Chapter V: Shadow Strike

hey were divided when night fell upon the city. Jewelynna & Tic were on the rooftop of her parent's home. Marco was also on a rooftop, signaling his companions with a mirror. Wyveryn was just walking, by himself, to wherever his feet would carry him. And Aeroth and Banger were on the way to the northwest city gates, baby in tow.

Aurora looked at the paladin with a frown.

"What is it, Banger?"

"I'm just wondering how it is possible that the man who masterminded your father's death is at your back and yet you scurry away like a little mouse."

Aeroth stiffened. "It is taking every ounce of strength I have in me not to turn around. But it is because of this baby that I press forward. You reminding me of what I leave behind does not help."

Banger shrugged. "It just seems odd to me, that's all."

Aeroth would have replied with an angry retort, when he realized something felt... wrong. They had come to an intersection. But everything seemed darker than it normally would. The streetlights ahead had all gone out. There was an alley to their left, along with a closed down inn. And to their right, another alley and a closed bakery. Not a soul was in sight, and yet, Aeroth could have sworn he heard a footstep. Or a scuffling. In any case, when he peered into the darkness ahead of him, he was sure that something lay in waiting for them there. An ambush, perhaps. Grabbing Banger's arm, he pulled her to the door of the inn.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Just trust me." And with the baby in his arms, he kicked the door open. They walked into a bar, L-shaped, with a closed staircase leading up. There was a doorway behind the bar, perhaps leading to a rear exit. At first, Aeroth thought that might be their best bet of escape, but as they drew nearer to the bar, Banger stopped him.

"Do you hear that?" She whispered.

He shook his head.

"Where is it coming from?"

She pointed a finger at the doorway behind the bar.

Trapped.

Swearing under his breath, Aeroth grabbed the nearest linens he could find to make a sling for the baby. He strapped her to his back and unhooked his ax from his belt. Glancing over his shoulder, he hoped the child would not stir. But to his amazement--as if she sensed the danger--she was dead silent. Her little blue eyes stared wide at the room around her, but she made no sound. Aeroth whispered a prayer of thanks to Tyr.

He gestured to Aurora to go to the stairwell. There they would make their stand. She nodded, and quietly unsheathed her sword. Backup up onto the closed stairwell, Aeroth could not help but cringe when his boot made contact and caused a loud creak.

They both watched, in horror, as four sets of black fingers grabbed the wall at the base of the stairs. Aeroth felt his heart skip a beat, but he drew his focus to his ax and prepared for battle. Simultaneously, a figure walked through the door. He was cloaked, and he moved through the shadows like a nightshade. When he was in the room, he removed his hood to show a head of white hair and face of charcoal black.

Drow.

"This is very, very bad." Said Banger. "Just thank Tyr it is not the one you threw the spear at in Cöthrom."

"I've a feeling that one is not far behind." Said Aeroth.



As the creatures at the base of the stair drew up, they saw they were Draegloths--half demon, half drow monstrosities. Four arms were attached to each body, and red eyes glared hungrily at them. Aeroth felt the baby still behind him, but she did not cry. Perhaps she was frozen with fright. Indeed, he could not blame her, for when the creatures drew up to their full height, they stood about ten feet tall.

"Aeroth Ravenswing." It was the drow who spoke, his voice thick with an accent. "You are still alive, it seems. There have been those of us who thought you dead, but our King knew better. He can smell your flesh in the world. And he sent me to be rid of you."

"Then tell your King he can face me himself, if he has the strength!"

"My friends here will determine your strength and your weaknesses."

And with a flick of his finger, the Draegloth launched themselves at the paladin.

****



Tic & Jewelynna realized their precarious position too late. The city was infiltrated. With a clear view of the landscape, they could see the shadows cascading over the walls like ants on an anthill. To climb back down would put them in danger's way. And clearly, Marco was nearby. His mirror-signal had caught the last bit of light.

Now, the houses of Tradesdale were close enough together that it might be possible to jump. And about three jumps away was a bridge. If they could get there fast enough, they might meet up with the magician.

"Do you think you can make those jumps?" Tic asked the healer. The look on her face was one of horror.

"How far is it?"

"Six feet. You can do it."

But it was clear Jewelynna was not confident that she could make it. Tic's heart skipped a beat. It was a three story fall down. If she didn't jump far enough... no he wouldn't consider that. They had to make it. Their lives depended on it.

As darkness swirled around them, Tic pushed her forward. "Just take a run and then leap into the air. You can do it, Jewelynna. I know you can."

