioned to Erol, who nodded. They both nocked arrows into their bows, and stepped from their cover to loose them. Erol’s flew wide of the mark, but Jeb’s arrow pierced the creature’s chest almost dead center, and the gül fell almost silently from its perch.

The group moved cautiously forward, warned by Metotha of the ruins of a small tower nearby, where his own tribe was wont to post a guard. As Vulk and the others checked on the fallen sentry, still alive but unconscious, Erol moved past them towards the tower. Bet even as he drew near, there was a sudden blur of movement as the second sentry leapt from behind a crumbling, snow-capped wall onto him. He whirled, bringing his trident up, and the hovgavu nearly impaled herself on its tines. With a twist of the wrist Erol ripped his weapon from her side in a gush of blood, and the creature collapsed in the snow at his feet.

Toran had followed Erol towards the ruined wall, and as he started to say something he caught a movement from the corner of his eye. A third hovgavu sentry was running up from the cover of the forest behind him, mang raised, and he turned to meet the charge, his own battle axe at the ready. But his foot slipped in the snow as he did so, and he staggered, trying to regain his balance… the gül’s blade slid past his guard and bit sharply into his neck.

Even as Toran went down, Erol was leaping forward. Before the deathspawn could move in for a killing blow, his trident had taken her in the gut, and he lifted her off her feet, hurling her body aside with a grunt. The creature was dead before it hit the ground. He knelt at his friend’s side and tried to stop the bleeding, calling as quietly, but urgently, as he could for Vulk.

After a quick examination, Vulk was relieved to see the blade had missed the jugular, if not by much. His healing touch soon staunched the flow of blood to a trickle, and he reached into his scrip to pull out a blue-green ceramic vial.

“It’s Kasira’s own luck that I brought back Draik’s latest Baylorium potion from my last visit to Dür,” he said as he unstoppered the bottle. The yellowish, viscous fluid poured into the wound. “It’s supposed to be particularly good at healing open wounds and blood loss…”

Indeed, even as he watched, the bleeding stopped altogether and the edges of the cut began to move pull in. In less than a turn of the glass the wound had become nothing more than an angry red weal, still a bit tender to the touch, but nothing the grateful Khundari couldn’t live with. He thanked Vulk sincerely, and the cantor just grinned that charming grin of his and said he should really thank Draik!

While Vulk had been tending to the recovery of Toran, the others had secured the area around the entrance to the gülvini hive-nest, and tried to question the two wounded, but now conscious, hovgavu sentries. Unfortunately, they could get nothing more than grunts and hisses around the gags they were forced to use to keep them quiet, and in the end Devrik simply put them out of everyone’s misery. The kobali seemed very pleased at that.

They were less pleased, apparently, during the discussion over their next course of action – when it was suggested a frontal assault didn’t seem too wise, the three kobali erupted in a fierce, but quiet, dispute in the chirps, grunts and hand gestures of their own language. After a moment Metotha silenced the others and sidled up to the humans.

“There a back door,” he admitted. “But not so good… goes right into King’s Chamber… very crowded, probably…” He then proceeded to draw a very rough diagram of the hive-nest in the snow.

This began a spirited debate about splitting the group and investigating the gülvini dispositions from two sides. Toran volunteered to use the illusion charm he’d taken from Arlun Parek to disguise himself as a gül, as much as the thought repelled him, but in the end it was decided that it made more sense for Vulk to attempt the charade. He could use his ritual of tongues to communicate, should that need arise, and he would take Toran and Metotha with him, as his “prisoners;” if it went south, they could all attack if need be.

