Monthly Archives: June 2014

Aftermath of An Unexpected Betrayal

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The Hand arrived, with Princess Miralda, her hand maiden, the remnants of her guard, the Ladies Thalia and Lania, the Maid Carissa, Raven and the wee baby Aldari… not quite where they had expected.

Vulk’s heart sank as he stepped through the Portal, last of all, and found himself not in the tower chamber of the Gate of Shalara, but in some sylvan glade. Sunlight dappled the ground through the bight green of early summer foliage, apparently about the right time of day – at least they weren’t on the other side of the planet!

“I’ll need a few minutes,” he said to the large cluster of confused people milling about the clearing. “I need to recover some strength before trying again… and we need to know exactly where we are, in any case.”

Erol and Devrik undertook to discover that last, striking out down the obvious path out of the glade. They were back in less than a turn of the glass, with the happy news that they were very near the village of Hask, less than ten kilometers west of the city! They had made arrangements with a local drover, and a wagon and team of horses awaited them, ready to convey the ladies (and Raven and the wee baby Alari) into Shalara. Everyone else would have to walk, with the exception of the most badly wounded.

The journey, while relatively short, was tense and quiet. They passed a larger number of people than would normally be expected on a country back road, apparently worried folk fleeing the city for fear of an invasion. Princess Miralda snorted in derision when she learned of this, and shook her head.

“The betrayal of Yorma – or whoever has taken his place –” she added with a  nod to Lady Thalia, ” was a devastating blow. But Shalara is hardly in immediate danger, and even if it it were, it’s still a far safer bastion from marauding enemy troops than any country manor!”

But she agreed there was nothing she could do to stop the fools, if fools they were determined to be, and sat back with a frown, contemplating future remedies.

They arrived in Shalara in the early evening of the first day of Agras, and went immediately to Kar Landsar. Ser Koris was relieved to see his niece, but shocked and saddened to hear of his nephew’s death. The King was not yet returned to the city, he informed the Princess and her companions, but was expected the next day. He commanded the hand to remain in the castle for the night, so that they would be available to give their report as soon as possible on the monarch’s return. He had no specifics about his brother’s wounds, but wasn’t too worried, as he seemed still to be in command.

“It can’t be too bad,” he assured Miralda. “He’s still issuing orders and seeing to every detail of his army, by all reports, so I expect the rumors are far worse than the reality.”

Indeed, the next morning, when he arrived at the eastern gates with columns of soldiers marching in good order, King Maldan rode into the city at their head mounted on his famous white charger. Relieved crowds throng the streets to see him, and cheered as he nodded gravely to all. He wound through several parts of the city, eschewing the most direct route to Kar Landsar, giving as many people as possible a chance to see him.

But when he was safely back in his palace, and had time to eat and hear the news from his daughter, he summoned the Hand to a meeting that revealed another story.

Seated in a large chair, his left leg propped up on a footstool, Maldan looked pale and in pain. He waved away Vulk’s solicitous offer to examine his injuries with an irritated grimace.

“It’s not all that bad,” he said. “My own physicians have the wound well in hand, they assure me. It was an axe blow from that traitorous cur Yorma, laid open my thigh to the bone! Still, I’d have decapitated the bastard if the tide of battle hadn’t swept us apart the next moment…

“I have heard all that my daughter has to tell me, of her bother’s death and the events at car Urkonis. I have heard the testimony of Lady Thalia, concerning the apparent imposture of her husband, and of Lady Lania as well. Now I wish to hear what you all have to say of these matters.”

The King listened for almost an hour as the Hand recounted the events of the last several days, only occasionally interrupting to ask for clarification on some point or probe deeper into a statement. When they had brought the story up to their arrival in Shalara he sat back with a sigh and brooded for a few moments.

“Well, you did all that you could,” he said at last. “It is not your fault that you could not save my son; and if you violated my instructions by taking my daughter through a Nitaran gate, well, it seemed you had little choice. I thank you for your service.”

With that it seemed the audience was over, and the Hand were ushered out of the room, free at last to return to their homes.