He looked down to see her hands were shaking. The poor girl was positively terrified. But she swallowed her fear and did as Tic instructed. When she leapt into the air, Tic could see that she hadn't committed to the jump. He screamed and leapt after her. In an impossible move that not even he was aware he could do, his hand caught her wrist just before her descent. Tears stung her eyes as she realized how close she'd come to a long fall. Now Tic was not a large man like Aeroth, but he was unusually strong for his build. And in such a moment of adrenaline, he hoisted her up onto the next rooftop like she was a bale of hay. She wheezed and gasped and wiped some tears from her cheeks.

"Now," He said, "you have to do that two more times."

Jewelynna glared at him. "You must be joking."

"We have no other choice, Jewelynna. We cannot go down. Who knows what lurks there. Marco needs our help. And we cannot go back. Either way, you'll have to jump. But you can do it this time. I know you can."

She muttered something under her breath that sounded like a curse, but it was not clear to Tic what she said. For a moment, he thought she would give up. But the healer was made of stronger stuff. She stood, brushed off her green and gold robes and readied herself for the second jump.

Once again, she fell short, but this time, she managed to grab the opposite rooftop at the last moment. She clung there for dear life. What's worse, something tugged at her heal. Tic saw the shadow with the gleaming red eyes.

The little devils were climbing up the walls!



With a cry, Tic leapt again, this time crashing against Jewelynna's back, and kicking the creature off her ankle. The healer let out a yelp, but just as quickly, Tic managed to hoist himself up to the second rooftop and pull her close behind him.

Jewelynna's eyes were wide. "Are you crazy?"

"That's debatable. But no time to discuss it now. One more jump, Jewelynna. That's all I need. Once more to get to the brige. Marco needs us. Can you do this one more time for me?"

Brushing her hair back and getting a dark look of determination on her face, Jewelynna indeed jumped. And this time, she made it. Her experssion changed to one of utter surprise, and when she turned around to see where Tic was, she let out another yelp. For he was directly behind her.

"Well done." He grinned. "Now let's go."



****

When Marco finished signaling to Tic & Jewelynna, he made his way to the bridge. It did not take long for the three to be reuinted. But the joy was shortlived. For on either side of the bridge, shadows emerged from the darkness. Shadows that had crept up from the sides of the buildings. They did not launch an attack, but instead hovered in waiting.

Their position was a precarious one. Cornered, like rats, they stood helplessly on the bridge as the shadows lurked just beyond. Not far away, the lights of the ampithreatre cast an ominous glow, and the roar of the crowd rang in their ears. Yet all eyes were on the newly appointed Cardinal, and no one saw the three trapped on the bridge. Marco thought about calling out. But who would hear them?

As if the situation could not get any worse, a cloaked figure stepped out from the darkness. He came to the edge of the bridge and removed his hood. A head of white hair cascaed down his shoulders, and when he lifted his head, they saw the charcoal black skin that was unmistakably Drow. Marco & Tik instantly recognized this face as a face they had seen before. It belonged to the Drow from Cöthrom--the Drow Aeroth had thrown the spear at when they'd rescued the baby. The sight sent a chill down their spine.



“I am Ekarmordi, King of Drow," he said in a heavily accented tongue, "and I am here to pay a debt to Aeroth Ravenswing, who attacked me upon the rebirth of my people. You are to take me to him.”

The sound of giant wings filled the air, and a gust of wind picked up. Horror-stricken, they watch as the head of a young black dragon eclipsed itself over the bridge, and glared hungrily at the helpess three. Its breath was hot, it's snout was long and gleaming in the glow of the ampitheatre's lights. Its wingspan was twenty-five feet, and it shocked their bodies to the core with dragon's fear.

"Tyr's balls." Tic whispered under his breath.

"Not even those can save us now." Said the healer.



*****

"Wyveryn... help us. We need you."

The voice filled the half-elf's head as he walked through the streets of Tradesdale. There was a darkness to his mood, for he had grown accustomed to traveling alone. And yet now, for the first time, he was quite aware of his lonliness. It was all their fault. They'd gotten under his skin. And the baby...

"Wyveryn... help us. We need you."

He paused. "Why? Why??" He asked the wind. When there came no immediate reply, he suddenly realized he must look like a fool. Sure enough, the guards of the Amiptheatre were watching him cautiously.

They probably think I'm some crazy madman, he thought to himself. Well, maybe I am.

He was tired. Tired of books. Tired of babies. Tired of boxes. Tired of voices and dreams invading his thoughts. Tired of adventures. Tired of being told what to do. Tired of running. Tired of being beaten and attacked. Tired of feeling like a complete moron. He wanted to go back to the Fearwood. Back to the way things were before the fall of Cöthrom.