Vulk studied the face of the dead sentry who had been in the tree, then invoked the amulet… everyone agreed the illusion was uncanny! Everyone except the Kobali, who rolled around on the ground laughing. Metotha was finally able to explain that he wouldn’t fool anyone inside, because he smelled like food, er, that is, an Umantari. Even after Vulk had pulled the dead gül’s clothing on over his own, and rubbed her greasy hair all over himself, the kobali remained dubious that he could fool anyone up close. Maybe from a distance…

In the end they decided they had to risk it, and Vulk lead Toran and Metotha, loosely bound with rope at the wrists and on a leash, into the gülvini nest…  The entrance was little more than a large hole in the ground, leading to a narrow shelf of stone that curved down and to the left over a rushing underground stream. This shelf soon opened into a larger chamber, the cleverly named Entrance Chamber, according to Metotha.

 

From this point on I’m just doing an outline of what I remember, so read it over and e-mail me ASAP, filling in the details you remember… please!

 

They find a lone hovgavu on sentry duty, although she’s occupied looting a dead kobali and doesn’t notice her guests right away.

Vulk lures her closer, she’s suspicious as to why “she” apparently abandoned her post outside, but seems to buy the story of capturing another Khundari spy and a run-away kobali. She gets suspicious again when she’s close and can smell something wrong…

At this point I can’t recall exactly how she was dispatched, only that she drew her weapon and was eventually done in, then the rest of the group came on down… did it require outside help to put down the sentry? I know Korwin cast his shadow spell at some point, so he could be stealthy…

Once everyone was together again the group headed out the southwest exit, following the crude map to the cell where Metotha thinks the captured humans would be.

Vulk creeps forward to check the cell, potentially visible to the three kitchen workers nearby… Toran picked the lock on the cell… I seem to remember Jeb (and Erol?) coming forward and shooting an arrow or two, but I’m fuzzy on the sequence of battle that took out the hovgavu and two kobali females in the kitchen… I know the group preventing anyone from raising the alarm.

Jeb and Cris were then detailed to take the traumatized captives (sans the already butchered husband/father) to the surface and safety, while the Hand continued deeper into the lair.

The group chose the more northern route towards the living areas of the nest, and Korwin went north to the Warrior’s Chamber to see what was up there, and discovered three hovgavu looting the dead kobali’s meagre possessions…

To the south you heard the roar of combat and cheering from the King’s Chamber, and I think it was Vulk who moved forward in his disguise to see the two kobali females being pitted against one another for the amusement of about 15 hovgavu; no sign of Khana. Devrik forced to remind everyone that his fireball is only 10′ in diameter, he can’t take out the whole room!

Vulk (?) checked out the lightly concealed passage leading to the Queen’s Chamber, where he was able to glimpse Khana and hear that she was speaking to at least one other “person.”

With Vulk blocking any view form the larger room, the group snuck into the passage leading to the Queens Chamber, Korwin cast his misty fog spell to obscure vision and muffle sound, and Mariala was left at the entrance to keep an eye on events in the King’s Chamber.

The party leapt to the attack, finding the amazon gül leader with just two of her lieutenants amidst the mostly shattered eggs of the now-dead queen. Again, the precise order of events is fuzzy… I know Vulk manages to slip past Khana and engage one of the lieutenants, doing some damage but not taking her out immediately… Toran and Devrik attack Khana, Erol attacks the remaining gül?

Khana invokes the Axe’s dread power, and somebody (Toran?) faints, while Devrik is unmanned and forced to retreat to the farthest point in the chamber… Khana takes the opportunity to try and flee, Erol tries to stop her, but she again invokes the Axe, and while he isn’t sent fleeing, the dread makes him able to only defend… Korwin attacks as she moves past, with his cutlass, which is broken in half…

Erol recovers quickly (?) and pursues Khana, with Toran close behind… Khana slams into Mariala in the mist… does Mariala block a passing blow, or is it Erol’s immediate arrival that saves her?

