Kicking the Hornet’s Nest

Thanks to Taeland’s knowledge of the enemy capital, along with judicious use of Mariala’sWallflower spell and Korwin’s concealing mists, the Hand had little trouble infiltrating Zhuran. The Nitarin Gate had deposited the group some 10 kilometers outside the city walls, in a dark grove of pine trees, as the autumn sun was sinking towards late afternoon. They had waited until that hour both to give Korwin more time to recover from his psionic shock and so as to enter the city near dusk, using the confusion and bustle of the day’s end to increase the odds of going unnoticed.

They reached Master Vetaris’ safe house just as the last of the sunlight disappeared from the sky. The edifice in question was a rambling and rather ramshackle townhouse which, like the neighborhood around it, had seen better days. But by a quirk of urban geography it was, in fact, not very far from the Royal Castle as the crow flies.

A young man answered Mariala’s knock, smiling at the sight of the nine adventurers on the doorstep. He was of medium height and medium build and medium looks – except for his piercing hazel-golden eyes and shining silver hair. He wore a black traveling cloak over a snowy white shirt and charcoal gray breeches, and black leather calf boots.

“You must be the Hand of Fortune I’ve heard so much about,” he said, smiling diffidently. “Master Vetaris is expecting you, of course… you’ll find him in the study, just down the hallway, second door on the left.”

He stepped aside to let them enter as he pulled gray gloves from his belt and began tugging them on. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me on the way out,” he said, “but I look forward to a fuller acquaintance soon.” With a friendly nod he slipped out into the rising mists of the rapidly cooling night, pulling the door shut behind him.

The friends looked at each other in surprise at this odd half-meeting, then shrugged, shook their heads and followed the fellow’s directions to their mentor. A soft rap on the indicated door elicited a muffled “come in!” from a familiar voice.

Kiril Vetaris sat at a large, paper-strewn desk, practically enthroned on an ornately carved chair of gilt and deep red velvet. Like the house and the other furnishings visible, the desk appeared old and rather shabby, while the chair’s gilt was flaking off in places, its velvet worn and faded. But both seemed comfortable and homey, as did the room itself.

Bookshelves lined two walls, large mullioned windows a third, and a great stone-carved fireplace, radiating warmth and flickering light across the room, filled much of the fourth. Candles burned brightly in wall sconces and on the desk, adding their bit to the golden glow that filled the space.

“It is wonderful to see you again, my young friends,” Vetaris said as he rose to greet them. His iron gray hair looked a trifle longer than usual, and there were dark circles under his eyes, but his energy seemed the same as ever – solid, reliable and quite irresistible. He motioned them all to find seats around the room, and pointed Jeb and Therok to the kitchen, suggesting they prepare refreshments after they’d stowed the groups gear in the various upstairs bedrooms.

As soon as the two non-Star Council affiliated men had left the Gray Mage muttered a few words and gestured toward the door… they all felt the subtle shift that indicated a Ward of Silence had been placed on the room.

“Now, down to business,” the older man said, reseating himself in the ornate chair once everyone had found their own chair, settee, ottoman or, in Devrik’s case, the hearth. “I apologize for jumping right in, without giving you time to refresh yourselves after traveling, but from Mariala’s notes, I gather our business is urgent.”

“Indeed, sir, we think it is,” Mariala agreed. “It’s been an exhausting, but very productive two tendays. And it’s possible we may be in a position to bring down the Vortex once and for all!”

She then launched into a recounting of their adventures since leaving Dürkon, with each of the other members of the Hand taking their turn to flesh out the story. They recalled how they learned of a mysterious Umantari woman who was spreading a new death cult amongst the gülvini of the southern Savage Mountains, of the moves orchestrated by this woman to united the various colonies, and of some other element that was uniting the barbarian tribes.

They recounted the various clues they’d picked up, as well as the magical artifacts and critical documentation, and most tellingly, the robes and golden mask of the “Golden One,” leader of the Vortex. They told the tale of Karina and what she’d told them of the powerful mage who had mentally enslaved her for years, how she was one of ten “Pawns” the woman controlled, and of Karina’s death at the hands one she’d wronged…

“Wait!” Master Vetaris interrupted suddenly. “Did you say the master of this organization is a woman named Avira?”

“Yes, we believe so,” Vulk replied. “All the evidence leads to that conclusion, and Karina’s deathbed confession would seem to clinch the matter.”

“Did she describe this woman? Did she say how old she was?” Vetaris leaned forward intently, his brow drawn down and his eyes intent. “Any… identifying marks?”

“No, she never got to that much detail, unfortunately,” Devrik answered grimly. “She was murdered before she could speak further.”

“What we did learn,” Mariala again took up the thread as Master Vetaris sat back again, although he continued to look pensive, “was that this Avira uses various alias’ in numerous places around the region. Most were merely implied in the writings I’ve read so far. But two were named specifically: Sylene Defarok and Restala Kuruin.

“The first is a highly skilled and successful litigator in Shalara –VulkDevrik and I have all heard of her, though we’ve never seen her.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the name myself,” Vetaris murmured thoughtfully. “Although I, too, have never actually laid eyes on the woman – said to be in her forties, however, if I recall correctly.”

“The second alias is that of an itinerant mendicant of Kalos,” Mariala continued, “who apparently likes to team up with adventuring groups who are going out into the wilds, seeking Necromancer-related documents or artifacts… given which, I’m surprised she never tried to join the Hand, actually.”

“There was also a confirmation in the writings that Avira is, indeed, the head of the Vortex,” Vulk offered, pulling the relevant sheets from saddlebag at his feet. “From these I gather that she founded the organization a little over twenty years ago.”

Vetaris took the pages and scanned them, his lips tightening and his facing going suddenly pale. “You said you recovered several items from Avira’s chambers at Rekorgo, yes? Are they here?” His voice was tight and Mariala thought his hand shook slightly as he laid the papers on his desk.

“Yes,” she said, reaching into her own saddlebag. “This is a heavily cyphered and magically warded scroll that appears to be a list… I think possibly of her main Vortex agents, her plants and spies throughout the kingdoms of the North? Or it could just be a list of ingredients for her famous hot pot soup. Who knows? Not I, certainly.”

Her mentor took the scroll as well and examined it closely for several minutes, growing paler and more distracted looking as he did so. He finally set it down with the papers and motioned them to continue.

“We recovered a bunch of other papers and journals,” Korwin said, when Mariala didn’t immediately speak. “But they mainly seemed to be about Karina. She was known as Karina the Mask, apparently, and although I thought she looked to be in her twenties, she was really closer to 35.

“And that beautiful, innocent look was a lie; she was really quite twisted. Though that maybe wasn’t all her fault… at age 14 she was given to the Zelistan Order of the Crimson Veil, where she rose from acolyte to trained assassin and assistant to their Mistress of Treasures (a keeper of artifacts, I think). They found her useful because she was a highly skilled Sensitive, able to detect magic and psioncs around her; she was also seemed to have been strongly clairvoyant.

“Ten years ago she was mentally enslaved by this Avira, who laid a powerful enchantment on her. She became her “willing” accomplice in stealing powerful artifacts from her Order and passing them on to her new mistress. She was eventually caught, of course, and expelled from the Order. She became Avira’s agent in finding and procuring other artifacts of power, as well as her proxy in the slow seduction and suborning of the mountain gülvini.