As he walked, his legs carried him to a dark intersection. To his right, a bakery and an alley. To his left, another alley and an inn with a door hanging off its hinges. But before he could consider how odd that was, Wyveryn sensed something coming directly his way. The streetlamps were all out beyond this point, but when he squinted into the darkness, he saw figures moving toward him. Three wore long cloaks. The others skampered along the ground and the sides of the buildings.

"Wyveryn, we need you. We are in the inn. Please come to us."

Spinning around, he thought to go back the way he came. But sure enough, there were more coming from that direction, too. Cursing, he realized the only way to escape was through the inn door. But he didn't want to go there. That was exactly where the voice wanted him to go. And he refused anything to do what it wanted him to do. He was the master of his own destiny after all, was he not? He would do what he want. Go where he pleased. And he would fight these creatures by himself. He needed no one's help.

There was only one problem. He had no weapon.

Thee three figures moved silently into the dim light of the street. They took off their hoods to reveal their long white hair and charcoal skin. Drow females. Wyveryn cursed again and picked up the nearest object he could find... a rocking chair on the porch of the inn. That was when the middle one spoke.







"We are the Three. We seek Aeroth Ravenswing. You are to take us to him."

"I don't know where he is."

She laughed. "We have no time or patience for your lies, half-elf. You have three seconds to decide. One.... two...."

******

The Draegloth raised themselves up to their full height. There were two of them, four arms each. They did, indeed, look like demons of the underworld. And when they launcehd themselves at Aeroth, he lifted his ax and let out the war cry of General Lux.

"By the hand of Tyr!!"

Everything shifted into tunnel vision. There was no sound but the hiss of the Draegloth... the whoosh of its claws at they swiped at him. All Aeroth could see was blood. It was the trance-like state he always went into when going into battle. Even his heart seemed to stop. Indeed, he could hear nothing... see nothing... but his enemy before him. And only when the drow spoke did he notice anything besides that.

"You made a grave mistake in attacking our Drow King, Ekarmordi. I am here to gather a reward for your death."

"Let me show you your first reward!" Screamed Aeroth. "And its called the Wrath of Tyr!"

He hacked into the neck of the Draegloth who fell before him, critically injured. At the same time, he lifted his hand to the heavens and called up his god. A black hole formed in the ceiling, and then crumbled above the Drow's head. The light that overtook him was piercing, and the Drow--this creature of darkness--let out a blood-curdling scream. He fell to the ground, his skin blistering in the god's light, and wailed as if he were being boiled alive.



It was all over in a moment. The light diminished. And in the spot where the Drow once had stood, there was only a cloak left scattered on the floor. Aeroth blinked, amazed at what he had done. Then in a moment of triumph, he let out a thunderous laugh.

"I think the expression is... Tyr's balls!"

Banger had managed to injure the second Draegloth, but had taken some injuries of her own. With a final swipe of her sword, she severed the head off the thing and fell to the stairs in an exhausted heap. Sweat poured from her brow, and she gasped for air.

"How did you do that?" She asked.

"Someday I will tell you. Come, we must go upstairs. There are more coming."

*****

"Where is Aeroth Ravenswing? I know he is alive."

Marco thought quickly. "“I mean the kindest sincerity. I would be willing to give you his location if he were not traveling alone.”

Ekarmordi cocked his head. "Indeed. He travels with a babe. I will be taking her with me, too."

“Leave this city be, and I will direct you in his location."

"You beg a bargain of Ekarmordi? I make no bargains with lesser beings."

"Magician, what are you doing? You're not helping!" Hissed Tic.

But Marco just silenced him. "Perhaps we can come to an understanding. We know where he is. We will take you to him. Just call your beasts off."

Ekarmordi merely grinned. "As I just said, I make no bargains with lesser beings." And with a flick of his slender index finger, the black dragon reared up and grasped the bridge with its claws.

It shook them back and forth, like an earthquake. Tic and Marco held on for dear life, but poor Jewelynna was not so quick. One fierce jerk thrust her over the side and she had but a moment to grab onto a rope for dear life. The two men grabbed at her, just as she let out a piercing scream.



Jewelynna's scream was like an alarm set off. It resonated through the city and into the Ampitheatre, where the unsuspecting crowd turned and saw--for the first time--the black dragon hovering over the bridge. One woman echoed the scream. Another fainted. And it only took moments before chaos erupted and a stampede of panicked worshipers made their way to the vomitorium doors.

"We've got you, Jewelynna." Marco whispered. "Just hold on. You've alerted the city. Thank you!"