Erol & Khana parry blows, she makes it out into the King’s Chamber, Erol still in pursuit, Toran right behind. While all this is going on Vulk is STILL trying to put down his opponent, who refuses to fall despite numerous wounds, and Korwin (?) is attempting to snap Devrik out of his artifact-induced funk…

Eventually they succeed and follow the others out into the Kings Chamber, where Khana has rallied her troops… Erol and Toran are surrounded, trying to get at the leader, Mariala stands back, looking for an opening…

Devrik arrives and cast a fireball into the melee in an attempt to kill or at least wound as many hovgavu as he can; his aim is a bit off and it actually hits Khanna in the back of the head. She takes some damage, as do 5-6 others, only one of which is killed outright by a freak chance (yeah, yeah, I rolled wrong, but what the heck – it was Kasira taking a hand, right?)

The battle rages, Mariala tries her Fire Nerves spell and has a critical failure (or was that earlier, elsewhere?). In any case, she eventually gets off a successful blast at Khanna, taking her down for 7 seconds of screaming agony, and she drops the Axe.

Once she recovers, Khana tries to retrieve the Axe, but fails, and seeing the tide turning, the smoking, pain-wracked leader abandons her troops and heads for the rear entrance. Toran tries to grab the Axe, but fails, and then Erol tries and succeeds. Once it’s in his hands he tosses it to Toran, who invokes it’s fear power against the gals. Two flee after Khana in terror, one or two are only able to defend and can’t attack Toran.

Vulk and Korwin head back north, through the kitchen area, to come in from the south and so behind the remaining hovagvu battling their friends. They meet the two fleeing kobali, who had exited as soon as the hovgavui attention was focused on the invaders – still under his illusion, Vulk sends them running on, avoiding combat; presumably they failed to note the sitll-shadowy Korwin. They come into the battle, Korwin with his frost blade and Vulk sowing confusion looking like the gül’s comrade.

As the battle is winding down the three hovgavu who had been looting in the Warrior’s Chamber try to enter the fray, but are mostly stopped by Metotha, Ghek and Hurjen, who are killed in the attempt. But they take two of the females with them, so only one comes up behind Mariala, who’s in trouble at this point. She draws her dagger (blocks a first blow?), and is save when Devrik (?) leaps to her defense and dispatches the creature.

At this point the few remaining hovgavu are dispatched, the group is spared the moral dilemma of killing Metotha & Co., and the looting begins. The main item of note is a Matrix Crystal attuned to the Yalva convocation, which allows Devrik a +5 bonus to his fire spells.

Gulvini Complex

Aftermath of the Gauntlet of Gheas

In the days following their report to Prince Rhogûn on the ancient, but still dangerous, Gauntlet of Gheas, things once again settled into a routine for the Hand of Fortune. As the Royal Corps of Engineers worked to more permanently seal off the long-forgotten area, Mariala and Vulk returned to tutoring the Prince’s children and their own studies and meditations, Korwin buried himself in developing an interesting new spell he had conceived of during a tavern brawl, while Devrik divided his time between sparring and training with Erol and their Shadow Warrior friends and learning the new spells that he had discovered amongst Arlun Parek’s burned papers.

The suite of rooms the hand had been given by their royal sponsor was large and comfortable, and was ably overseen by Cris and Jeb. Cris had turned out to be not only an excellent squire when needed, but a surprisingly good major domo as well. Jeb, a country farm boy, was less skilled at domestic service, but he was a quick learner and anxious to please. The fact that both young men received arms training from Devrik and Erol perhaps helped to keep them contented, as did the respect Erol paid Jeb when taking longbow lessons from him.

It was during this settling into routine, after months of relative chaos and adventure, that gave Erol time to think about his family. Seeing Draik happily reunited with his brother, so long thought dead, had made him realize that, whatever the anger his father and he had shared over their differing political views, it was past time to let it go. His family certainly thought him long dead, but in the months after his escape from the Taruthani Games he had not really had the time or means to address that… now he had no such excuses.

