Greyhawk adventures - Artifact of Evil Part 3

He had nearly ridden down Incosee, and as he cursed the dark warrior, he kicked his booted foot at the Chakyik next in line. There were five or six other hors.e.m.e.n behind the first, all coming at a trot now and drawing their swords.

"Silly s.h.i.t," Jokotai said indifferently, levering the man from his mount by means of his own extended foot. The fellow crashed heavily to the paved roadway, stunned but still trying to unsheathe his longsword.

Gord and the rest scattered as the riders came up, blades flashing, trying their best to trample and hack the men before them.

One managed to ride his own comrade down, just as the fallen man was regaining his feet and had his sword in hand. A horse flailed its hooves at Gord as its rider reined it back hard, slashing and wounding the Chakyik barbarian who had so rudely unseated his attacker.

Gord ducked under the animal before him, thumping its belly with a balled fist as he did so, then rolling and tumbling clear. The pain caused the horse to come down stiff-legged and buck. Its rear hooves lashed out and caught another of the mounted men on the leg.

That rider yelled in agony and lost control of his mount, and soon all of the riders were milling in a confused knot, trying to regroup and resume their attack.

"These knaves need punishing!" one called, still keeping up the obvious pretense of offended gentleman at odds with surly common adventurers.

"To our Master!" cried a loud voice from the group of bystanders who had appeared as if by magic to view the melee.

Gord was virtually out of the confused scene by then, not even having drawn sword or dagger. He saw that there were a dozen or more armed men in the crowd. One he immediately recognized as being among the men who followed him earlier This whole affair was certainly well planned and orchestrated, even though the initial rush of hors.e.m.e.n had not had the effect that had been hoped for.

More ruffian-types were congregating around Curley Greenleaf and his apprentices, while a larger force was intent on dealing with Gellor and the rest. The footmen claiming to be (he servants and retainers of their a.s.sociates on horseback had produced weapons and were menacing the five adventurers, while the mounted attackers were readying to come at them from the other side. Gellor, Jokotai, Incosee, Moon, and Patrick had no place to go, caught as they were in the open area between the two forces. Neither group of foemen had yet noticed that there was one member missing from the party they were besetting.

Blades began to meet in ringing strokes. Gord had no time to worry about what was happening to Curley and his a.s.sociates, realizing that unless he came to the aid of his five trapped friends, they would be in serious jeopardy. The opportunity was perfect, for Gord could fall upon the attackers from their rear and take them unawares, intent only on their supposed victims. He went into action immediately, striking low with a broad sweep of his shortsword, cutting the backs of the legs of two of the attackers, while plunging his long dagger into the unsuspecting back of a fellow about to smash Moon's head with his upraised morning star.

Just as he withdrew the poniard and dealt a finishing stroke with his sword, nearly severing the foeman's head with the blow, Gord saw the mercenary Blonk suddenly leap in among the hors.e.m.e.n, his longish spear playing havoc with men and horses alike.

Stabbing with one end, clubbing with shaft and b.u.t.t as if it were a quarterstaff, the rawboned fighter laid about him with a ferocity that momentarily impressed even as seasoned a combatant as Gord. The riders were confused and scattered by the attack, one crushed beneath his fallen stallion, another dripping blood from a long gash inflicted by the keen blade of the spear, a third trying to halt his stampeding mount, and the other two reeling atop panicked and bucking steeds.

Gord blocked a cut from a broad-bladed sword and riposted with a long lunge that skewered his adversary through the chest.

Gellor and Incosee were fighting back now with confidence, not having to worry about their backs for the moment. Patrick and the bleeding Moon held one flank, while Jokotai was actually singlehandedly driving a bunch of attackers backward on the other. Gellor was engaged with a pair of hard-bitten opponents who were pressing him severely Gord wounded one of the pair so as to distract him sufficiently for his one-eyed friend to finish the deed and concentrate on the remaining opponent.