"Pull... me... up!"

Together, they hoisted her onto the bridge, as the dragon reared back for its first attack. It circled over top them in the sky, then spun around and shot downward like an arrow. They gasped in terror as they realized they were seconds away from their death.

"Hold onto me!" Cried Marco. He grasped the healer in his arms and teleported. Tic watched, disbelieving, as the two vanished into thin air.



"Horse's ass!" He cursed. There was nowhere to go but down. He should have looked before he leapt, but the dragon would be upon him in but seconds. And so, as if he were diving into the deep end of a lake, Tic raised his arms above his head and sprung into the air. There came a sickening sensation of falling. But as he tumbled, he saw the first laundry line and grasped it. Like an acrobat, he spun around once, released and grasped the next laundry line below. He did this three times before coming to land dexterously and quietly on the ground below.

Tic touched his face. He was alive. He was alive! The joy that filled his heart was suddenly eclipsed with the irritation he felt when he saw Marco and Jewelynna step out of the shadows.

"Thanks for leaving me up there!"

"You got down safely, did you not?" Insisted the magician.

"Yes, but with no help from you."

Marco scoffed. "I knew you'd be fine."

"That makes one of us!"

"May I suggest we take this argument elsewhere, as this is no place to be talking?"

The first of the panicked crowd of citizens had begun filtering out of the ampitheatre. Soon, they will be caught up in a wave of terror-stricken people. But the good news was if they moved quickly, the crowd would cover their escape. Marco thought for a moment of what to do next.



"Where are we to go?" Asked Jewelynna. "We cannot escape."

"We can." Said Marco. "There is one place. And one person who can help us."

"Then take us to him!" Tic said irritably.

Marco smiled. "Follow me."

****

"...Three!"

Wyveryn had decided at "two" that he would throw the rocking chair at the female drow. He thrust it at her, knocking her over, but the other two grabbed for their weapons. The first unsheathed her sword. The third reared back and threw a spear.



It was a rare moment in Wyveryn's short life that time moved so slowly. He watched the arch of the spear as is flew silently through the air. A sense of peace and panic came over him as he understood what was about to happen. Just as the stories told, his life flashed before his eyes. He thought of his mother first with her long brown curls And then of his father, with his sad smile. He remembered the elves who had schooled him, and the protection of the trees in the Fearwood Forest.

Closer came the spear. Closer still...

He thought of his life in Cöthrom and how everything had changed. He remembered being captured and waking up beside Tic in the caravan.... of the fishermen at Blythe and the feeling of Jigger practically breaking his jaw. He thought of Aeroth and Jewelynna... Tic and Marco... how none of them understood him. How he was terribly, terribly alone. And now would die that way. The last thought was of the baby... of that unmistakable warm feeling he'd gotten when he'd held her in his arms. Now he would never know what would become of her.

And before he could move... before he could run, he watched the spear sink into his soft abdomen.

Then the world went black.

****



Aeroth and Aurora had retreated to the upstairs of the inn. The first room they found they blockaded themselves inside. Through the window, they had the perfect view of the Ampitheatre and what they saw struck them with dread.

"A black dragon. Do you see it?"

"Yes." Said Banger. "I see it."

So had, apparently, the crowd at the Event. They ran, screaming from the Ampitheatre in a mob of terror. Many passed under Aeroth's window, oblivious to the two who watched them from above. There were other screams in the night. Aeroth imagined it was those being attacked by the Draegloth and whatever other horrors lie in waiting in the dark alleys.

They saw the black dragon dip low and disappear into the Ampitheater. It did not surface for several minutes, but when it did, there was a figure on top of it. A figure wearing unmistakable red robes. The Cardinal.

"Okra." Aeroth practically spat the name. "There's your man. There is my revenge."

"He rides the black dragon. He was part of this, too. Likely, he planned this attack."

"And no doubt is in league with the Drow King, Ekarmordi. No doubt he has orchestrated the events of tonight to make himself look like a hero. See how her rides upon the back of the dragon. They will say he is the savior of the city. He will cast away the shadows. He will be like a god to the Empire."

At Aeroth's words, Banger's face went white. She thought for a moment, then looked at him.

"What of the book?"

"The book?" Yes. He'd almost forgotten it. Aeroth pulled the brown leather-bound book from his pouch, shifting the baby on his back in the sling. "The Book of Everything... Well, Almost. We need you now. Are you awake?"



The book gave a half-hazard yawn. "Yes." It
said.

"Are our friends close by?" Asked Banger.

"Yes."

"Are they in danger?"

"Yes."