“When she wasn’t busy spreading the Vortex’sDeath God Cult amongst the gülvini, she spent time in the great cities of the Ukali Basin, seducing local Zalik-mal and using them to help her steal the magical devices she sniffed out, then killing her accomplices and moving on.

“Jardath Genora, the so-called merchant we met, and his gang were her latest “victims.” They helped her steal half a dozen artifacts from the wealthy and powerful here in Zhuran. One of these was a… a very ugly ring… disturbing to look upon for long…” Korwin broke off, rubbing his temples and looking a bit green.

Giving his friend a sardonic smirk, Devrik took up the tale. “When she slipped the ring onto her left thumb, apparently the only finger it came close to fitting, her whole outlook changed. The enchantment Avira had used to control her instantly went dormant, and her own psionic Sensitivity let her sense it upon herself.

“She was enraged, and filled with revulsion and regret at the things Avira had made her do, most especially her seducing of men and her expulsion from the Order of the Crimson Veil. She swore to make the old bitch pay. She believed the Ring of Dominion, as she called it, to be an Ancient artifact… a fact I believe Korwin here has confirmed, eh?”

Vetaris had listened with a distracted air to all of this, and now he waved it off with an impatient hand.

“There were other items beside this ring, yes? What were they?” His intensity was beginning to worry Mariala, and even the others were being to grow uncertain about what was going on.

Toran pulled the jeweled box of burnished rosewood, lined with blue velvet and containing a multi-compartmented tray, from his own bag and set it on the table. Vetaris examined it briefly, then merely grunted and set it down.

Korwin produced the wand of tarnished silver and blue crystal, which garnered a longer inspection by the Gray Mage but was ultimately also set aside.

But when Mariala reached into her bag again and this time removed the exquisite figurine of a dryad carved from jade and set on an ebony base, Vetaris‘ reaction was electrifying. He leapt up and snatched the object from her hands, staring at it as if in shock, his face gone bloodless.

Collapsing bonelessly back into his chair he looked dazed and, more frightening to Mariala, uncertain; something she’d never seen in him before. Whatever the crisis, he had always been calm… and had always, always had a plan. Now he just stared at the jade figurine with blank, uncertain eyes.

Everyone was so shocked by this development that for a few moments no one spoke or moved. But eventually Mariala reached across the desk and laid her hand on the older man’s trembling one.

Master Vetaris?” she said hesitantly. “Kiril… are you alright? What does this mean? Do you know this statue?”

His eyes slowly rose to hers, and then closed. He gripped her hand, and after a moment his face hardened and when he met her gaze again his old resolve seemed to have returned. Although he still looked pale and very weary.

“Yes, my dear, I do know this statue… very well indeed.” He released her hand and reached out to it, grasping the top of the base and twisting it a quarter turn to the right. Immediately a beautiful, hauntingly sad melody filled the study, and the dryad began to slowly turn, pale green lights playing across it like dappled sunlight through spring leaves.

“This was my master work, on becoming a Vendari for the first time… a music box, which plays whatever tune most suites the mood of the person who starts it. I gave it, afterwards, as a gift – to my mother. A powerful Gray Mage herself, she always treasured this gift above all others I gave her.”

“But how did Avira come to possess it,” Erol asked, puzzled.

“I told you,” Vetaris smiled grimly. “I gave it to her. My mother’s name was… is… Avira.”

♦  ♦  ♦

It took several minutes for the confusion of questions, shouts and expressions of shock to subside, but the chaos actually seemed to steady Master Vetaris, allowing him to slip back into his accustomed role of mentor and teacher. By the time he had everyone calmed down and ready to listen, Jeb and Therok returned with the refreshments.

Gesturing at the doors, Vetaris opened a hole in his Ward and called for the two to enter. After they’d laid out the pastries and hot chocolate and been sent off again to their own pursuits, and the Ward of Silence reestablished, he settled in to tell his tale to his rapt audience.

“My mother was considered one of the greatest Gray Mages of the past century, and I was a child of her middle years – her only child, in fact. I was born in her 45th year, the same year she was elevated to become one of the Eleven. She had worked as a trusted associate to the Star Council for years, and had certainly earned her place on it.

“I, of course, knew nothing of this as a child. Despite her power and her responsibilities, she was a good mother, withal… if I didn’t see as much of her as a child might wish, when we were together it was… magical. I naturally followed her into the study of the arcane, once I was old enough and my affinity for the T’ara was obvious.

“When I was 30, and well on my own way to becoming a Gray Mage, Mother recruited me as an associate of the Star Council, much as I have done with most of you… and others, over the years. Over the years I advanced in trust and responsibility, not just with my mother but with other Councilors, and I began to see strains behind the apparent harmony of the Eleven. And my mother was one of the largest causes of that strain.

“Over the decades Avira had come to believe that the Council’s policy of working behind the scenes, wielding indirect political and social power, was a mistake. She was convinced that one day Naventhül would regain its freedom and his demon hordes would easily overwhelm mortal kingdoms grown soft. She began advocating for direct military intervention in the kingdoms of the North, and even as far as Tur Kovan, to bring them all under the rule of the TelnoriHigh King of Serviar, and head of the Star Council, King Kelabin.

“While her ideas were not universally shared, there was enough difference of opinion to keep the matter alive in the Council’s debates. And she did succeed in getting them to back the exiled King Balen I of Tharkia, allowing him to regain his throne. But when the man immediately turned around and repudiated his oath to King Kelabin, it was a death blow to Mother’s plans.

“It was at this time, I think, that she became disillusioned with the Council, realizing they would never heed her warnings. But it wasn’t until 2997, while researching the deep archives at Kar Tinterhal, that she… changed. I believe it was there that she discovered an old manuscript written by Kolbarn Menhalth, one of Vindus Pürshok’s chief lieutenants – and one of the few to survive his defeat and death. It was from decoding this document that she came to certain conclusions concerning the methods the Necromancer used to create the gülvini… and to control them.

“It was then that she began actively planning how best to bring about the revival of the Necromancer’s empire, with herself at its head – the only way to ensure humanity’s long-term survival, she claimed. To this end she began researching Xavar’nai spells that would cause the caster to be seen as a divine or semi-divine being, along with powerful mind-control techniques.

“It was two years later, in the autumn of 2999, that I… I stumbled upon my mother’s research, and her plans. I confronted her, and she tried then to suborn me to her cause… a path I refused. Then…”

Vetaris looked every bit his 70 years as he paused, appearing to gather his will before continuing.

“And then she attempted to mind-control me.” The bald assertion hung in the air, and all of the Hand averted their gaze from the pain in his face.

“I managed to resist her power, but it was a near thing. In the end I escaped, and fled to the Star Council… as much as it hurt me, I had no choice but to denounce my own mother to them, and reveal her plans, insofar as I understood them. She was summoned to answer my charges before the Council, a summons she refused.

Avira Vetaris was declared renegade, and six Gray Mages went to confront her and bring her back in chains to stand trial. But they were too late… her home and sanctums were all abandoned, her papers and most prized possessions gone, and no trace of herself to be found. A watch was kept for several years, but she was 95 years old when she vanished, and not in particularly good health… it has long been assumed that she died somewhere in the wilderness, attempting to carry out her last experiments.