Of the original gang of ruffians who had beset them, at least a half-dozen were dead, as many sorely wounded, and most of the others bloodied to some extent. Being what they were, they broke and ran. Several more of the thugs died in the process, but the remainder made good their escape, leaving their dead and wounded to whatever fate befell them.

The hors.e.m.e.n had fared little better, although their quality was certainly superior to that of their so-called henchmen. Gord noted that somehow the doughty Blonk had managed not only to remain alive but was still carrying the fight to his mounted adversaries.

Of the seven who had begun the fray, four still sat atop their steeds and fought. It was nearly impossible, but the lone footman, armed only with his spear and incredible courage, kept them at bay and managed to occasionally deliver a solid attack upon one or another of the riders as well.

Gellor ignored the whole, running past to see to the safety of the druids, for they were still engaged in melee with the ruffians who had attacked them. Gord sprang high, landing on the rump of a startled horse, feet first. Before the animal could react, the young thief had cut its rider's shoulder with a sure sword-stroke and vaulted to a similar position atop the next horse. With a scything stroke of his dagger, he took its rider out of combat, the narrow blade penetrating the exposed place under the man's armpit and killing him. As the horse whinnied and reared, Gord was off and striking the withers of yet another of die animals, using the flat of his sword to send the horse into panic.

"Thanks, comrade," the spear-wielding mercenary said as he tugged the weapon free from where the horseman had impaled himself on the heavy-bladed shaft as he fell from the bucking gelding. "That does for the lot."

The lone survivor of the seven mounted attackers had indeed spurred for parts unknown. Gord didn't waste time in conversation. "This way," he called to Blonk as he ran to the place Gellor and the rest now battled. There was no further work for his red-stained blades, however, or for the deadly spear that the mercenary plied. By the time the two men came to reinforce the rest, the few remaining attackers had dropped their weapons and were begging for quarter. At about the same time a large squad of die city watch arrived, crossbows c.o.c.ked and at the ready.

"Lay down your arms and cease fighting!" The order was given somewhat uncertainly by the captain of the group of city guards, for he was wise enough to recognize a tenuous situation when he saw one. Before him were a band of obviously capable adventurers who had just roughly handled and defeated twice their number. Now he, with a score of soldiers of little more than militia quality, must try to disarm these veteran warriors and spell-casters and march them off to face a town magistrate! As the man feared, his command was greeted with something other than compliance.

"Arrest this lot here, if you will," replied a tall, muscular man with a black eyepatch, "but leave honest wayfarers be. We havehad quite enough for one day, and I don't think my friends here will take kindly to any official folderol from you and your pups."

The officer did his best to hide fear under a stern countenance, and the men with him made aggressive sounds and held their weapons menacingly still, but the captain knew that none of this posturing was having any effect whatsoever. Grumbling and threatening to return with the full weight of Badwall's watch behind him, the fellow herded the cowed ruffians into a bunch and made do with that bag. After sternly ordering the innkeeper to see that the bodies scattered in gory pools around the front of the Bra.s.s Ball were neatly stacked and left undisturbed for official investigation, the captain hustled his prisoners off, leaving Gord and his a.s.sociates to their own devices.

"Get everything together quickly," Curley Greenleaf said with finality. "It is absolutely necessary that we leave here immediately. You have ten minutes to be ready. If you aren't here, then I leave without you in the appointed time - understood?" All nodded agreement. "You," the druid added, pointing an accusing finger toward Blonk, "are coming along with us as swordsman and guide."

Blonk evidently had no choice. The druid's statement was an order, not a request. The mercenary didn't object, simply nodded and turned on his heel to gather his belongings from the inn. The die was cast.

Chapter 6.

They made excellent speed leaving Badwall. Everyone had been ready in less than the ten minutes Curley Greenleaf had allowed, and the grooms and stableboys had eagerly brought their ready mounts for them, knowing full well that their haste would be well rewarded by the clinking c.h.i.n.kers that filled these patrons' purses. The ostler was likewise eager to see them off - both to avoid any possible future trouble and to collect his own coins. The rotund druid was generous, he knew, and in return for a promise of sending any friends in the same general direction of travel as the druid indicated, the half-elf had richly rewarded the innkeeper, paying over a handful of copper and silver in addition to those coins that compensated for the services of the inn.