"Are we to stay in this room?" Asked Aeroth.

"No."

"Are Tic & Jewelynna in danger?"

"No."

"Marco?"

"No."

"Wyveryn?"

"Yes."

"And is Wyveryn close by?"

"Yes."

"You heard it," said Aeroth. "Wyveryn is close by. I suppose we should go help him."

"After I just moved that bed against the door." Grumbled Banger.


****

"Leave."

"For the last time, I'm not leaving."

Lux had told him once that redheads were stubborn. Though Aeroth had no idea what he was in for in dealing with Aurora Bengar.

He finally made a decision to give the baby to Aurora with the understanding that should danger be afoot, she was to leave. Immediately. But to her surprise, he took a moment to hum a brief lullaby before passing her off. Banger slung the quiet child to her back and gave him an exasperated look. Together, they moved the bed back from the door and stepped out onto the landing again.

There came no sound, not from below, not from the other rooms. Cautiously, Aeroth and Banger crept down the closed staircase again, careful to step around the creaking stair and the two lifeless bodies of the Draegloth. Aeroth's boot slipped a bit on a pool of blood. He bit his lip and held back a gag.

People ran past the windows in a wild blur, heedless of who or what was inside the inn. They were mindless, struck only by the terror of the dragon. No, the people of Tradesdale would be of no help tonight.

Once again, the hairs on the back of his neck stood high as he realized they were not alone in the room. Aeroth put his arm out to stop Banger from going any further. And as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he did, in fact, see figures near the front door. They were seated at tables... three of them. All cloaked. And a fourth... one who rested as still as a corpse. A spear had sunken into his chest. it was with horror that Aeroth & Banger realized that it was Wyveryn.

There was breath in his body. It came in slow, agonizing gasps. The spear must have pierced a lung. No doubt the boy was dying. He likely had little time left.

That was the moment in which one of the cloaked figures chose to speak.

"Aeroth Ravenswing. There are many looking for you. We are the Three, and we have come to offer you the life of your friend in exchange for something you have in your possession."

In unison, they lifted their cloaks to reveal their white heads of hair and their charcoal black skin. But these were females. Likely, three sisters. They sat, eerily calm, with their legs crossed and their eyes moving between Aeroth and Banger.

"How about you give me the boy and I spare your lives?"

The three Drow looked at each other and let out a low hiss of laughter.

"Now you are just amusing us. The boy has but moments to live, and you would stand there and barter with us?"

"You're right." Said the paladin. "No sense in bartering. Let me not waste any time."

And before the middle one could react, he'd lifted his ax and sliced her open from the shoulder to the navel. First and Third hissed and wailed, "Sissster!"

Aeroth grinned. "Now you bargain... with Tyr!"

They launched their attack.

"Banger, leave!"

"I'm. Not. Leaving!"

"Banger--!" The first one was on him. He parried her sword with his ax, then struck at her, knocking her off balance. Once again, his tunnel vision returned. All he saw were his enemies and Wyveryn's body.

I have to get to Wyveryn, Aeroth thought to himself. And when I do, I will heal him.

But the First was too quick and kept him busy. He sliced at her again, this time Aurora running her through. She screamed in pain, allowing Aeroth the chance he needed to Lay Hands on Wyveryn. A moment of light and warmth, and the spear shot out of the half-elf's chest.

He breathed as if it was his moment of birth--as if he had just come out of the womb and his lungs felt the expansion. There was pain--blinding pain. Pain such as Wyveryn had never known. Pain that made him wish he was dead. Aeroth shouted to him, but it fell on deaf ears. Wyveryn could do nothing but lie on the table and bear his heavy burden.

The second drow sister was killed shortly after, but the third and final one leapt onto Aeroth's back and dug into him. She threw her arm around his neck and attempted to choke him. But he outmaneuvered her, slamming her to the ground and thrusting his axe into her flesh. Soon the floor of the inn was swimming in Draegloth and Drow blood.

Wiping the sweat from his brown, Aeroth went to Wyveryn's side. "Can you walk?" He asked.

Wyveryn's eyes adjusted, and he looked at the soldier as if seeing him for the first time.

"What?"

"Can you walk?"

He sighed. Indeed, the pain had subsided. Not much, but enough for him to move and take slow deep breath. He would not be agile, and it would be excruciatingly difficult, but he nodded his head weakly.

But there was a heaviness to his heart.... a realization that something had changed. That the soldier had saved his life. And he was indebted to him for it. The thought blackened Wyveryn's mind. Why Aeroth? Why now? Why couldn't they have just let him be? Why couldn't he have just died? He never asked to be saved.