“And in time, I took her place on the Star Council, and have been attempting to make up for her foolish ideas ever since. Yes, yes, my young friends, no need to look surprised – although I see not all of you are surprised – I am not merely an associate member of the Council, but one of the Eleven. I trust you’ve had enough experience with us to understand my reticence, yes? But now the time for caution is past, so all cards on the table, eh?”

“In any case, it appears Avira not only survived, but thrived. If the golden-masked person you met under that volcano last year was truly her, then she has also found a way to revitalize herself dramatically.” He shook his head, looking stricken. “The only way I know of to do that, to the extent she appears to have done, involves the blood… and death… of a Telnori. Unless she’s found another way for a 115 year-old Umantari to pass as in the prime of life…”

“Illusion, perhaps?” volunteered Mariala, uncertainly.

“We’ve fought her, Mariala,” Devrik said regretfully. “You know she didn’t move in any way like a frail, elderly woman. And we did some damage, too – no human at 115 could’ve taken a fraction of what we dished out, male or female.”

“In any case,” Master Vetaris went on with a sigh, “the job before us today is to determine how best to stop her, once and for all. You’ve already put a major dent in her operation, but I doubt it will completely forestall her ultimate plan for long. I agree with Devrik that now is the time to strike… let us go over what you’ve recovered, and see how best we might do that…”

The rest of the evening was spent learning all they could of Avira and her Vortex operation, and trying to determine who the other nine or ten mind-controlled “Pawns” scattered about the landscape of the North might be. Master Vetaris also took the time to examine each of the artifacts they’d recovered and figure out their purpose and/or power.

Toran’s beautiful bejeweled rosewood box, with the blue velvet lining and the divided tray inside, proved to be Yalina’s Lunch Box. Invoked by laying a hand on the box and uttering its command word, when the lid was then opened the tray inside would be filled with a hearty meal, large enough for one person of reasonable appetite. The food was entirely random, with cuisines from around the world appearing in no apparent pattern. If the invoker was attuned to the Box, then the meal would match her or her tastes, even if they didn’t recognize the specific items; un-attuned invokers would take pot-luck, although the food would always be nourishing and healthful. It can be invoked once a day, and its Neutral magic can be recharged by a mage of high enough skill.

Korwin’s wand of tarnished silver and blue crystal proved a tougher nut to crack. Its power was clearly of his own Avikori convocation, but the precise nature of that power was unclear, even to the Gray Mage. He was certain, however, that once Korwin attuned himself to it the wand would give him its Word of Command. Unfortunately that attunement was going to take a little longer than it might otherwise, thanks to the water mage’s ongoing psionic shock symptoms.

Erol’s dark green hooded cloak, trimmed with elaborate tracings of bronze thread and a simple bronze neck clasp really caught Master Vetaris’ attention.

“You say a thief from Zurhan was wearing this?” he asked in amazement.

“Yes,” Erol replied. “He apparently used it in his “professional” capacity, to improve his chances during burglaries. Therok took it off his body, after Karina knifed the poor sod, and since it was too long for our barbarian friend I convinced him to trade it for a particularly fine sword I’d, um, liberated from a dead mercenary.”

It turned out the cloak was a moderately famous one, the Cloak of Narantal, created by the Telnori mage of that name. With the hood drawn up and the Command Word invoked, the cloak made its wearer completely undetectable by any visual means, from ultravision through heatvision. Of course, if the wearer wished to himself see, the face must needs be exposed, at least from directly in front, providing a small chance of being noticed.

Narantal disappeared in the Savage Mountains almost 150 years ago,” Vetaris said, rubbing the thick serge speculatively. Both fabric and decorations looked brand new. “It’s rumored the cloak had other powers, as well, but what those might be I don’t know. And how a thief came to possess it must be a fascinating tale… through I’m afraid we may never learn it.”

As for the Ring of Dominion, the Gray Mage fingered it dubiously after Mariala somewhat reluctantly handed it over, although he made no move to slip it on a finger. The dull silvery metal and the large polished but uncut purple gem clearly had as unsettling an effect on him as it had on others who held it.

“Yes, this ring stinks of the Ancients,” he said at last, setting it on his desk. He surreptitiously rubbed his fingers on his tunic. “It’s never certain with these artifacts – and you do seem to have a positive knack for stumbling across such things –  but if I had to guess I’d say it is malfunctioning in some way. I would be very wary of using it; and if you chose not to attune to it, Mariala – and I do advise against it – then I think you should leave it here when you go after my – after Avira. She’s quite powerful enough without this in her possession!”

“Yes, that’s the problem,” Mariala said, picking up the ring. “I’ve been controlled by this ring, and if your – if Avira’s mental powers are anything like this, then we don’t stand much chance against her. Unless I can learn to wield this – it broke her control over Karina, so maybe it is strong enough to control Madame Vortex in turn.”

“Possibly,” Vetaris agreed reluctantly. “But as for Avira’s mental powers, I think I can provide you with some protection in that area. That is only one of her powers, however – don’t forget that she is a very powerful Gray Mage, and has many forces at her command. If the opportunity arises… strike fast, strike hard, and offer no mercy. You may be sure she shall offer you none!”

All the next day was spent in further contingency planning, attuning to various artifacts, and resting. Korwin recovered enough to at least begin the attuning process with his new wand, while Erol had no trouble at all attuning to his cloak. Vulk was already attuned to the Amulet of Fire Protection he’d obtained earlier, and the magic rope needed no such effort to use. Taeland was officially inducted as an operative of the Star Council, receiving his own ring.

Toran had no time to waste attuning to his magical lunch box, being intent doing maintenance on his weapons and practicing his combat spells. He did, however, enjoy a midday meal of some sort of tentacled, pickled seafood, garlic- and butter-drenched snails, and a fruit salad, of which half the fruits were unknown to him.

Mariala spent much of the day in meditation with the Ring of Dominion, and by evening she had successfully attuned to it. She was tempted to try it out, perhaps on Korwin, but she took Master Vetaris’ warnings about its unpredictable nature to heart and would wait until it was needed… bedsides, who knew how much energy remained in it? She wished there was time to get her Amulet of Water Elemental Control recharged… a water elemental would certainly distract the old woman!

After the evening meal that night the Hand once again gathered in the study, along with Mater Vetaris and the mysterious young man they’d briefly met on their arrival, who turned out to be another of his agents.

“Allow me to formally introduce you all,” the Gray Mage began, as everyone again found seats around the cozy room. “This is Haplo Marikilo, a kalori  of the Valuru convocation, who has been instrumental in helping my efforts here in Tharkia, trying to end this foolish war of Laravad’s.”

Everyone in turn introduced themselves to the striking young man, and both Vulk and Erol seemed to find him fascinating, if for somewhat different reasons. Once the niceties were attended to, their mutual mentor pulled out a long, thin box of polished ash. Inside were eight silver amulets on silver chains.

“It took some doing, but I managed to get 10 of these together in time, with the help of the rest of the Star Council. I’ve already given Jeb and Therok theirs, before sending them off to finish the packing.”

He offered the box to each person in the room, and each removed one of the pieces of jewelry. Haplo took the last one, looking a little surprised, and Vetaris set the now empty box aside.

“These amulets will give you some protection against both telepathy and mental attacks, especially those involving attempts at mind-control. Haplo, I’m giving you one as well because we’ve finally got you an entrée into the Royal Castle, now that “King” Laravad has returned… I’m taking no chances on your being discovered by any Vortex agents who might be lurking about.”