This realization crystalized for him when the Hand began discussing how best to follow-up on the weapons that the Vortex had been illegally buying from the Khundari. The Republic had been the destination of at least some of those shipments (many others, they had learned from Greatcoffer’s secret records, had gone to other realms, especially the Kingdom of Nolkior). When Devrik had suggested he could lead a quiet mission to Delfarin to investigate, being a native, Erol had jumped at the chance to volunteer as well.

“It’s my homeland as well,” he said enthusiastically, somewhat startling his friends, used as they were to his phlegmatic, stoic demeanor outside of battle. “And it’s time I visited my family, and let them know I am alive and well,” he added, in answer to their looks.

It was soon decided that Devrik and Erol, with Cris and Jeb each acting as squire/batman, would use the nearest Nitaran Vortex, the Ilme Vortex on the edge of the Torvin Marsh, to gate to a known point just outside the Republic’s capital. They debated taking horses, but Devrik felt it would make them more conspicuous on a covert intelligence gathering mission – and if they needed to, they could buy steeds easily enough in the capital. The servants were less than thrilled to learn of this decision, since it meant they’d be humping most of the gear, but kept their comments to the occasional sigh as they packed.

On the morning of 11 Vento the small group bid goodbye to their friends and headed out into a cold, driving rain. It was 25 kilometers to the spot they had to leave the road, and another two kilometers to the vortex site… it was late afternoon before they finally arrived, cold and wet. Even Devrik had begun to regret not riding, and no one was inclined to camp overnight… while the rain had tapered around midday, it had returned as a steady downpour an hour earlier.

After a quick bite of cold sausage and cheese, Devrik began his preparations to summon the portal that would soon lead them to some warmth and comfort. “How far is this roadhouse supposed to be, once we’re on the other side?” asked Erol, pulling his cloak about him tighter and stamping his feet.

“No more than two turns of the glass, I’m told,” his friend responded distractedly. “Now quite, I need to concentrate on this bit…”

A moment later he gave a satisfied sigh, and gestured the others to follow. He stepped forward, into the shimmer in the air that was visible only to him, and vanished. Cris and Jeb were close on his heals, with Erol bringing up the rear. He stepped through –

– and stumbled to a halt as he was hit by a wall of hot, humid air and blinded by intense… sunlight, he realized, shielding his eyes as they slowly adjusted. He felt the familiar “twang” behind the eyes as time seemed to slow down and his perceptions to expand…

His companions stood nearby, faces also scrunched up against the light, hands raised to shield their own eyes. They were on a rocky outcropping that rose from a small clearing of dense green vegetation, like nothing any of them had ever seen. The sun burned hot and bright, almost directly overhead, in a cloudless sky of deep blue. The distant sound of surf could be heard quite clearly over the cacophony of bird calls all around them. He caught flashes of brilliant color amongst the strange… trees?… that must be the birds themselves…

Devrik suddenly staggered and fell to knees, swaying drunkenly, and Cris reached out to keep him upright. Erol knelt in front of his friend and grasped him by the shoulders, peering into his face. “Where are we, Devrik? What’s happened? Are you alright?”

After a moment of dazed incomprehension, Devrik shook his head and his eyes seemed to clear. He leveraged himself to his feet with Erol’s help, and slowly looked around the clearing. “I have… no idea where we are… but clearly, we are not where we should be… Erol, did you “enhance” my casting…?”

“No,” Erol shook his head. “I didn’t think you needed it, and by now I know what it feels like, so I know I didn’t do it involuntarily.”

“Then I’m afraid it was my fault,” Devrik sighed heavily, rubbing his head to sooth the throbbing ache that was growing there. “I knew it was possible, Master Vetaris certainly warned me of it often enough… but we’ve been so successful, I just assumed…” He tapered off in frustrated silence.

“What?” Erol prompted. “Are we lost?”

“Well, yes and no… vortex traveling is not an exact science, not even a precise art… you need to already know the Gate you seek, through previous use, or learn the mental “template” for it. But even under the best conditions, it is entirely possible to miss your target. Which is what I seem to have done.’