So what would become of him now?

Aeroth and Aurora lifted him from the table, and he stumbled a bit in his attempt. Whatever the Lay Hands had done to him, it was slowly healing his insides. He could feel it working, and it felt foreign and unwelcome. Being a half-elf, he was not new to magic. But somehow in this case, he felt invaded.

"We must find the others." Said Banger.

"Well, I don't know where they are. Do you?" Aeroth sounded irritated.

"No. But I'll bet the book does...."

****



There was a place in Tradesdale that was very unimpressive from the outside, but only those who were welcomed on the inside knew of its grand hall and "mock" throne room. It is the home of the Thieves Guild. Once, before General Lux established law, this city had been a mess of thieves, assassins, rogues and good-for-nothings. The Thieves Guild building had been in disrepair back in those days. It sat in the warehouse district with holes in the roof... termite infestations... and barred windows. They called it "The House of Rot". Old wives tales run wild about the the place. They say it was once the home of a band of child thieves called "The Forgotten Children", but then General Lux provided a stable military government and that changed everything. The city of Tradesdale flourished under its new parameters. And the House of Rot became the Thieves Guild.

It was here that Marco brought Tic and Jewelynna.

At the door were two guild members. When they recognized Marco, they let him pass. Through the modest doorway, they entered the throne room, a place where guild members convened and entertained each other. This was where meetings where held, votes were made, and the system was adhered to.

"What are we looking for?" Asked Jewelynna.

"It's not so much what he was looking for as to whom we are looking for."

"You speak in riddles, magician." She said impatiently.

"Fine then. Whom are we looking for, Marco?" Asked Tic.

"Him." The magician pointed to the throne at the head of the room. Draped across it, his long legs dangling over the side and his right hand flipping a gold coin, was the Trickster. Jewelynna gasped. She had never seen such a strikingly beautiful man before. And there was something quite disconcerting about him as well.

He grinned at them, flicking a strand of sandy blonde hair from his eye.



"You took your time getting here, magician."

Marco nodded his head in greeting. "We were... delayed, sir."

"Delayed." The Trickster tasted the word on his lips. "Knowing you, that would be a severe understatement. What brings you to my palace?"

"We seek asylum. Sanctuary. You are the only one in this city who might get us out safely."

The Trickster nodded. "That is very true. So you seek safe passage out of Tradesdale? Didn't I warn you to leave before nightfall? You haven't changed a bit, Marco. You still never listen to a thing I say."

"With all due respect, sir, time is of essence."

"Indeed." The Trickster sighed and stood. "It always is." Pulling a lever on the side of the throne, the chair slowly sank into the ground, revealing a winding staircase to the tunnel below. He gestured for them to enter. Jewelynna went first, holding her robes as she cautiously descended. Tic was right behind her. But Marco paused.

"Our friends. Aeroth, Wyveryn, and Banger. We can't just leave them here--"

But the Trickster waved him off. "My men will find them. They always do. If they are alive, they'll be brought here. But now, I suggest you do a disappearing act, magician. Or this moment might be your last."

*****

Aeroth rubbed more sweat from his brow.

"And you say the others are safe?"

"Yes."

"Do you know where they are?"

"We do."

Banger and Aeroth sprang upright with their weapons, bracing for another attack. But there were four men at the door. One of them was a rather small man with thickly curled hair on his head. He, like the others, wore gray cloaks, but their swords were not drawn. The one who spoke, the man with the curled locks, put his gloved hands up in the air.

"We were sent by your friend. The magician. And my friend... the Trickster. We mean you no harm, but you must come with us now, and quickly. We'll take to the shadows, for you cannot be seen."

Aeroth glanced at Banger, who seemed too tired to argue. She adjusted the baby in the sling behind her.

"Our friend here needs assistance. He is healing for a bad wound."

The curly haired man gestured to his men to help the half-elf, then to Aeroth he said, "My name is Simon. You'll have to trust me, for now. I am your only way out of this city."

"Then stop talking and get us out of here."

Through the bleak night, and past the screams of the citizens, Aeroth and the others crept through the shadows. He tried to cut out the sounds of despair, the cries for help. He tried to forget that he was was leaving Tradesdale in the hands of a mass murderer--the man who'd masterminded his father's death. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't a coward.

But as they went, he hung his head in shame.

*****

The party reunited at last below the throne room of the thieves guild. The room at the bottom of the winding set of stairs led to a series of dark tunnels. Only the Trickster knew the way. And so the Trickster would lead them.

"If you don't mind my saying so, you have an awfully unusual band of travelers with you this time around, magician."

"These are unusual times."