After some final instructions on possible ways to counter the powers Avira might bring to bear, Master Vetaris poured them each a glass of the good port and they toasted to the success of both missions. Then it was time for an early bed in anticipation of a long day ahead tomorrow…

♦  ♦  ♦

Early the next morning Master Vetaris accompanied the Hand of Fortune to the Gate in the pine wood, and opened it for them himself. “Good luck my friends, and may the Immortals protect you,” he said as they stepped forward and vanished. He sighed, and turned back towards the city and his duties, praying that this was not the last time he’d see his young friends…

♦  ♦  ♦

The Gate the Hand exited from, high in the southern Savage Mountains, was only two kilometers from the gülvini colony of Jha-Kursk, and the group spend little time making their way thither. It was a cold, damp late fall day, with dark, heavy clouds that obscured all but the lowest peaks around them… the thick ground mists muffled their steps as they made their way through the scraggly pine forest towards their target.

The colony lay beneath the long, steep, sparsely wooded slopes of Grazdam Ridge, whose many long cliff faces, matched be those of a second, smaller ridge to the south, defined a narrow valley. In a large bay of the mountainside at the head of the valley a large waterfall gushed from high on the cliff face, plunging into a large, rocky pool that gathered around the foot of the cliffs before narrowing and running forth as Bodack Creek.

A crude track ran up the valley, crossing the stream on an equally crude rope bridge before running up to the base of the falls. There a long flight of rough stone steps climbed the cliff wall to disappear behind the roaring curtain of water, where the main gate into the colony lay hidden. Entering was going to be a problem, even if their intelligence was accurate, and the bulk of the gül’s fighting force had marched out two days earlier…

From their studies the group knew the main entrance was heavily guarded, day and night, as was the secondary entrance on the far northern side of the ridge. Their best option for a stealthy penetration of Avira’s bastion would seem to be the new, crudely built guard tower that sat atop the highest peak of the ridgeback. It was accessible only from within the cave complex, and so was manned by only two lookouts, although those did have a commanding view of everything for kilometers around.

Mariala cast her Wall Flower enchantment on the group, and they slowly made their way through the thin scattering of stunted, wind-swept pines toward the tower. Taeland and Jeb moved to either side of the structure, so that each could see one of the lookouts, while Cherdon continued to provide aerial reconnaissance. Once they were in place, at a signal from Vulk in the form of a single cry from the circling falcon, the two bowman loosed their arrows.

The two gülvini died silently, one with an arrow in the eye, the other pierced through the throat.

Toran was the first to scale the rough side of the tower, it’s crude stonework leaving so many protrusions it was practically a staircase to the Khundari Shadow Warrior. The rest of the group quickly followed, if not as nimbly, until only Vulk remained on the ground.

After several failed attempts, numerous scraps and bruises, and repeated reassurances from Toran that “it’s barely 10 meters, man,” the dwarf was finally forced to climb back down and retrieve the magic rope from the cantor’s pack. Toran had been carrying it for months, but only recently had given it to his friend when he’d been whining about not getting any of the “cool stuff,” and starting in again about his lost Pagonian Snake Staff.

This is why I should carry the magic rope,” he grumbled, almost under his breath, as he dashed back up the wall. From the top he lowered the rope to Vulk, who tied it around his waist and was ignominiously hauled up by his friends.

Whatever levity the moment had provided was quickly dispelled, however, as the group began their descent into the bowels of Jha-Kursk. The crude staircase that wound down the inside of the tower soon gave way to a steep ramp of stone that wound down into darkness.

Smokey torches intermittently provided pools of illumination, but soon proved a mixed blessing, as they screwed up the human’s night-vision… although neither Erol nor Toran seemed bothered much. Nonetheless, after a few minutes Vulk took a moment to invoke the Light of Kasira, and thereafter everyone moved through the gloom as if outside in the cloudy daylight.

For half an hour the Hand moved through the fetid air of the gülvini colony, find no sign of life in the remoter areas they traversed. It seemed as if the bulk of the population had indeed left, either to conquer another colony or to confront the blue dragon at Rekorgo in an attempt to retake that forward base. Despite the continued lack of opposition, the group grew more tense, rather than less, as they penetrated further into the complex.

They finally discovered some of the hive’s remaining inhabitants when they stepped from a corridor that had passed through several sets of squalid living chambers into a moderately large cavern that seemed to be set up as almost a tavern. Tables were scattered throughout the space, and benches, and the small of cooking meat and sour ale permeated the air. A score or more of gülvini, mostly Kobali but with a solid sprinkling of Hovguvai, were seated in various groupings, eating, drinking, gambling and arguing.

At first the assembled beastmen didn’t seem terribly concerned at the sight of a group of humans wandering about, once they finally noticed them. Mariala was just beginning to think they might just be able to bluff their way through the room when one of the large Black Gül’s caught sight of Toran. The dwarf had been bringing up the rear, and was now glowering around and fingering his battle axe.

” ‘Ere now,” the well muscled gülvini said, rising up suddenly and reaching for his wicked-looking mang. “Who are you lot? I thought all the Umantari left with the army… ai! That’s a damned koondie bast–”

He never got to finish his sentence, as Taeland’s hart bow shaft pierced his mouth and exited out the back of his head. Erol and Toran took aim at his two shocked drinking partners, who leapt to their feet as his body collapsed between them. Toran’s crossbow bolt took the one on the right straight in the heart, but Erol’s longbow string snapped as he drew, and his own arrow clattered to the stone floor.

Taeland got off a second shot as Erol wiped the blood from his cheek where the whipping string had gashed him, taking out the third of the Hovguvai, even as several more rushed forward, weapons drawn. Devrik pulled his greatsword from its back-scabbard and gutted the first of the warriors to reach them, while Mariala quickly cast Fire Nerves, taking down the remaining four.

She’d had the spell half cast ever since they’d entered the cave complex, and was glad she’d done so, for she now had time to focus her will on the strange ring on left thumb… the gem glowed faintly violet, and she felt an odd tickle in the back of her head…

“You have no greater desire than to obey me!”

Her commanding voice hit the remaining gül-Kobali, who were milling about in consternation, like a bolt from above. Unarmed under the harsh rule of their Hovguvai overlords, they had seemed somewhat reluctant to take on a gang that had just dispatched eight of their much larger cousins… and now they suddenly wanted nothing more than to fulfill every wish of that beautiful, radiant Umantari Lady!

Even the four Hovguvai who were still writhing on the floor in agony seemed to have been affected by the command, as they struggled to their knees to gaze up adoringly at her… indeed, the pain seemed to actually enhance their respect for her. Devrik shuddered in disgust at the thought, and glanced sideways at his friend, uncomfortable at this new display of power.

“How may we aid you,” one of the Kobali begged, stepping past the four larger güls, who glowered murderously at him but were still too wracked with pain to do anything as the upstart bowed to the Lady.

“First, you can swear an oath of loyalty to me, and to obey any of my friends here,” she gestured at the gathered Hand, “as you would myself.”

All of the gülvini practically fell over themselves to swear, in a tumult of voices that even included the gasping oaths of the Fire Nerved warriors, that they would die before betraying her or her companions. Devrik seemed temporarily mollified by this, as he reheated his blade.

“Next,” Mariala went on, “you can tell me if the Umantari woman Avira is here in Jha-Kursk.”