Eleven strong now, the party left the town's walls behind on galloping horses, the last light in the western sky leading them onward.

"Will we have pursuit?" Gord inquired.

"Not from the minions of the town watch," Gellor said wryly, "for they're undoubtedly glad just to be rid of such as we. . . - But of others, I know not - nor do I care to speculate at this time."

"I concur," the druid said. "We are the stuff of nightmares now, as far as Badwall is concerned. Someone desires us dead, and they were anxious enough to see it done dial they allowed their tools to a.s.sault us in the midst of the town - reckless of consequences.

The lords of the place will be congratulating themselves on our departure, and not at all eager to follow. Any other troublemakers will be on our heels, and Badwall is left undisturbed once again!"

"It grows too dark for such a pace," noted the Chakyik nomad. Coming from a horseman such as Jokotai, this was a warning worth heeding.

"Agreed," Greenleaf replied, and called for the party of adventurers to slacken their reckless pace. "We still have much distance to travel this night, and wounds to be seen to ere dawn. Let us go with a care for our lives though, so that when the morrow comes, we may all greet the warm rays of the sun with gladness and good spirits."

Regular rest periods were taken, intervals of perhaps an hour on the hour, during the darkness. During these pauses, Curley used his druidical arts of healing to help mend wounds and restore vigor. The half-elf ministered to both men and animals in such good fashion that when the sun did eventually rise again in the east, the entire party was feeling nearly as well as if they had not fought a pitched battle the day before, ridden all night, and had no real food to eat.

Even with their pauses, they had covered some twenty miles, and it was now time for the adventurers to consider what course they must follow in order to a.s.sure that they could fulfill their mission without interference from the malign activities of the Scarlet Brotherhood.

The party had left the beaten path at first, taking to the fields around Badwall to elude any immediate pursuit. During the course of the night they had come upon another track, and they had followed this path for it led in the direction of the Suss Forest and made their travel easier and quicker by far. When they had come to a tiny cl.u.s.ter of huts at a crossing of paths, they had swung around the little community and pressed on, unnoticed, disappearing into the cloaking darkness of the cloudy night. They were now quite near the verge of the dank and foreboding woodland, and no sign of man or his works was visible - save the faint traces of the rutted track they still followed.

"There," said Greenleaf abruptly. "That copse offers us shelter from eye and provides some small protection from marauding man or beast as well. Let us go there and rest for the trials which must be faced when we enter the Suss."

None demurred, so the eleven riders were soon amid the trees of the small grove, removing saddle and tack from tired animals.

After seeing to their mounts, the adventurers set about preparing a repast for themselves. Then, with sentinels posted in pairs and a smokeless fire burning, they settled down to rest for the remainder of the day and the coming night as well. The light of the next day's sun would find them deep within the shadowy depth of the fell Suss Forest, and each man knew that this opportunity was not to be wasted.

Before the afternoon shadows were long, all save the two sentries were asleep, stomachs full, dreaming whatever dreams each held within the limitless expanses of his own mind. Gord was one of the two standing watch, and it was he who first saw the two riders heading directly for the copse of trees that sheltered the band, following the faint tracks the riders had left behind when they came to this place.

"Patrick, hsst!" Gord called softly to alert his fellow guard to the approaching pair. "See there! Rouse Curley and Gellor - quick now!"

In a minute the whole party was awake and alert, watching as the two riders came ever closer. They were but a bowshot distant now, and Gord could discern that one was a woman, the other a man. Oddly, the former wore armor while the latter was garbed in nondescript robes. No amount of observation could discover any others with the two. They were alone, evidently - not the advance scouts of some larger body of tracking foes. Gellor and Greenleaf held a brief, whispered conversation, and then the druid grinned and nodded.