His friends looked at one another worriedly at his unusual hesitation and uncertainty.

“I can certainly open this local vortex…” he gestured vaguely at the air around them, “But not soon, by choice, given how crappy I feel just now… that jump really… drained me… but I can open it, and try to get us back. Of course, not knowing exactly where we are… I’m not sure how easy that’s going to be…”

“But don’t you known the, um, the  pattern, or whatever, for the Gate we just left?” Cris asked. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, reverse the process?”

‘It’s… not that simple…” Devrik grimaced as he sat down on a nearby boulder, still rubbing his temples. “The pattern is really two parts… while the pattern for any gate is fixed, the pattern for the gate you’re coming from affects the final… equation… I’ll have to rest and study this vortex, try to learn its pattern…”

“We should probably let the others know what’s up,” Erol sighed, and he began to rummage through the pack that Cris had dropped as soon as he’d been able, looking for the slips of Mariala’s special paper. With a colorful curse he’d learned in the arena, he held up a sodden mass of parchment that instantly began to crumble around his fingers. It seemed there’s been a leak…

It was obvious that Devrik was in no shape to immediately try to open another portal, so Erol took charge and set Cris and Jeb to preparing a camp for the night. Once over the shock of the unexpected, the youths were not at all sad to be out of the cold and rain, and they set about setting things up with enthusiasm. While they were busy and Devrik was resting, Erol hefted his trident and headed towards the sound of surf, cautiously surveying his surroundings as he entered… is this what they call “jungle” he wondered.

A few minutes along what was probably a game trail brought him out of the lush green canopy and on to a beach, whose brilliant white sand contrasted beautifully with the multitude of blue-greens of the ocean that spread to the horizon and the deep blue bowl of the sky above. He stood stunned for several minutes before continuing his exploration…

♦ ♦ ♦

Having determined that they were on a small, and apparently unpopulated, island Erol allowed the boys to enjoy the beach after they’d all eaten, while Devrik slept and he himself kept a wary guard. There may not have been human life on this island, but there was clearly animal life, some quite large, by the signs.

But the rest of the long day passed uneventfully, and when the sun finally went down in spectacular colors, they were all ready for sleep. Devrik was feeling better by then, and volunteered for the first watch. He also used the time to contemplate the nitaran pattern of the local vortex…

The next morning, after a breakfast that included some strange, but delicious fruits none of them had ever heard of, plucked from nearby trees, he was ready to again open a Gate. “I’m aiming for the vortex near Dürkon, though,” he explained to his companions. “It’s too risky to try for a vortex I’ve never been to from one I’ve just encountered.”

No one was inclined to argue with him, and with some reluctance at leaving this lovely clime for a return to rain, sleet and cold wind, his little band prepared to follow him through the invisible doorway he summoned –

– and onto a grassy plain, under a gray sky of high clouds, that stretched from horizon to horizon. A cool wind, which seemed colder than it really was after the tropics, rippled the waist-high grass in the vast patterns of the invisible airs above them.

“Shit!” was all Devrik had to say.

♦ ♦ ♦

And so began an amazing, exhausting odyssey. Over the next several days Devrik lead his small party through Gate after Gate, and not always to locales as safe or as pleasant as the first two… and none of them home…

A forest of evergreens, heavy with snow, and crawling with Gülvini and wolves, neither of  which hesitated to attack these new interlopers…

The ruins of an ancient city, half buried in sand, under a velvet-black sky of blazing stars… in which something no longer alive, but malevolent and intelligent dwelt…

More ruins, covered in ropy vines as thick as a man’s thigh and shadowed by a vast canopy of trees, sunlight filtered into a green twilight, and through which swung strange, almost-human shapes…

A battlefield, where two armies of fierce, sallow-skinned, black-haired, slant-eyed men, mounted on horses armored in overlapping plates of lacquered metal, screamed in an unknown language and hacked at one another in bloody frenzy…

