Once again, Thora checked the bandages to see how things were healing. The armour had held up, but the dwarf had not fared quite as well. It was becoming a regular habit at this point to settle down for the evening and check to make sure how all of the near-lethal wounds were healing. If Thora wasn’t more careful, well… it didn’t bear thinking about. There had been that moment earlier that day, when Thora hadn’t seemed to feel anything anymore, where it had been close. The dwarf had felt the pull…

The soldier shook away these dark thoughts, back to the present. Right now, the dwarf was surrounded by friends that had saved Thora’s life earlier that day. It was strange to think how quiet a day it had started out as.

Spy game

A few days ago, they had left the silver mine behind, saying goodbye to the miners. It had been quite some time since Thora had been amongst other dwarves and it brought back a bit of the feeling of home. Tunnels under the mountains, good food, and loud laughs, it was all very hard to walk away from. However, the adventurers had dreams of seeing Enker up close and it would be a long road ahead of them.

As they packed up the wagon with the supplies and gear they had found in the mines, Alandal broached the subject on everyone’s mind.

“Are we certain the gnolls won’t continue to be a threat?” the bard asked, likely rhetorically. “They’ve already tried to kill the dwarves once.”

“Do you think we could negotiate some sort of truce” wondered Thora, aloud. “It seems like both parties could benefit.”

It was the wizard, Duanne, who mapped out a tactical approach.

“We should arrive after nightfall, when the moons are high, see?” began the tortle, drawing a crude map in the dirt with his peg leg. “We stop just north of the camp, sticking to the road like any traveler.”

The sketch in the dirt outlined what appeared to be a giant tent off the main road, with what Thora assumed was the wagon positioned back on the main road.

“The dwarf approaches silently from the north, to here” continued Duanne, his peg leg slashing a moving motion across the dirt map. “Report back and then we make our move.”

It seemed like as good a plan as any. The wizard really had a knack for this type of thinking. Of course, if this was going to be a true negotiation, they would need to bring some of the dwarven miners with them. Fortunately, a few of the braver ones amongst the miners were willing to travel with them to the gnoll camp.

Since it was a short ride to their agreed-upon stopping point, they would have to wait until sundown to get on the road if they wanted the full darkness of the night’s sky to cover their approach. This gave them all the time to prepare and gather their things. Once they hit the road, Thora guided their wagon effortlessly towards the camp, with Zearach again acting as advance scout on a horse up ahead. About an hour or two in, the elf had held up an arm to signal them to a stop. In the distance, the light of a large fire was barely visible in the fields to the side of the main road.

The group kept their words to a minimum, knowing what had to be done and wanting to attract as little attention as possible. Thora handed the reins to Alandal and hopped down, strapping both blades on in preparation. The soldier pulled a dark hood up to conceal themself as much as possible in the dim light of the moon, slipping noiselessly across the desert sand towards the nearby mesa.

As Thora approached, the dwarf looked for signs of a lookout at the northern tip of the camp. The place was heavily fortified with wooden spears and fencing regularly spaced out, but the most obvious feature was a massive tent structure that seemed to dominate the near portion of the mesa. The dwarf reached the rock wall without incident, listening intently for the sounds of guards above.

“Just like in Grolnir” the warrior thought, remembering an early mission where Thora had been asked to climb a sheer cliff to assess an enemy position. Hopefully this one would work out better, though, because the dwarf was fairly certain they had fallen the last time.

Placing one hand above the other, Thora tested the rock wall for grip and made the short climb up to the edge of the mesa, peering over the stone lip. There was not much other than storage and a strange sound coming from the large tented structure nearby. Scaling back down, Thora used the short mesa well as cover, slinking along and then climbing again, this time closer to the massive tent. The sight that greeted the dwarf was unexpected.

The chanting sounds were coming from a circle of female gnolls who were gathered around a large stone slab in the center of the tent structure. Laid upon the slab, delicately positioned and holding a collection of flowers, was one of the dwarven miners that had left Wilted Gulch. Based on the description the other miners had provided, it was likely Mordrin, the dwarf who had gone to speak to the gnolls. The priestesses, if that’s what they were, appeared to be holding some sort of funereal rite for the dead, though clearly a different tradition than the ones Thora was used to.