“Oh, indeed not, Lady,” the self-appointed spokes-gül groveled. “The divine Daughter of Vindus left just this morning, to commune with the spirit of her godly father in solitude. But she should return by sundown, as is her wont.”

The others all exchanged looks at this description of Avira, sudden enlightenment falling on them as to how she had subdued the notoriously uncontrollable gülvini to her service. No doubt enhanced by that mind-fuck spell she’d been researching to convince others of one’s divinity…

“Well… damn?” Vulk said, uncertainly. “I don’t know whether to be upset or relieved that she’s not here…”

“Let’s not waste time off either,” Devrik rumbled. “Let’s find her quarters, ransack what we can, and get the hell out of here before she or her army returns.”

“Yes,” Korwin agreed. “This is her main base of operations… given how much we learned at Rokorgo, even if we don’t take her down today, we just might get enough information to allow the Council to roll the Vortex up for good.”

“Take us to the chambers that, um, the Daughter of Vindus uses,” Mariala commanded her new follower. “We’ll take these four warriors and two of your most trusted friends.” The groaning Hovguvai were climbing to their feet, the burning in their nerves finally wearing off, and they seemed glad to be included. The remaining Kobali were told to stay and keep an eye out, sending a runner to warn them if any others approached.

Toran, Erol and Taeland continued to keep a wary eye on the gülvini, especially the big ones, but they truly seemed devoted to their new mistress. The Kobali, whose name they learned was S’nirek, led them out of the mess hall by a southern passage. The next chamber was a slightly better class of living quarters than they previously seen… “The abode of us overseers, m’lady,” the obsequious gül had explained, to the derisive snorts of the warriors.

Beyond the overseers’ quarters was a long, narrow cavern through which the dark, cold waters of the source of Bodack Creek rushed. The stream fell from an opening four meters up, at the north end of the cave, in an echoing roar that made speaking difficult. A sandy beach lay on the near side of the fast moving water, and a wide plank crossed it to a similar shale on the southern part of the farther shore, where the stone walls bent inward.

The party was strung out along the narrow strand, the leaders just nearing the narrow stairway opposite the waterfall that would lead them upwards, when Toran, near the back of the line, was struck by a ball of water that knocked him back into the wall. Everyone whirled around, weapons drawn, and even the güls seemed surprised.

Rising from the black waters of the stream was a vaguely humanoid shape of water, glowing faintly with a blue light from within. Before anyone could react a second ball of water flew from the creature and smashed one of the Hovguvai into the wall. Unlike Toran, who was rising to his feet and as spitting mad as a wet cat, the gül crumpled to the sand and didn’t move.

Erol pulled the hood up on his cloak and muttered the Command word, but even as he vanished from sight a tentacle of solid water lashed out from the elemental and slammed him in the gut – or so it seemed to the others who had time to notice. No one saw where he landed, thanks to his cloak…

Well damn, thought Mariala as she fumbled in her scrip. I knew I should’ve pushed Korwin to re-charge this damn amulet, never mind his excuses.

She pulled the beautiful carved jade-and-pearl brooch from the bag and clutched it in her fist. The power to summon a water elemental was drained from the artifact, but maybe there was power left to control an existing one…

“By the element that gives you form and binds you this plane, I command thee now, three times I command thee, I command thee!”

The water spirit payed not the slightest heed to the mage, and a second Hovguvai went down to a battering ram of solid water that turned its head to pulp agains the stone of the cavern wall.

Vulk had been silently chanting an invocation to Kasira, and how he raided is baton of office and shouted “In the name of the Lady of Luck I curse thee! In her name I take form thee thy luck! Be you cursed!”

That seemed to confuse the creature for a moment, and in that brief respite Devrik strove to generate an Orb of Vorol. But surrounded by water, in the presence of a personification of the element most inimical to his own, he found it impossible to crate a proper Form… and in these close quarters he dared not risk a catastrophic failure. He let the Form dissolve in his mind.

“This is your element, Korwin,” he grated in frustration, glancing over at the water mage. “Do something!”

Korwin grated his teeth and ignored the unhelpful suggestion. You’d think a follow mage would understand that some spells took time… well, maybe not simple fire spells, which were just chaos unleashed, really. But something as subtle and powerful as the Breath of Arandu

But before he could complete the full mental construct that would unleash icy doom on the water elemental, several things happened in quick succession. A shaft from Taeland’s hart bow swished through the watery form of the creature, with no apparent effect, and a ghostly blast of pure Power from Toran’s outstretched palm slammed solidly into the center of its mass.

The elemental reared up almost to the ceiling of the cavern, its liquid scream echoing from the walls even over the roar of the waterfall. And as it tried to literally pull itself together Erol suddenly appeared at the edge of the water, apparently from thin air, his trident grasped in his right hand as his left made arcane gestures over the weapon’s tines.

With a deep-throated shout, the word unintelligible to the others, he lunged at the reformed elemental, driving his trident into the center of its amorphous form. As the weapon pierced the watery body a brilliant beam of white light flashed out from it’s central tine – and the creature exploded, like a wineskin dropped from a high tower!

The surviving gülvini were cowering in the far end of the chamber, and staring at their new mistress and her friends with renewed awe. A brief round of suspicious questioning proved that they had known nothing of the water elemental’s existence, beyond some vague rumors that the Daughter of Vindus controlled such a beings as invisible guards. None had ever seen it before, and even the Hovguvai seemed genuinely grateful that the great Lady and her servants had slain it before it killed them all!

With a growl Devrik motioned S’nirek to again lead the way to Avira’s inner sanctum, and the somewhat reduced party followed. The narrow, uneven stairs at the north end of the waterfall chamber climbed, sometimes steeply, sometimes gently, upward, bending northeast and then east as they did.