♦ ♦ ♦

Raven was suitably impressed by her husbands new mansion… she’d seen enough of civilized life now to recognize its value. It was still in the middle of a city, but there seemed nothing to be done about that, and she looked forward to seeing the country manors he – they – had also acquired. But there was no time for that now, and in any case her main concern was for her brother Black Hawk. Killed in the battle at the inn in Athon’s Grove and resurrected by Vulk thereafter, he had been left in the care of the inn folk. To her relief Mariala was able to assure Raven, through the agency of her magical papers, that Draik had arrived from Dor Dür to oversee her brother’s recovery, and that he should be up and about very soon.

The next several days were spent by the members of the Hand in ordering their new homes, studying and practicing the various arts on which their lives depended, and eagerly seeking all the news of what was going on in the east and the north. Kar Vinkara and the Earl of Kinen remained cut off and under siege, but showed no signs of falling. News from the captured eastern lands was sporadic, but seemed to show no particular bent of the invaders to more than the usual rapine and pillaging… indeed, less than might be expected, as if they expected to be in possession of the lands permanently and therefore not wishing to despoil them unduly. News from the rebel fortress of Yormashire was scant indeed, even to rumor.

One story that seemed to buoy the spirits of the city was that of the Princess Miralda, and her heroic leading of her troops into battle at Dor Lorethal, breaking the siege and providing the one success of that terrible day. Her mystique was only enhanced by her subsequent capture by, and escape from, the traitor Earl of Yorma, bringing out with her the Earl’s betrayed wife as well as the wife and doughtier of the brave Earl of Kinen. The Hand’s role in these events was seriously downplayed, to the chagrin of some and the amusement of others.

“No doubt it is the desire of the Crown to do everything they can to enhance the Princess in the eyes of the people,” Vulk said when Korwin complained about the lack of credit over dinner one evening. “She is the Heiress now, and the last thing this country needs is another Succession Crisis should, Immortals forfend, anything happen to the King.”

“Yes,” agreed Mariala, “I imagine Maldan will try to get Miralda recognized by the Landsar Succession Council, as he did for his son, before he goes into battle again. Anything that makes her popular with the people can only help in that regard.”

And the Princess’ popularity did index seem to be riding high, at least with the people of the capital. With the King’s return, and the safety of the new Heiress, the number of people leaving the city slowed, and even reversed itself as many of those who fled early returned quietly and red-faced.

On the seventh of the month the Hand was summoned to Kar Landsar at noon, where they found themselves among a large throng of nobles and gentry, all summoned to hear the official proclamation of the Princess Miralda as the Heir Apparent and Crown Princess. Apparently Maldan had forced this through the Council, who must still be worried about another crisis in the midst of a war. The people seemed generally in favor of this announcement, what murmuring there was centered more on her age than her gender. But even that seemed muted in the face of her apparent martial abilities and sharp wits.

As they were preparing to leave the castle after the ceremony, the group was discreetly intercepted by one of the upper servants of the King’s household, who asked them to follow hi, at the King’s command. They were once again brought into the small study cum audience chamber where they had last seen the ruler. His leg was again hoisted onto a cushioned footstool, although he seemed less in pain today than previously. The Crown Princess stood beside him, and ranged about the room were his brother Ser Koris, several Court officials, and a dour-looking Khundari in rich robe. The King wasted no time getting down to the matter at hand.

“We wish you to undertake an embassy for us,” he began as soon as they had made their courtesies. “Specifically, We wish Cantor Ser Vulk to act as Our envoy to his own king, Dorikon IV of Arushal, in seeking an alliance 0f Our two realms against the threat of this mysterious Vortex.

“You are ideally suited to this task, not only by reason of your being a subject of Arushal, but because of your close personal involvement in many of the events that have led us to what little is known of this Vortex. Who better, along with your companions, to convince Our brother ruler and his advisors of the true nature of the mutual danger we face? We are also led to understand that you are not unknown to certain noble elements of the Arushali Court, including the King’s own brother.

“In addition, We have recently made treaty with Prince Rhogûn of Dürokon, in common cause against this foe. Ambassador Ghervin Stonefoot,” and here he gestured at the grave Kundari, “has a similar writ for Toran Quickhand, to act as envoy for their own ruler, and help bring Arushal into this alliance.