A blizzard of howling winds and blinding snow, so cold a metal blade might crack like glass…

A mountainside high above a dark evergreen forest, and a cave mouth which vented steam, welcome relief after the almost-fatal cold of the blizzard… until the immense reptilian head of an ancient red dragon emerged from the darkness, followed by its seemingly endless body and wings that blotted out the sun…

Finally, on the fourth day, exhausted, battered, frozen and burned, the group found themselves on a rocky islet rising, barely, from the inky black waters of a vast underground lake, or maybe sea… the cavernous ceiling so very far overhead was only visible by the faint glow of some phosphorescent fungi that limned its craggy surface.

“At least there doesn’t seem to be anything around to attack us,” Cris said, plunking a small pebble into the still, black water. As the sluggish ripples spread out Erol clipped him upside the head.

“Idiot! The Immortals alone know what’s lurking down there – and if anything is, now you’ve told it we’re here!”

But his fears seemed unfounded as the minutes ticked by and nothing rose from the depths to devour them. Gradually they all relaxed, and Devrik collapsed on the ground. “Got to sleep… can’t keep up… these multiple…” He was asleep before he could finish the thought.

They were all exhausted, and with no idea if it was day or night it was not long before they all began to drift off. Erol was the last… despite his determination to stay alert and on guard, his eyes eventually drifted shut and he slept deeply on that rocky shingle.

An indeterminable time later, Devrik woke with a start. He had no idea how long he’d slept, but his mind felt clear and refreshed for the first time in days… even if his body felt like he’d been ground between two millstones. He woke the others, they ate the last of their food, and he prepared to summon a Gate once more.

By this time they all expected some fantastic landscape, so it took a moment for them to realize that they recognized this spot. It was the glade in the woods near Dor Dür, and they were home!

It was a ragged but grateful party that collapsed in Ser Alakor’s solar a short time later. An anxious Raven plyed her husband with hot tea and food, while Draik did the same for the others, as they recounted their recent adventures.

It wasn’t until the next day, Erol’s birthday, that Devrik remembered they needed to contact the rest of the Hand, who would be beginning to miss them by now. Fortunately both Raven and Draik had some of Mariala’s special paper, and word was sent off at once…

♦ ♦ ♦

Back in Dürkon, life had gone on as usual after the departure of the Delfarin reconnaissance mission. The first hint that something was not right came the next day, when Mariala checked her collection of special papers, to see if any messages had come in. To her surprise, the papers linked to the ones she’d sent along with Devrik and Erol were a crumbled piles of ragged scraps.

“It’s as if the paper had been soaked,” she told Vulk when he arrived at her summons. “Though it’s as dry as a bone…”

“Does the paper mimic the state of it’s “twin” beyond just the ink?” Vulk asked curiously, examining the ruined parchments.

“I never thought to test it, honestly. Hmmm, let’s see…” She took a fresh sheet and sliced it in half, handing one piece to Vulk and carrying the other over to the fireplace. She tossed it in and watched as the paper blackened and curled.

“Hey!” Vulk yelped as the paper in his hand began to blacken and curl as well. He had expected to feel heat, but the  paper simply charred and then crumbled to gray ash without burning his fingers or giving off any heat at all.

“Fascinating!” Mariala murmured thoughtfully.

It was agreed, once they had informed Korwin and Toran of their experiment, that it was likely the expedition’s parchment had not been stored safely, and had been soaked in the previous day’s rains. There was no reason to believe there was any worse problem, so the matter was dropped, and they went back to their various tasks.

But by the 15th, they began to be concerned again. They had expected the team back the day before, and as the sun set with no sign of the travelers, the worried deepened. By the next day they had all agreed that they needed to follow their friend’s trail and find out what was going on. Vulk told Lekorm Darkeye of their intent as the others made preparations, and it was decided that they would take horses, including Devrik’s & Erol’s.