"All of you, be ready. I shall cast a spell to disguise us all as trees. Circle round our clearing here, and leave the horses be. We shall see what the wolves on our track think when they discover no one save some nags at home for their call!" So saying, the druid motioned them to places he felt perfect for his purpose and then began his dweomer.This was all new and strange to Gord. One minute he was himself - and the very next he was a tree, but one that could somehow see! He felt his arms, legs, and body - yet he had roots and leaves too! He sensed other human-trees also, and could actually observe such growth where once Incosee and Gellor had stood. A bird fluttered its way onto one of his outstretched fingers, perched, and twittered its little song. Gord wished to smile, but the hard bark of his skin wouldn't allow such freedom. This was a perfect disguise beyond all of the arts he had ever learned. The pair of hors.e.m.e.n - horsewoman and horseman, rather - entered the now-smaller glen and reined up short.

"This is a strange rede, Oscar."

"Nay, Deirdre, not strange at all. ... I sniff a dweomer druidic."

"At them!" shouted Curley Greenleaf, suddenly changing from an ash tree to his own true form even as Gord was watching.

Feeling instantly enlivened and free, Gord sprang forward, drawing his sword in the same smooth motion, which brought him to a position ready to attack the interlopers from their flank. The others of the little company were likewise freed, and began whatever actions they deemed best to overwhelm these two who sought to prevent the party from succeeding in its quest. The young thief was, in fact, almost at the point where he could strike the robed man - a magic-user, judging from die motions he was frantically performing as the disguised group suddenly changed from harmless trees to armed warriors before his startled eyes. His female companion was also readying her own defenses, shield before her, lance lowered, when another shout rang out.

"Hold!" It was Curley Greenleaf once again, only this time he was frantically attempting to stop the attack he had just precipitated.

"Stop!" echoed the one-eyed bard as he too recognized the emblems that the two displayed openly at their b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Gord saw that both wore the silver unicorn horn of the G.o.ddess Ehlonna, and the green of an oak to symbolize a unity with nature. These were the two sent from the Circle of Eight to a.s.sist them with their quest for the second part of the evil artifact!

Although the horsewoman was in motion, her lance leveled and her horse urged to a canter, she managed to control the animal and come to a sudden halt at the combined cries of druid and bard. Likewise, her a.s.sociate did not continue with his spell casting, but at the call for a cessation of attack, simply ducked and avoided Gord's faltering blow.

All in all it was a near thing, but no harm was done. Curley and his one-eyed friend were quick to make amends for the near-fatal encounter, explaining that they had been beset in Badwall and were now doubly wary and perhaps a bit too ready to defend themselves. The magic-user, Oscar, was not impressed by the whole matter, but his female companion seemed totally relaxed and unaffected once it was called to a halt.

"You chubby trickster!" she cried to the half-elven druid. "That little enchantment you pulled on the two of us nearly did for me . . . and Oscar too, only he won't admit it. You are pretty good - for a man!"

Gord disliked this brash woman instantly. Girl was more like it, and a very pretty one at that, not that it made any difference to him. She was too big, too much like a man, and too loud and sure of herself.

"Well, let's not stand around with our thumbs up you know where," she said sarcastically. "I am Deirdre, a knight of Hardby and minion of True Womanhood. Despite that, I serve the Circle of Eight this day, as does my boon companion, Oscar, a wizard from the Gynarchy's good lands as well." Here she proceeded to clasp each of the company's members' hands, one after another, bidding each greeting and success. Deirdre came to Gord at last.

"Well done, little man!" she said as she grasped his hand in a powerful grip that would have made a man less strong wince.

"You were near to striking poor Oscar a heavy blow when you recovered and held that stroke." She was at least an inch taller than Gord, even though he wore his high-heeled riding boots. Her cool, green eyes and tanned face mocked his challenging stare as she looked down at him.

"You are a tough one, no?" she added. "Well, one day after we have done with this matter perhaps we'll meet on another ground and see what shall be seen."