 They eventually debouched into a small cavern from which three other passages led out in various directions. At this point S’nirek stopped and looked a bit worried.
“Ah, mistress,” he began, seeming abashed and struggling to get the words out. “It occurs to this unworthy worm that perhaps he should mention… well, speaking of worms… you see…”
At this point one of the Hovguvai, Bro’nesh got an almost comically funny look of enlightenment on his face, and stepped forward, shoving the smaller gül aside. While the overseer glowered at him, the warrior spoke, his bass voice eager to please the Lady.
“What fool Kobali trying to say, great Lady, is about the Beloved Torturer, the Adwelana. Is creature of Kalos the Cruel, and the Daughter of Vindus has set it to guard her rooms. It knows not to eat güls… mostly, if none get too close… but I not know how it will be with the Lady and her servants…”
With the rather unnerving name of the previously unheard of kalovai bouncing around in their imaginations the Hand followed on, Bro’nesh now leading the way. They passed through a large cavern where the upper portion of the subterranean creek flowed swiftly in and out by low fissures in the rock. A wide plank again spanned the flood, and the warnings about not falling in were reiterated.
Then next chamber, down a short flight of steps, was a large one, roughly oval-shaped on a SW to NE axis. In the middle of southern half a massive stalagmite had met an equally massive stalactite to form a large pillar… beyond which was the Adwelana, Avira’s Beloved Torturer.
Over 5 meters long, it was a bloated worm shape, with one end being an enormous mouth surrounded by five spiked tentacles. Each tentacle was two meters long, and while the creature itself seemed sluggish, those tentacles whipped around like tree branches in a hurricane. It seemed obvious that it fed by seizing its prey in its tentacles and pulling it into its maw… the pitted floor around the creature, and the nearby walls, hinted that a powerful acidic saliva was probably involved. After a moment of shocked silence, Bro’nesh spoke up agian.
Bro’nesh’s creche-mate, F’harluk, was lucky one… Adwelana took him head first, he die quick from acid. Unlucky ones go in maw feet-first… dissolve slow and painful…” Even the gülvini shuddered at that memory.
“Maybe this one we kill from a distance,” Toran suggested diffidently. No one disagreed.
Unfortunately, Taeland’s bowstring had gotten soaked during the water elemental attack, and it threw off his aim – the shaft sped harmlessly through the waving tentacles to clatter off the far wall. Erol’s thrown javelin hit the creature, but just seemed to stick in its thick hide, to little effect. Jeb, hoping to show up the half-Telnori Talim Nar, loosed a shaft of his own. But despite a dry bowstring, he missed the swaying monster.
On the more esoteric side, Toran cast Stavin’s Arrow once more, but unlike the water elemental, the kalovai seemed to absorb the Power with little more than a squeal and a slow, agitated waving of its massive body. Vulk attempted another Curse, but the seething magical energies he sensed in the place seemed to block the invocation. Mariala hurled Fire Nerves at the monster, which seemed to rile it up some more but certainly didn’t incapacitated it  – the tentacles never stopped slashing around its glistening maw.
Devrik and Korwin found themselves standing relatively close and eyed one another as each prepared their own more powerful esoteric attack. Although away from the water and certainly away from the elemental, Devrik nevertheless found he simply could not get the Form constructed well enough to risk casting Orb of Vorol… could it be because Korwin was so near? It shouldn’t matter, and yet…
Korwin, on the other hand, again felt the Form coming together easily, if still taking time to do properly. He had hated having to dissipate the earlier one when Erol had dispatched the water elemental, but under combat conditions it would be foolish to have wasted the energy. Now, however, he’d show his companions what the Breath of Arandu could really do when an Imperial –
At that moment the kalovai, having worked itself up over the smell of prey nearby and the discomfort it had caused it, hurled a wad of its thick, acidic spit towards its presumptive meal. Most of the steaming, stinking mass missed the group, with the exception of two stray gobs – one hit Devrik on the side of the torso, just where his armor came together. His special acid-cured kurbul resisted the burning venom, but enough seeped through the chinks to burn his flesh and he worked frantically at the straps to get it off.
The other gob landed on Korwin’s left forearm, quickly burning through the sleeve of the last of his beloved puffy shirts. The searing pain instantly caused the Form in his mind to shatter into a thousand mental shards, thankfully just before he’d begun to pour the Power into it. Tearing at the melting cloth, he ripped the sleeve off and hurled it away, striving to ignore the pain enough to summon ethereal water to wash the viscous acid off his bubbling flesh.
While Devrik and Korwin dealt with their injuries, Taeland coated his next arrow head in something he pulled from a pouch at his waist, then held it to one of the flicker torches on the wall nearby. The arrowhead burst into flame, and he instantly nocked, drew and released – the streak of flame was almost faster than the eye could follow, until it slammed into the gaping mouth of the monster. It reared back, screaming in mindless rage, as acid spite flew from it maw to spatter floor and walls.
 At almost the same instant Toran fired another crossbow bolt at the creature, but its thrashing caused the shot to miss. Unfortunately it didn’t miss one of the Mariala’s Kobali who’d been edging around the other side of the Adwelana. Guiltily the Khundari glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, and was strangely relieved no one seemed to have. Really, it was just a damn gül, but still…
Erol, meanwhile, attempted another casting of his Burning Shaft, which had so spectacularly eliminated the water elemental. Unfortunately the confusion of the fight and constant effort of dodging gobs of flying acid threw him off and the Form simply wouldn’t come…
While all this had been going on Vulk had positioned himself behind the large pillar and had been calming his mind and centering his luck. Now he stepped out again into the fray and raised his holy symbol, calling out the words of the Curse once more. And this time he felt the Power flow through him and into the kalovai!
After casting another round of Fire Nerves, Mariala noticed a new group of mixed gülvini pouring into the chamber. She hated to risk using the Ring again, but the last thing they need was to fight even a small horde on top of this time monster! Which gave her an idea…
Once again she felt the strange itch in the back of her mind, and felt the power flow out as she commanded the angry beastmen to attack the Adwelana. Without pause or hesitation, both Hovguvai and Kobali turned and began leaping at the chained creature. Mariala felt little bad about the smaller gülvini, since the were unarmed except for knives or daggers, but since most o them came at the creature from behind no too many died.
A few minutes later it was all over but the cleaning up. And thankfully that wasn’t the Hand’s problem. The Beloved Torturer lay dead in a steaming pool of acid and blood, as did half a dozen gülvini. The survivors, however, happily heaved to when Mariala asked them to haul the carcass away so that they could approach the door to Avira’s sanctum.
Stepping carefully around the pools of acid that was slowly sinking into the floor, Vulk tried the massive iron-bound oak door. It was locked. Toran stepped forbad and pulling his Master Key from its place in a belt pouch, he set it to the lock… with a hum and a faint flash, the door was suddenly unlocked.