It was just as she was leaving her study to head to the Outer City and the stables that Mariala noticed writing on one of the parchments she had left with Raven, in Dor Dür. The others were greatly relieved when she told them the missing party was there, and they decided to head out to Dor Dür, since they were already set to travel.

In the brief space allowed by Mariala’s enspelled parchment it had not been made clear what the problem had been, so it was without any concern that Vulk opened the same Gate that Devrik had invoked, to shorten their trip to Dor Dür. Fortunately, nothing went amiss and they arrived to a happy reunion and a chance to belatedly celebrate Erol’s 24th birthday.

Everyone was fascinated by the travelers amazing tales of the places they’d seen and the adventures they’d survived, and it became a bit of a game trying to figure out where they had been. “I’m certain that the battle you saw must have been in Kwan Kar,” Korwin opined confidently. “I’ve read accounts of those Eastern lands, and the people there are described just as you saw.”

But that was the most confidence anyone had in their guesses, which didn’t stop them from making them for many tendays to come. Vulk also rather enjoyed ribbing his friend about his lack of facility with the Gate spell.

“Clearly, Kasira’s ritual for opening a Gate is much superior to the efforts of mere mages,” he kept pointing out, until Devrik began fingering his sword suggestively. And not in a good way.

But it wasn’t Devrik’s implied threats of violence that finally made the cantor regret his humorous barbs…

♦ ♦ ♦

On the 26th Vulk received a letter from his mother, almost two tendays old, telling him that his father was very ill. Over her husband’s objections, she was asking him to come home, in the hopes that his healing touch might help where the physicians had not.

Vulk wasted no time in throwing his kit together, dragooning Cris as his squire, and riding out for the Ilme Vortex that very day. Unfortunately, he didn’t arrive at a spot just a few miles north of Virzon. Instead, he and a tight-lipped Cris found themselves in a large stone chamber, surrounded by a number of Khundari cantors in brown and red robes.

“Oh, not again!” was all Cris said.

They soon learned that they were in the great Khundari city of Karac-Tor, capital of the great Dwarven kingdom known as the United Realms of Karac. Though annoyed at the interruption of their religious ceremony, they were not terribly surprised – it had happened before, the head priest explained, and would no doubt happen again.

A few hours of questioning by the High King’s security, and the travelers were escorted to another nitaran vortex just outside the city, where they were invited to depart. Cris was all for traveling overland, even after Vulk explained the distance involved, over mountain roads, with winter approaching. But in the end he followed the cantor through the next Gate –

– and was pleased when Vulk informed him that they were right where they should be, this time.

The visit to Virzon turned out to be more holiday than crisis – Vulk’s father was already well on the way back to good health, and his son’s ministrations were unneeded. But his presence was greatly appreciated, and their visit was marred only by the minor matter of the murder of a local spice merchant.

Forced to investigate to clear the name of a childhood friend, Vulk and his sidekick soon uncovered a conspiracy by a cabal of wealthy merchants to seize control of the city government. In less than a day they exposed the plot, saw the conspirators arrested, cleared the friend’s name, and were home in time for dinner.

Preparing to return to Dürkon on 2 Glacia, even Vulk was now a little reluctant to risk travel by Gate. But with winter in full swing, overland travel was uncertain and the dangers well known… In the end, they risked the nitaran vortex. But this time there was not hitch, and they arrived exactly where they had hoped to arrive.

Although they had not hoped for the snow that was falling as they made their way back to the City…

♦ ♦ ♦

Again, life returned to normal for the Hand… tutoring, researching, studying, and training. This comfortable pattern continued for almost a ten-day, before it was once more upset. On the afternoon of 10 Glacia the members of the Hand of Fortune were summoned to a meeting with Captain Darkeye and Prince Rhogûn – not in one of the usual audience chambers, offices or studies, but in one of the high dungeons. It seems a Gülvini had approached on of the City’s outposts, bearing the blue spruce branch of truce and an incredible story…