“Your writ is not to return with a treaty, of course, but to convince Dorikon that he should meet with Us as speedily as possible – I propose the Arushali border fortress of Vandol as the best place for our conference, but We are open to any other suggestions he or his people might make. But time is of the essence. Do you accept this mission on Our behalf, Ser Vulk, Lord Toran?”

When they had made their acceptance, the King continued. “We are placing at your disposal the royal warship HMS Kestrel, one of the mightiest of Our fleet. In international diplomacy, it does not do to introduce the uncanny – and it is best for Our own prestige that Our envoy is seen to arrive in style and power, not skulk into Lothkir unnoticed!

“The ship sails on the dawn tide tomorrow. Our Chancellor has your credentials and the official documents of proposal for the Conference of Vandol; Lord Stonefoot has similar documents for Lord Toran. May the Immortals smile upon you and bless this endeavor!”

 

 

An Unexpected Betrayal

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The story of the retrieval of the Princess, her subsequent capture by enemy forces, the revelation that the enemy was the Earl of Yorma (apparently under the control of, or replaced by, the Vortex), and the eventual “rescue” and escape from Kar Urkonis will be forthcoming, when the chronicler has a spare hour or two.

In the meantime, look to Erol’s journal entry, under the “Private Lives” category, for one Kildoran, ex-gladiator, ex-pirate, hardened warrior’s take on the events…

Erol: Journal Entry #1

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From Errol’s Journal: Long has it been since I have used the writing skills that were beaten into me in my youth- the skills that I despised and walked away from.

But now that I own a home (a home!) it is time for me to record some of the wondrous things that I have seen and indeed been an crucial part of – so that the children I will someday have shall know, even if I have been slain, of the adventures their father was on.

I will start with my most recent adventures. For some time now I have been with a cohort of companions known as the “Hand of Fortune,” a rather ungainly group of fighters and practicers of mystic arts, engaged in somewhat freelance adventures. There is more to this group than I know, and of much of what I do know, I dare not put down on this vellum.

The Hand are mostly a stalwart bunch. Since I have joined them, naturally they have looked to me for guidance, but I largely have refused, except in extremis. While it is clear that my fighting skills and combat experience are far superior to any of theirs, we are dealing with mystic elements and political intrigue that is far beyond my ken, and beyond the intrigues I knew in the Republic.  I leave such things for those who do not feel sullied by wading through gülvini droppings.

I have been in this barbarous land for far too long, but there have been rewards for my punishment –I have a handsome home now, gifted me by the Crown for some small services that I, with the help of the rest of the Hand, performed. Though how I will be able to pay for this home… is this a different kind of manacle from those of the Arena?

Recently the petty kings of this area have been involved in starting equally petty wars. Naturally this is an opportunity for someone with my skills.  War has broken out and we were sent off to rescue the local prince. We traveled by rather marvelous ways to Dor Lorethal, only to find that the prince was dead. But the princess was alive, so all was not totally lost.

Turns out she was rather soldierly, and had led an attack herself that probably had saved the keep. The King had requested that I and the Hand take no mystic short cuts back with his children, deeming them unsafe, but as it turned out, those mystic ways would have been the safer alternative. But as requested, the Hand escorted the Princess, along with a troop of her own soldiers, led by a guard captain who was clearly incompetent (and of whom I was deeply suspicious), along the rutted tracks they call roads, toward Kar Urkonis.

We stopped for the night at some small hamlet en route.  The name eludes me, but the local peasants loved to prat on about the no doubt home-spun hero who lent his name to this wide spot in the road.  I feared that there might be some attempt on the Princess here, and chose to spend the night outside the wayside tavern, where I would not be trapped. The mage Korwin chose to join me. (As an aside, this man can talk incessantly…. I was tempted to gag him so I could sleep… but at least he does not snore like the cantor does).

At dawn, after an uneventful night,  we awoke and broke our little camp. As we did so we were suddenly alerted by the sounds of horses and hushed commands from the direction of the inn. When I scouted the situation, I estimated that there were over 100 soldiers, heavily armed and on horseback, taking up positions around the building.  Since Devrik was in there (he is capable with a his sword, though he takes far too many risks in battle; in the Arena fighters such as he were admired… for the short time they lived) along with Mariala (a remarkable woman – the most dangerous person in the group, after myself) I assumed they would certainly be able to hold the inn, at least until I was ready.

