After dark, a great, glowing whirlwind spun around the top of the mound, igniting members of the attacking force. As their bodies scattered down the slope, they looked to Alias, from a distance, like sparkling seeds falling away from a flaming dandelion.
“Well, it certainly is more amusing to watch than your standard campfire,” Olive commented. “Though it lacks a certain warmth.”
They hadn’t dared light their own campfire for fear of being discovered by a foraging patrol, so after a cold dinner, the four adventurers sat huddled against the overturned wagon as the night air grew more and more chill. Olive shivered, wrapped beneath her own cloak and two of Akabar’s. The mage affected a pose of calm unconcern, but Alias caught him blowing into his cupped hands, trying to keep them warm. Dragonbait kept peering around the side of the wagon, fascinated by Yulash mound. The horses, tethered nearby behind the one remaining wall of an ancient farmer’s cottage, whickered uncomfortably. Dragonbait echoed the sound, though whether he was trying to comfort them or agreeing with them Alias could not tell.
In the soft glow of the finder’s stone, Alias could not escape the halfling’s accusatory stare or Akabar’s expectant one. “When I led us up here, I had no idea the area would be so unsettled.” Each intermittent flash from the city’s ruins drew her attention. I feel like a moth, she thought, trying to get into a lantern, beating against the glass. Somewhere in that maze of ruins lies the answer to my curse—I’m sure of it.
“I had assumed the city would be firmly in the hands of one side or the other. Then we could use the same trick we used in the dragon’s lair. Akabar would scout ahead with his wizard eye trick, Olive would accompany me to help with locks, traps, and other tricky parts, and Dragonbait would remain behind with the gear.”
Olive muttered something about “thief’s tricks,” and Dragonbait scowled, but Alias ignored them both. “However,” she continued, “that was all assuming we only had to elude a sleepy city guard. With two active forces looking for enemy troops, our chances of sneaking in unnoticed are …” she hesitated, trying not to sound falsely optimistic.
“Slim,” Akabar suggested.
“Try nil,” Olive retorted. “Humans. Always fighting over who gets the better view.”
“They don’t battle over it just because it’s the only major terrain between the forest and the river,” Akabar lectured. “Remember, it sits on the route south from Zhentil Keep. If Hillsfar should take and hold the city, they would effectively blockade Zhentil Keep’s bulk trade.”
“And there’s probably more gold and treasure left in the wreckage, in hidden cellars and dungeons, than in the active mines of the dwarves,” Alias added.
Olive perked up a little, cheered by the thought of treasure. Dragonbait stood and walked over to the horses to stroke Lightning. All the while the lizard’s eyes remained fixed on the glowing hill.
Akabar followed the lizard.
“Where are you going?” Alias called to him.
“To help Dragonbait with the horses.”
“You’ve been fussing over him ever since we left Shadowdale,” the warrior noted. “Helping him fetch wood, keeping watch with him. He can take care of himself.” She tugged on the mage’s robes until he was forced to sit back down beside her. “Now, what do you think our chances would be if we contacted one side or the other to make a deal?”
Trying not to appear too distracted with keeping an eye on Dragonbait, Akabar said, “If you do, contact Hillsfar. Their ruler, I’ve heard, is a merchant-mage like myself. His name is Maalthir. If one of these forces is indeed his, it will include a company of his prize mercenaries, the Red Plumes. We need only look for their banner.”
“Yes, then we’ll have found the Red Death,” Olive growled. “That’s what Maalthir’s mercenaries are called among my people. Under his orders, they carried out a campaign to purge Hillsfar of thieves. Human thieves could hide, but all halflings were thieves, as far as Maalthir’s Red Death was concerned. They drove every halfling from the city in the middle of the night, forced them to leave their valuables behind, didn’t even give them a chance to sell the land or shops they owned.
“As distasteful as Hillsfar’s policies might be, you can hardly expect us to deal with the baby-slaying Keepers. I’ve heard that they plight their troth with succubi, eat the brains of elves, and worship gods so black they make Moander seem nice. Their names are feared as far south as my native land. And the council who rules them, the Zhentarim, are twice as dark as the Keepers.”
“I didn’t suggest we deal with the Keepers,” Olive replied. “I was only reporting on the firsthand news I have about the Hillsfar government. I have no reason to expect better of the Zhentil Keep soldiery. They’re all human, too, at least mostly, I’m told. You must realize, though, that all the accusations you’ve made against Zhentil Keep are the standard lies told about any successful city by its jealous enemies.”
“There are too many stories told of the Zhentarim for them all to be lies. As a bard you must know stories of their methods—how they secretly support orcs so they will attack any who oppose the Zhentarim’s will.”
“And as a bard,” Olive said, “I have the ability to separate the grain from the dross.”
“Gold,” corrected Akabar. “Gold from dross. Grain from chaff.”
Alias sighed and stood up. The mage and the bard could argue until Yulash was dust. She strode over to watch the battle with Dragonbait. As the finder’s stone illuminated their mounts, she could see the beasts stood alone. She poked her head around the wall, but the lizard was not there. She went back to the wagon and peeked around that, but he wasn’t there either.
Olive was continuing her testimony on the cruelty of the Hillsfar people, while Akabar was trying to interrupt her with some point about the evil of the Zhentarim.
Made impatient with a sudden attack of anxiety, Alias snapped at both of them. “Listen to yourselves. You’re not disagreeing with each other, you’re just arguing for the sake of arguing. Can’t you see something’s wrong?”
“What is it?” Akabar asked.
“Dragonbait’s gone,” she whispered.
“Gone where?” Akabar asked, glancing around their campsite while cursing himself for not keeping an eye on the potentially treacherous lizard.
“Just gone,” Alias said. A particularly bright flash filled the sky, and thunder rumbled all about them. The swordswoman peered across the momentarily illuminated open fields, but she could not pick out the lizard’s figure.
“Perhaps you better stay down,” Akabar suggested.
“He’s disappeared,” Alias whispered, still standing.
“He’s probably only out looking for firewood or something,” Olive suggested.
“We haven’t got a fire,” Akabar growled.
“Maybe he decided we should have one,” Olive retorted.
If I hadn’t been such a fool, Akabar berated himself, arguing with the halfling and allowing myself to be distracted from watching the lizard, this wouldn’t have happened. Who knows what sort of betrayal I’ve let us in for now?
“Or he could be out filching us a nice, hot, ten-course meal, with wine,” Olive continued brightly.
Alias scowled. She noticed Akabar frowning as well. She hadn’t realized he cared for Dragonbait as much as she.
Should I tell her about the lizard’s brands, Akabar debated. I can’t prove it now, and it still might not make her doubt him. No, better just to watch for him.
Alias stared at the city. The crackling of the fires and magics burning there pulled at her like a siren’s call. Olive could be right. But suppose he’s scouting out the territory to prove he should not be left behind? It was one thing to leave him guarding the equipment or even to have him fighting at her side, but imagining him out there, alone, unable to call for help, not even if he were injured.… Alias moaned softly, feeling suddenly miserable.