"A baby... A soldier... a healer... a boy... and a brooding half-elf. Oh to be a fly on the wall from the moment you met these fellows." The Trickster cocked his head at Jewelynna and smiled his charming smile. "Jewelynna. Back in town after all these years? And you left in such a rush. Certain secrets need to be kept, yes? Certain... family secrets? Shall I tell them now, or perhaps save that for the long walk from Tradesdale?"

They saw her face noticeably flush, and her retort was filled with more venom than they'd ever heard from the gentle healer. "I rather prefer to walk in silence."

"We'll wait then." He laughed. "But we have not yet discussed payment."

"Payment!" Aeroth howled. Then turning to Marco he said, "Who is this man?!"

"He is the only one who can give us safe travel from Tradesdale." Marco sighed. "What is it you want, Trickster?"

"There is a book with you, is there not? A book of everything... well, almost? I should like to see it."

"Don't give it to him!" Jewelynna hissed.

Aeroth agreed, looking to Marco for help. "Can he be trusted?"

Emphatically, the Trickster answered for him. "Abso-LUTE-ly not."

"Give him the book."

Banger made the transfer.

"Ah... such simple craftsmanship. The fabled book of the philosopher, Horatio. I have been waiting to see this for some time." The Trickster flipped through its pages. "I hope you don't mind if I explore it while we walk."

"Just so long as we walk." Said Aeroth through gritted teeth.

"I believe there is also a riddle box in your possession?"

They stared at each other dumbly.

"Oh come now." Said the Trickster in exasperation. "To whom was it given?"

"Marco found it." Wyveryn said.

"But it was said to be given to you!"

Reluctantly, the half-elf produced it from his cloak.

"The Riddle Box," explained the Trickster, "is a curious creation. Shall I read the exact definition to you from the book. You all can read, can't you? Well, I know this one can, at least. Magician, would you do the honors?"

Marco took the book from the smiling Trickster, and opened to the correct page. "According to Chapter...em... Chapter Diddle Dee Doo, A Riddle Box is an ancient device created by the Matsudiian design and adapted by the Shambhalan priests. A riddle box can only be opened by solving its individual riddle. As to how these boxes are created, or if there are any other ways to get inside them, those secrets are carefully guarded by the Dragonborn and the Shambhalan Priests.

Some are simpler than others. It is widely believed that the more complex the riddle, the more treasure it bears inside. They can also be distinguished by their bothersome habit of a disappearing and reappearing lock, as Riddle Box locks are mainly for show."

Aeroth and the others shared a look. Instantly they thought of the disappearing lock on General Lux's door. Were General Lux's quarters a Riddle Box?

Turning back to the task at hand, Wyveryn wondered allowed where they were supposed to find the riddle?

"Did none of you think to look on the bottom of the box?"

Wyveryn blinked in disbelief. Turning the object over, sure enough, there was writing on the bottom. He rolled his eyes and looked up, talking to no one. "Who knew it was on the bottom of the box?"

Marco snatched it up and read:

"O ter Caer air eiraes kolol air.
You must keep it after giving it."

"You must keep it after giving it..." Aeroth wondered aloud. "Is it something we can touch? Something we can hold? Or perhaps an idea?"

"Well, that is a good question, paladin," smirked the Trickster. "It's too bad we don't have an all-knowing book in our possession."

Aeroth muttered something under his breath, while Tic just looked amused. The more pithy remarks the Trickster made, the more Tic seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Book, are you awake?" Asked Aeroth.

"Yaaaaaawwwn. Yes."

"Do you know the answer to the riddle."

"Yes."

"Will you tell us?"

"No."

"No!"

But Banger touched his shoulder. "Book, is there a reason you're not telling us?"

"Yes."

"It's because you want us to work together to solve it, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Both Wyveryn and Aeroth grumbled openly at that.

"I don't see what working together is going to get us." Snapped Wyveryn.

"I think that's the point the book is trying to make." Marco retorted.

"My understanding," said the Trickster, "is that the riddle is catered to the person it's made for. This box was given to the half-elf. Suffice to say, the answer has to do with him."

Marco considered his words for a moment, then agreed. "Book, is it the 'world'?"

"No."

"Is it 'love'?" Asked Jewelynna.

Again the book denied them. And then something struck Aeroth so suddenly that he could not help but blurt the thought out. "Is it 'your word'?"

"Yes."

The lock reappeared, and clicked open quite suddenly. They had solved the riddle.

"Well done, Paladin. But now to what's inside..."