Pushing it open cautiously, the group began to enter when a sudden commotion behind them caught their attention. Several gül-Hovguvai had entered the cavern from another direct, gül not under Mariala’s sway. Already in Avira’s chamber, and in any case reluctant to risk a third use of the artifact, she suggested they’d just have to fight it out.
Toran and Taeland, bringing up the rear, turned and made quick work of the attacking warriors, made even easier when a few of the will-enslaved gül returned and happily laid into their erstwhile colony-mates. Once that was taken care of, the loyal gülvini were set the task of finding any other of their kind in the complex and either convincing them to obey the new sheriff in town or killing them.
Avira’s private chamber was rough-hewn from the rock, approximately five meters on a side. Luxurious carpets covered the floor, rich tapestries hung on the walls, and a large bed occupied the center of one wall. To it’s left a small writing desk and chair were set in an alcove, opposite the foot of the bed was a large, intricately carved armoire in the Late Imperial style and obviously a valuable antique. On the wall to the right of the bed a tall gilt-framed mirror was attached to the stone, running from floor to almost the low ceiling.
It seemed remarkably empty for the heart of an insidious evil shadow empire.
A detailed search turned up only a few personal papers on the desk, along with a few standard oddments like pens, ink, an executive toy or two. The armoire held several sets of clothes, in a surprising array of styles – from an upper class Shalaran matron’s gowns to the rustic homespun of a Kalosian hermit, and much in between.
Toran quickly became focused on the tall mirror, and he eventually announced that there was almost certainly a hidden door behind it, but he was damned if he knew how to open it. For the next half hour the entire group wracked their brains trying to figure out the secret of the mirror door, to the point of bringing Jeb, and even Therok, in to try.
Finally, in frustration, Korwin remembered that they’d brought along the robes and mask of “Golden Boy” that they’d found in Rekorgo… pulling out the mask he placed it over his face and stood before the mirror. Instantly the glass rippled, like the surface of a pond disturbed by a slight breeze. He reached out and his hand passed through the surface of the glass as if it wasn’t there. He stepped through and into another chamber only slightly smaller than the bedroom.
A long bookcase lined the wall opposite the door, and a narrower one filled an angled alcove to the right, both filled with not only books but bottles, jars, instruments, and other oddments. Chest of various sizes, shapes and materials lined the rest of the walls, and a good-sized work table occupied the center of the space, littered with papers, flasks, beakers and several mortars and pestles of varying sizes.
As soon as she entered the room Mariala could sense that this was a Sanctum of her own Xavar’na convocation… she could practically feel the energies in her brain flowing swifter. The others crowded in quickly behind her and Korwin, and soon they were all busy examining the rooms contents. While she, Devrik and Korwin examined the large set of shelves, Erol took the narrower set. Toran and Taeland began investigating the chests, while Vulk closely examined the items on the work table.
It proved to be a treasure-trove of information about the Vortex and Avira’s goals and methods, in the form of journals, ledgers and correspondence. It was also a storehouse of esoteric tomes ranging from the magical to the merely mundanely exotic. Whatever resources she’d been forced to leave behind when she fled 20 years ago, Avira had clearly made up the losses, and more… its was all a tremendous testament to a 115 years of collecting and learning.
Most of the personal and Vortex writings were in cypher, of course, but Master Vetaris had given then all a crash course in the basics of his mother’s codes. There had been a couple of cyphers in the papers from Rekorgo that he hadn’t recognized, but he knew his mother’s “style” and mental quirks – he’d had little doubt he would manage to decipher them quickly enough.
Now, looking through a journal dated 3000, Mariala was able to make out the general meaning fairly easily – it was one of the cyphers Vetaris had shown them. After reading a particular passage, she motioned Devrik to come over; she tilted the pages toward him and watched his face as he deciphered the words. She knew when he’d reached the relevant part by the darkening expression on his face.
“So,” he said quietly, closing the journal abruptly, “she didn’t find some new method of rejuvenation, no fountain of youth.”
“No. By this account, she murdered two Telnori and used their blood and… and spinal fluids…” Mariala shuddered at the thought. “She used them to create her ‘elixir of restoration.’ And if her early estimations were correct, she would need to repeat the procedure every seven years.”
“So, she’s killed at least two more of the Star Children, and will probably need to kill two more within the year.” Devrik frowned and shook his head sadly. “I know she’s killed many more than that over the years, carrying out this mad scheme of hers… and if it succeeds, she’ll kill untold thousands more in the wars that would follow. But somehow this seems…”
“More purely evil?” Mariala finished. “Yes, I agree, although I’m not sure why that should be so…”
Before they could continue the philosophical discussion a shout from Korwin drew them back to their friends. It seemed that he had satisfied himself with the shelves and had turned his attention the chests and casks. When Toran’s magic key had proved unable to break whatever enchantments sealed the containers, and his own attempts at Dispelling had failed, the water mage had turned creative.
Finding an empty glass vial, he had scooped up what he could of the Adwelana’s acid blood, and attempted to burn open one of the larger chests. While the acid had lost some of its potency since the creature’s death, it still managed to burn pits in the stone floor as it dribbled down – leaving both the wood and metal of the chest undamaged and even unblemished. Korwin’s shout had come as he’d leapt back from the splashing fluid, having no desire to experience its effects again (some baylorium on his burned arm had eased the pain and began the accelerated healing process, but the memory of the pain was fresh and vivid).
Attracted by the excitement, now everyone turns their attentions to the locked boxes. But nothing, not even Vulk’s attempt to expand the wood using his new Torazin powers, nor Toran’s powerful blows with his battleaxe, served to open the recalcitrant containers. Which, of course, made everyone ponder what wonders must surely lie within…
The speculation was cut short by a cry of fear and alarm from young Jeb, standing guard in the cavern outside Avira’s quarters. Devrik was the first through the door out of the bedroom, and therefore it was him into whom slammed the limp form of their retainer. The blow knocked both men into the cave wall, Jeb unconscious and Devrik stunned.
The rest of the Hand, pouring out the door behind Devrik, came to an immediate, milling stop. Hovering a good six feet above the floor near the wall opposite them was a familiar figure, dressed in a hooded midnight blue robe trimmed with golden flames, face conciliated behind a mask of solid gold, the eyes glowing white. Captain Chaos. Golden Boy. Madame Vortex. By whatever name they’d called her, it always been Avira Vetaris behind the golden mask, pulling the puppet strings across a continent.