Unfortunately,  things in the inn spun out of control before my ambush was in place –the ruffians kidnapped the Princess and were about to abscond with her! Korwin, implementing his part of the ambush, miscast his ice spell, thereby exposing us to the enemy and almost getting us killed.

I hate magic.

Which leads me to another aside – the mages and the cantor seem to think of me as a good luck token, and seem to prefer to have me near them when they cast particularly challenging spells or rituals or such. I humor them – I have no interest in understanding their mysterious arts, but if my presence gives them more confidence, then it is only to our troop’s benefit. Though apparently my presence was not enough that day for Korwin’s spell casting – neither this time nor later, when he managed to inebriate himself.

I hate magic.

The troop, with their prisoners in hand, rode off leaving us behind.  After we gave a brief pursuit – realizing that the Khundari  was disguised as one of the soldiers – we decided to use certain mystic means to reach their supposed destination before them.  I dare not describe these esoteric matters herein, but suffice it to say that we did arrive ahead of them. In the dungeons of Kar Urkonis.

The story after that is both fantastic and yet mundane. Being the quietest among our group (that sneaky Khundari being in hiding with the enemy soldiers), I scouted the dungeons out and devised a plan, eagerly adopted by the others, of how we would rescue the Princess when she was brought to the dungeon.

The plan did not go entirely as planned, however, as the Princess was not actually brought down… but her captured escort troops were!  I quickly dispatched most of the guards, with some slight assistance from the others, and freed the Princess’ loyal troops. While they provided a distraction, myself and the rest of the Hand went in search of the Princess herself. In this my little furry companion Grover proved his skills, to the amazement of the others, by quickly sniffing out the location of the dwarf, and once we found him we were able to find our royal charge – who was in the process of rescuing herself.

Once we had the Princess and her party in our care, we sought to extricate ourselves from the castle – clearly from the sounds of the battle outside, I knew that our loyalists were not doing well.  As we sought our escape, however, we were confronted by the Earl Yorma  – but with the voice of another and a sudden ability to cast vile spells to prevent our escape!

Acting, as usual, more quickly than the rest of the Hand (ah how I love those moments in battle when time seems to just slow down for me and everyone appears to be moving as though wading through mud), I threw a javelin at the deranged Earl, which he flicked aside, as I charged to attack him.  Foul vines erupted from the floor as I approached the Earl, entangling my legs, but leaving my arms free to engage the renegade nobleman. The Earl parried my first trident jab with his arm, and I knew then that this was no ordinary man – my trident should have pinned his arm to the wall!

Quickly I switched to wielding my net, and with the satisfying hum of a roused bee hive and with the shocking power of the electric eel, my net entangled his sword, giving him a jolt that he would not soon forget!

Grover ran to my side and attacked the vines entangling me, even as I continued with my vigorous attack on the Earl. It was thrust and parry for several minutes until finally, with a particularly deft strike from my trident, I felled the turncoat Earl. The rest of the Hand helped too.

As always in situations like this, I made a point of praising them for whatever slight contributions that they might have made, and shrugged off their profuse praise of my own battle acumen and prowess.  I learned as a gladiator the value of praising those of lesser talents. You never know when you’ll need lion fodder…

After that the mages in our group removed us from Kar Urkonis, and back to the capital of this little country, and I had the opportunity to return to my new home (while I may hate magic, traveling by mystic means is damned convenient, and  is something the mages do well. Usually).

Jeb has been working on my home in my absence, having a secure and concealed lockbox installed inside my sleeping chamber, along with setting up an archery range on the roof.  Our neighbors are not very pleased by the range…..I have had complaints that Jeb apparently has missed the targets and startled a comely maid or two… knowing Jeb’s skill I suspect that he is just introducing himself.

I will stop now – I must go to the baths to get clean and civilized again… as well as one can in such a land as I am currently exiled in. Oh how I miss decent food, prepared the way the Immortals intended food to taste.

And I need to decide soon the questions that burdens my soul now…  Shall I send for my family? Will they come if i do? Or should I go to the Republic for them, explain things in person?