"Charmed, m'lady," Gord replied with all the mockery he could muster as the girl knight turned and strode over to Curley Greenleaf and Gellor.

"Let us hold council, us three," she said, "while Oscar makes his peace with your fellows and we become one company. There is much to discuss if we are to succeed in this mission."

Both the druid and the bard seemed to be somewhat at a loss as to how to deal with a woman such as this one. If one of their fellows had acted this way, either man would have managed the upstart easily. But she was female, and obviously a puissant fighter as well. Confident and condescending, this lady knight of the female-ruled free city of Hardby was dominating otherwise capable men simply by virtue of her s.e.x!

Females in any profession - thief, fighter, cleric, magic-user, whatever - were not uncommon. They were accepted and given equality and full respect as a matter of course. Here, though, was a woman who was condescending to accept men as near-equals, rather than expecting that males recognize her as one of them. It was indeed overwhelming.

Oscar was a likable enough chap, Gord grudgingly admitted to himself, even though he seemed to accept his a.s.sociate's superior role with bland equanimity. When Jokotai made rude suggestions as to their relative positions after dark, the magic-user merely laughed deprecatingly and went on to other matters. Gord shook his head in disgust. This fellow was no man at all!

When Incosee noticed Gord's reaction and asked the young thief if he wouldn't willingly take a turn on the bottom for a woman such as Deirdre, Gord hawked and spat his rejection. Even the taciturn Moon had to guffaw at that, for he knew his own desires as well as those of the disapproving young thief - his protests notwithstanding.

That made Gord do a bit of thinking. What did he actually feel about the tough female knight? She was good-looking - in a hardened, sun-browned way. Her hair was light brown and streaked with highlights the color of the morning sunbeams as they lanced through the foliage of the forest. Her complexion, tanned as it was, still showed fairness and a scattering of tiny freckles across her nose and cheekbones. Despite her obvious ability, her familiarity with the outdoor life, and her muscular development, Deirdre was a desirable woman. Her armor could hide neither her prettiness nor the form that bespoke her s.e.x. The hard steel had been shaped to conform to her curves, and imagination could easily fill in the rest, that which the metal actually concealed. No matter; Gord had seen far more beautiful women - courtesans, daughters of rich merchants, even mere trollops.

"I can get a piece of a.s.s in many places," Gord said then, looking Incosee squarely in the eye, "and without the b.i.t.c.h supplying the favor demanding she be dominatrix in the bargain!"

All of the rest laughed at this, and Gord thought it was more because they doubted than believed his remonstration. He started away angrily, only to b.u.mp into both Deirdre and Oscar standing and waiting for the group to stop their banter and notice them."Druid Greenleaf and Lord Gellor have asked that you all join in a conference," the girl said icily. The disdain on her face was plain evidence that she had heard the whole exchange.

Gord remained quite composed. "Please inform our comrades that we will be there momentarily," he said without a trace of embarra.s.sment.

When Deirdre turned and went back to where the two men waited, her face was flushed, but whether from anger or shame, Gord couldn't tell. The slight magic-user grinned at the a.s.sembled adventurers, bowed slightly, and then followed his companion.

Blonk made the number of the party thirteen. n.o.body liked that much - not even the rugged mercenary, from what he said.

Still, he was committed to the quest now, having left Badwall in somewhat of a questionable situation. They couldn't ask Blonk to return there now; whether from town officials or pursuing foes, his life would be in definite danger. So eleven had suddenly become thirteen, a dozen men and one woman - all seasoned adventurers and veterans of many a tight situation.

This group was to pierce the trackless tangles of the heart of the Suss Forest, find a lost ruin there, recover a bit of some strange and occult object of eldritch origin, and carry it safely into the hands of those who fought against Evil. Very well, they would do it or perish!