Wyveryn opened the box. There were two scrolls, thick documents each, and sealed with the letter "L" on them. Curiously, he pulled them out and opened the first one. This was what it said:



They stood in stunned silence. Abruptly, Aeroth wiped his cheek with his sleeve, hoping none of them had noticed. Wyveryn had an expression mixed with horror and disbelief.

Then Aeroth Ravenswing did something very unexpected. He turned to Wyveryn, knelt on one knee, and bowed his head.

“You are the grandson of my father, Yvander Lux. And I swear to you on my life, I will protect you.”

Wyveryn could not mask his displeasure. He took the document bearing his rightful ownership of land and threw it at the paladin. Like a child throwing a tantrum, he said, “You can have it!”

“This is yours, Wyveryn. Rightfully so. And I will say this: The Lux that I know, the man I claim as my father, sounds to me like he was very proud of you in his own way. And I think, had he known you and I know you, he'd probably be rolling over in his grave, but I think he'd still be thankful that you've done your part. Wyveryn, you must understand, I don't claim my honor to you because of who you are, but because of who you represent: Lux. Both of our relation. I'll fight for his honor, even if you choose not to.”

“I represent my father. He had no love for Lux. Neither do I.”

“Then perhaps you'll learn to love me. Here among friends, you'll be safe. And that I will always bring you back from death.”

“You don't need your land, paladin. Take mine. Let's end this. Let's go home.”

"Wyveryn, I don't want land. I want freedom.”

Tic put in, “We need homes to go back to.”

Aeroth's tone changed slightly, as he stood from his kneeling position. “If nothing else, boy, you owe me a debt.”

To that, Wyveryn had no retort. And it angered him more than he cared to say. It wasn't fair! None of it was! He hadn't asked for this! He hadn't asked for a debt! Why was this all going so wrong?

“It is kind of fair.” Tic said.

It took all the strength he could muster up to speak his next words.

“All right."

The group looked at him surprised, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But for the first time since they'd known the troublesome half-elf, he looked completely and utterly defeated.

"I will owe you, Aeroth Ravenswing. But when that's repaid, I'm going.”

“Oh!" Tic cried. "He saves your life NUMEROUS times, but you don't owe ME your life. You lured that spider RIGHT into the perfect place. How brilliant of you. Thank you for helping me kill that dryder!”

“Exactly." Aeroth was stern. "We saved your life how many times? And have known you how many weeks? How you going to get out of this without us?”

They were interrupted with a clap of his hands as the Trickster laughed merrily. "Family reunions. I love them. I really do. This has all been so entertaining. I haven't been this intrigued since Hiroko Dragonborn drank me under the table."

Tic gasped. "You knew Hiroko?"

"The son of Tyr? Aboslutely. Nice fellow. Could really hold his liquor."

"I know! Wasn't he something else?"

"He was, Tic. Or should I call you... Thomas Flick?"

Again, they hushed. Tic stared at the Trickster as if he had just spoken words of death.

"How do you know that name?"

"It is my business to know names. And your business not to know mine. This world is changing. And it has become clear to me that wherever there is change, the group of you are left in the aftermath. And so I seek... I search. The magician knows. I puzzle over each of you. Call it a hobby of sorts Thomas. I mean Tic, of course. And the orphaned paladin... or Lareth, as you chose to be called. Seems you can't take the soldier out of the man. So much for the life of a husband and a half-elf. You are always exactly who you seem to be. I hope you never try for a career as a thief. You'd fail miserably.

And to the Healer, who keeps many secrets of her own. How long can you keep a secret, little healer? And what price would you pay to find the answers to some of them?

The magician is the only one of you who understands secrets, though he may not know that I'm familiar with more of them than he thinks. Even your true name, sir. Yes, even that.

But the question is, what becomes of the brooding half-elf? The legacy of General Lux? Does no one understand you, boy? Is that the problem? Do you look around you at the gifts given to you and pout like a child? Is there a man inside that legacy, or did the legacy die in Cöthrom? Seems to me you have some decisions to make, half-elf. Lucky for you, these tunnels are long and winding. There'll be plenty of time to get lost... or to simply get lost in your thoughts."

As his words trailed off, Tic turned to Wyveryn and smacked him on the arm. "I like him!"

But once again, Aeroth turned to Marco and asked if the Trickster could really be trusted.

"How do we know that he has our best interests in mind?" Asked the paladin. "What if he's just leading us into another trap?"

Surprising them again, the Trickster spun on his heel to face them. This time, his expression was oddly grave.

“Make no mistake. I am not to be trusted. And any man who does trust me is a fool. But I will say this. I am not here to divide you. I am here to help you. And with that said, let's go.”

*****