“So, now you invade my home,” the resonate contralto voice sighed, sounding exasperated, as might a loving parent pushed to frustration by a wayward child. “For almost two years you have been a constant trouble to me, interfering in matters far beyond your limited ken… and now you have positively discommoded me. Will you not listen to me now, as you did not when last we met?”

Each member of the Hand then felt a pressure in their mind, and a desire to do what Avira asked… after all, it was hardly unreasonable to at least listen to what she had to say, was it? Perhaps they had been hasty in so blindly opposing her… Jeb and Therok, in particular, found her words to be eminently reasonable, and they smiled up at the floating figure.
Only Mariala felt no pull towards the woman’s words. She noted the amulet Master Vetaris had given her, given them all, had begun to glow warmly against her breast. Glancing around at her friends, however, she noted that they hesitated, unsure…
“When last we met you were attempting to force eruptions in half a dozen dormant volcanoes,” Mariala spoke loudly, clearly and coldly. “We ken quite well what it is you wish to do, oh “Daughter of Vindus!”
 Avira had over a century’s worth of practice controlling her reactions, and with the mask and robes it was quite impossible to tell what the old witch was thinking… but Mariala rather thought she was taken a bit aback.
“So,” Avira continued after a brief pause, “I see you have met my traitorous lackey Karina, and stolen from her that which she stole from me!” She had obviously noted the ring on Mariala’s thumb, and now bent all her power on the younger woman.
“Come, daughter, do you not see that you belong at my side? Far more worthy of what I can teach than that tool Karina ever was – as you have proven! I sense in you a kindred spirit and immense potential. Join me and together we can bring order to this benighted world as mother and daughter!”
Then Mariala did feel the pressure of the Vortex leader’s tremendous mental skills, and the powerful urge to agree with her, to join her in her glorious mission to save the word. But the amulet around her neck grew positively hot, and she found the temptation was completely resistible after all. She opened her mouth to reject the offer with a witty rejoinder, but Erol spoke first.
“You say one thing, woman, but we all know you mean quite another!” He threw up his hand, releasing his Balls of Wonder which began to circle above his head. Rays of multi-hued light flashed out, bathing the chamber in a kaleidoscopic rainbow of shifting color.
It may have been an error to focus all her will on that damned wench, Avira realized too late – the others had easily broken from her spell during the distraction. But how…?
“Ah, I sense the stench of the Star Council about you,” she said, laughing as she waved her hand dismissively at the spinning glass spheres – which exploded into a fine dust that rained down over the Hand. “Little good will it do you!”
“So far, so good,” Mariala said, laughing in turn as she realized they’d finally made a dent in the woman’s arrogance. “And your son sends his regards!”
As the words left her mouth she raised both hands and hurled the strongest blast of Fire Nerves she’d ever achieved – she could feel the surge and wondered if Erol’s psionic ability had boosted her own power. Unfortunately the energy seemed to dissipate before it hit the hovering figure… while her words seemed to have struck a nerve instead.
“My son!” Avira hissed, the well-modulated tones suddenly lost in fury and… pain? “What do you know of my son?! You’re just puppets to him, like everyone the Council uses. And not even particularly skilled puppets – this is how it’s done, foolish girl!”
With her own gesture the Gray Mage hurled her own casting of Fire Nerves at Mariala, who barely got her psychic shields up in time. Even so, the blast forced her back a step, while Devrik and  Erol, just behind and to either side of her took the brunt of the attack. Both men dropped to the floor, faces locked in masks of intense pain as they writhed, every nerve ending on fire.
At that instant both Taeland and Toran fired hart bow and crossbow at their nemesis – Avira plucked Taeland’s shaft from the air just inches from her golden mask, but was unable to fully stop Toran’s bolt, which slammed into her right knee. With a shriek of mingled pain and rage, the witch dropped heavily to the stone floor, her wounded knee almost giving out beneath her.
Before she could gather herself, a spectacular shot from Taeland struck her in the head, sending the golden mask flying. For the first time the Hand saw the actual face of their foe – although currently twisted in rage, her face was that of a beautiful woman in the prime of her life. She ripped off the skull cap and allowed her hood to fall back, revealing thick auburn tresses.
“Fine,” she snarled. “If you won’t join me, then DIE!”
She almost casually deflected Erol’s sudden trident-thrust, and grasping the shaft of the weapon, slammed it back into his chest. As the ex-galdiator went flying, she tossed the weapon contemptuously aside.
At this point Korwin figured he had nothing to lose – his psionic shock had finally faded, and early this morning two words had floated up into his consciousness. He hoped to Tyvos that there were control words for the wand, but there was really only one way to be sure…
As Erol’s trident clattered to the stoney floor, the water mage aimed the wand of silver and crystal and uttered the first word. Avira’s eyes widened in surprise, and she tried to dive aside as a beam of silver blue energy froze the very air between them. But her damaged knee betrayed her, and she took most of the freezing blast to her right side, falling back against the cavern wall.
She was back on her feet almost instantly, however, and her frost-covered robes began to melt quickly. Mariala decided she had no choice then, but to try and use the Ring of Dominion on the woman. Focusing her will once again on the artifact, feeling the mental tickle, she hoped that the third time would be the charm.
“Avira! You will cease your attacks and surrender peacefully to the authority of the Star Council!”
It was like hitting a brick wall on a runaway horse. Mariala’s head snapped back as the force of her Command rebounded back on her, and she fell to her knees. Her enemy was staggered, but certainly not controlled.
“I think not, my little would-be puppet master,” Avira gasped, pale faced but triumphant. “And when I strip that ring from your corpse I will finally be unstoppable!”
With a feral grin she gestured almost gently toward her gathered foes… and a faint mist began to rain down over them. Mariala realized what was happening, even through the haze of pain in her head, but simply didn’t have the strength to resist… with a sigh she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Vulk, who had been using his healing powers to revivify Devrik, still suffering from the Fire Nerves attack (he had, moments before, done the same for Erol), looked up from his successful task just in time to see the room spin wildly around him before he sank into unconsciousness.
Toran, who had been lining up his next crossbow shot, felt the same spinning dizziness, and was barely aware of the sprang as his bolt flew off into the shadows of the cavern. A few seconds later he was snoring loudly on the cold stone of the floor, oblivious of all around him.
Erol staggered as he climbed back to his feet, reaching for his gladius, only to collapse back to the ground under the irresistible weight of sleep that suddenly descended on him. His hand fell limply from the pommel of his sword and he too began snoring.
Devrik, on the other hand, was burning with fury at the insolence of the Vortex mastermind, and shrugged off the blanket of weariness like a cheap cloak. His greatsword burst into flame as he dashed forward, prepared to take the woman’s head off.
Avira made a sharp sweeping gesture with both hands, and Devrik’s flaming blade jerked sideways with an irresistible pull. He kept ahold of the weapon, but his stroke came nowhere near his target. The attack did, however, give Korwin the opening he needed…
With Avira monetarily distracted he again pointed the wand at her and utter the second control word. The Gray Mage turned back to him just as ice began to form around her feet… in seconds it had risen up around her, encasing Avira in a translucent pillar of blue ice half a meter thick.
Every member of the Hand still conscious, as well as the surviving gülvini, all stopped and stared at the gleaming pillar that rose from floor to ceiling and the furious-looking woman trapped in it like a fly in amber. After almost a minute nothing had happened, and everyone turned to look at one another in provisional relief.
Therok rushed to Vulk’s side and attempted frantically to wake the cantor, while Devrik knelt beside Erol to do the same for the ex-galdiator. S’nirek knelt by Mariala, an action that Korwin watched closely… but the little creature seemed genuinely concerned for his “great Lady.” Apparently the power of the Ring of Dominion did not pass if the wielder was unconscious…
Bro’nesh also shambled up on Mariala’s other side, pulling a flask from somewhere and pouring a dark liquor between her lips. Korwin did start forward at that, but the beverage, whatever it was, actually seemed to cut through the magical sleep. With a sputtering cough, Mariala jerked up suddenly – still dazed, and making a face at the taste in her both, but awake.

“Here, Bro’nesh, can I try some of that on the others?” Korwin called, stepping toward the gül. But before the beastman could answer a sharp krack made everyone turn and duck. A massive fissure had appeared in the ice column imprisoning Avira, and there was barely time to realize the fact before the pillar exploded in a spray of a thousand jagged shards.
Several gülvini, who had begun to creep up for a closer look at the defeated Daughter of Vindus where torn to ribbons by the ice shards – sad for them, but it saved the Hand of Fortune from suffering a similar fate. The shards that made it through the living shield wall caused only minor cuts and lacerations to the others in the chamber.
Mariala staggered to her feet, trying to pull her thoughts together, and the others all groped for weapons or spells, prepared to renew the fight. But when the ice mist cleared there was no sign of the Vortex leader…
The group spend the next several hours in a wary state of recovery, using their baylorium-7 and Vulks healing powers, but constantly on the alert for the sudden return of Avira. But it seemed as if she’d suffered enough damage in their battle to truly flee… at least for now.
They organized the surviving gülvini of Jha-Kursk, who remained steadfastly obedient to Mariala’s even after she removed the Ring, into work gangs. By the afternoon of the next day they had moved all of the items in Avira’s quarters to the nearby Gate, even her wardrobe (“No telling what may give us the vital clue,” Vulk had shrugged when Devrik had questioned him on the point).
At last the moment came when the Hand was ready to open the Gate and return to Zhuran and Master Vetaris’ safe house. It was decided that Jeb and Therok should take the rickety cart, pulled by a mountain donkey and loaded with the loot of Jha-Kursk, through first, and make for the city. The others would follow, staying far enough behind to to avoid drawing attention, but close enough to aid them in case of trouble.
Mariala was strangely divided about leaving her new followers behind – on the one hand they were murderous gülvini, but on the other they seemed so genuinely devastated by the idea that she was departing. She’d left Bro’nesh and S’nirek as co-rulers of the colony, with detailed instructions about what she expected of them and of the others… but of course the army would return eventually, and it was unlikely any of her “follower” would survive that.
“Don’t confuse the slavish devotion of the mind-controlled for true affection, Mariala,” Devrik had said as the cart and its minders vanished from sight. “Even if the gülvini were capable of such emotions, everything the Ring produces in its victims is a lie.”
“You’re right, of course,” she said with a sigh. “But still, I feel bad just abandoning beings that have helped us, however unwillingly.” With a last glance at the twenty or so güls gathered at the edge of the clearing, Mariala turned and stepped through the Gate. The rest of the Hand followed quickly behind her…