Deirdre and her a.s.sociate Oscar had managed to traverse the woodland often, journeying between parts of the Wild Coast and Celene on affairs upon which neither party elaborated. Blonk too had had some experience in the Suss, traveling and hunting it frequently during the past years. That was sufficient when coupled with the information Curley said he would furnish when the time was ripe. After a brief discussion as to how to array themselves for the coming trek, the party ended their council. Next morning they would begin the most trying part of their quest.

The usual watch was kept that night, with two sentries rather than one because the party was now relatively large. Curley Greenleaf was quite concerned about their tracks, for Deirdre and Oscar had managed to follow without difficulty. One sentinel was posted to observe there, while the other guarded the horses and watched the other perimeter of the small encampment.

The druid made a point of a.s.signing duty so that from midnight on, first Gord, then Curley himself, would stand watch along their backtrail. Gord was trusted, of course, but Green-leaf also knew of the power that his sword bestowed upon the young thief. Between this special vision and the elven sight that Greenleaf possessed, it would be nearly impossible for attackers to surprise the party in the dark. This meant that Curley expected trouble, and that it would come from adversaries able to see in darkness, and Gord was speculating as to the nature of possible attackers throughout his two plus hours of standing guard. Nothing of unusual nature occurred, however. At the end of his period of sentry duty, he awoke the druid and headed back to his own bedroll to finish off the night with a couple more hours of sleep.

Gord saw his old friend alert the three apprentices - he couldn't ever recall their names - and then awaken the magic-user, Oscar. After a whispered conference, the apprentices fanned out along the edge of the copse as Curley and Oscar stole out of the camp eastward, surely going back over the route they had followed to gain their current position within the stand of trees. Gord was tired, but he stayed awake to learn what was going on. About half an hour later, the pair came back to the encampment. Oscar and the fledgling druids said nothing, simply returning to their places and going back to sleep. Mystified, Gord decided he'd ask about it in the morning and settled down to sleep. Full sleep would not come, but the young adventurer remained quiet and dozed off and on for about an hour, possibly longer, until he heard a distant but loud voice that sounded much like Oscar's. This was followed immediately by yells and shrieks coming from the same direction. He sprang up to learn what was happening, and in a moment everyone in the small clearing was awake and arming.

"Curley!" Gord demanded in a low voice so pitched as to carry only as far as where the druid stood. "What's going on?"

"Got the b.u.g.g.e.rs!" Greenleaf replied, chortling with glee. "I thought some filthy humanoids would be used to dog our trail! Did you hear 'em howl? That was 'Uroz' they were shrieking . . . ores they are!"

Before Gord could reply, the wizard from Hardby began an incantation that drew the young thiefs attention. Outlined against the red glow to the east - the light of a spreading gra.s.s fire, not the rising sun - was a swarm of dark figures. Even as they ran toward the copse that sheltered the party, Gord saw a faint flickering emanate from Oscar's fingertips. The phenomenon disappeared instantly, and suddenly a burning sphere appeared in the midst of the onrushing attackers. It was nearly three hundred yards distant, but the globe expanded and burst with a roar, the blazing light nearly blinding Gord in the process. There were more cries, and the survivors of the fireball's terrible destruction ran right and left.

All thought of making an attack upon those within the grove of trees was certainly gone. The gra.s.s and scrub growth was blazing now - two walls of flame moving outward and toward each other. Gord was glad not to be on the receiving end of whatever the druid had done, let alone Oscar's deadly blast of magical fire. The wizard loosed a pair of lightning bolts in quick succession for good measure. These, however, came from a stubby wand Oscar had drawn from his wide sleeve.

"Hurry!" Gellor called. "Ride west quickly! Don't you think there'll be retaliation coming soon as those dogs' masters can manage to come up and deliver it?" The bard was already mounting his stallion as he spoke. Gord ran to join him, as did Oscar.

The others had saddled the mounts, and all of the party's gear was ready as well. In seconds all thirteen were in the saddle and urging their horses through the stand of timber toward the opposite side. As they broke from the copse and trotted westward, a veritable storm of fire and flashes of lightning broke out among the trees behind them. Gellor had been right, of course.

"They come after us in force!" shouted Deirdre.

"They'll be more careful after this, though," replied Greenleaf. "Thanks, Oscar, for setting up that magical voice to trigger my little berry fire trap!"

Gord filed away another mental note. In the future he would certainly be wary of cooperation between spell-workers of different callings, such as druid and magic-user. Either alone was deadly, but it seemed that in conjunction, their effect was more dangerous still.

If there was further pursuit, it was not immediate. Their followers had been taught a lesson likely to make them slow and cautious hereafter. The party rode in darkness for only a few minutes before daylight began to brush the horizon with milky paleness, the stars faded, and vision slowly improved as shadows gave way before the sun. A few miles ahead was the beginning of the Suss Forest.

Chapter 7.

Gord hadn't thought it possible, but the forest here was worse than the southern portion they had had to traverse coming from the Drachensgrabs to reach Badwall. Gord had spent a surprising amount of time in such places, considering he was a city-bred thief, andno forest he had ever traveled in - even the great ones of Nutherwood and Adri - had been like this. However, thanks to the woodcraft of Gellor, Curley and his a.s.sociates, and Blonk as well, they made fair progress and never became lost in the thickets and tangles of the Suss.

Deirdre and Oscar had been in this same region, and with Gord available to clamber unerringly up trees to visually scout their way, the group managed to move westward at the rate of almost two leagues each day as the crow flies. They actually traversed nearly twice that distance, considering the twists and turns of their path as they followed trails or watercourses. The journey was further slowed by ravines and marshes that had to be circ.u.mvented, predators to be avoided, and the monstrous denizens of the place to constantly guard against.

There was also the backtrail to watch, for they knew full well that the fiery repulse at the copse of trees had not deterred pursuit. Every sort of craft and dweomer possible was used to conceal and make dangerous the path the party followed. Pits with sharpened stakes were prepared by a combination of magic and manual labor; snares, deadfalls, and spring traps were set along their route. The druidical powers of Curley Greenleaf and Gellor were yoked with the magic of the wizard, Oscar, to create novel surprises such as sticks suddenly turning into venomous snakes when someone pa.s.sed, trees that would become partially sentient and attack with their great limbs, and the like. They hoped thus to throw off or slow any followers so as to make their own mission a success. If they could locate their goal, it should take no more than a day to finish their work and push on westward, out of the Suss and into the clean air of the elven Kingdom of Celene and beyond.

Whatever they were doing, it seemed to be working. Going through the forest on a northwesterly axis, the party managed to reach the banks of the Jewel River eight days after entering the gloom of the Suss. They encountered remarkably few hostile creatures on the trip, and all agreed that this was probably due to their own remarkable state of alertness and preparation. Creatures avoided them, for their group certainly const.i.tuted a formidable threat to anything they were likely to come across, dragons and swarms of humanoids notwithstanding. An unwary hunter was soon devoured by other carnivores - and this party was never unwary.

On the east bank of the Jewel, Curley Greenleaf finally broke out his secret information. It was a reproduction of an ancient map that crudely depicted the area they were in at a time long past. This drawing showed that there was a city just a few miles - as far as they could determine, anyway - north of their present position. Two days of trekking up the Jewel discovered nothing. However, there was no thought of turning back, for the map couldn't be that inaccurate, and the force pursuing would be coming from that direction anyway.

They sat down that night for a council once again. Gord had been thrown into Deirdre's proximity many times during the past week, and now he could at least tolerate her without difficulty. She showed no personal antagonism either, brushing aside his proffered apology with a comment about males having to prove their superiority while females always demonstrated the masculine effort to be fruitless. Because she obviously believed this, Gord actually reacted in a manner that tended to reinforce Deirdre's a.s.sertion. But when he realized the trap he was in, Gord quickly ceased his efforts to do anything other than excel at his own profession and otherwise keep his own counsel. Thus, they now interrelated well enough to exchange ideas freely and to contribute to the overall aims of the group.