Thora silently scaled back down to the ground below. They needed to regroup and come up with a decision based on what the dwarf had just seen. Quickly scouting out the defenses at the main gates, Thora gathered the basic intel they needed and returned to the group to consider their options. After relaying the seemingly peaceful approach taken by the gnolls, and what seemed to be understaffed guard posts, it didn’t seem like the tribe was posing any violent threat to the dwarven miners at the moment. Perhaps a more diplomatic approach could be used.

Meeting the matriarch

This part of the mission was one Thora would happily hang back from. With a few dwarven emissaries from the mine in tow, the soldier happily took on the role of honour guard and allowed Alandal and Duanne to do the talking. Negotiation was not the dwarf’s strong suit.

“Do you think it’s safe?” inquired one of the miners, whispering in dwarven. He was clearly nervous about entering a gnoll camp where they would likely be outnumbered and an easy snack.

“Do not worry, saman” Thora comforted, laying a hand upon the miners shoulder. “While I aim to keep these blades sheathed, you will be under our protection the entire time.”

Ahead of them, the wizard and bard had just gotten within shouting distance of the western gate. Spears were planted in the ground, animal heads upon them as a menacing warning to those who would dare come forward. The strong scent of hide and leather drifted on the chill night wind as they approached, combined with the welcoming scent of burning firepits. In the darkness before them stood a single young gnoll, smaller than those they had encountered in the mines, shivering in a large cloak. He shouted something as Duanne and Alandal approached, trying his best to appear threatening, but Thora couldn’t quite make out the words. While the dwarves couldn’t understand the gnoll, Thora could tell from the stance and the way the guard held their pike that this young gnoll had not been in many battles before. There was no immediate danger here.

Somehow, Alandal and Duanne were able to talk their way into having a meeting with the leader of the tribe. The gnoll disappeared for a moment, shouting something back into the camp. A few minutes later, a figure in robes approached the gateway, a regal nature in her movements. She held her head proudly, with a sense of power about her, but Thora could tell by her body language that she held no hostility towards them. There was a calmness to her presence that immediately put others at ease.

It seemed their visit was not entirely unexpected. Solemnly, Duanne returned the necklaces of the fallen gnoll warriors, as Alandal explained what had happened.

“I see you understand” the matriarch said with great sadness in her voice. “The poor fools. Jumani has played her tricks on us once again.”

Welcoming them into the camp, the matriarch walked with them, explaining the unfortunate series of events that occurred. Around the camp were many children and families, peeking out from behind tents at the newcomers. There was worry, but also curiosity.

“Every few months, Jumani fills with rage and casts her blood light upon us” the matriarch began, pointing towards the orange-tinted moon. “Our blood pact drives our males to great power, but also great carelessness. To keep the women and children safe during this time, the men are brought here.”

The matriarch gestured towards an arena-like pit in the center of the camp. Blood was spattered upon the ground and on the walls. Several corpses of devoured animals lay on the surface of the arena.

“In this place, they accept Jumani’s power and battle to be crowned a victor, feasting on a great animal as their prize. In this way we honour our blood pact. It was an unfortunate time for your friend to arrive.”

The gnoll leader, who went by the given name Matriarch, explained how the dwarf, Mordrin, had arrived in the night, drunkenly rambling about animal gifts, and interrupting a blood moon ceremony. The gnolls tried to get the inebriated miner to leave but he forced his way in, screaming about the disgusting nature of their rituals before vomiting on their war chief.

“It was a series of unfortunate events” concluded the Matriarch, as she led them to the large temple tent that Thora had spied earlier. There Mordrin lay, the flowers still on his body. “We have prayed for his soul that his journey be swift and safe.”

Thora slowly walked forward with the miners and they lifted Mordrin upon their shoulders, carrying him out to the wagon while Duanne and Alandal completed the attempt at negotiations with the Matriarch. It seemed the gnoll leader was rather impressed that Wilted Gulch was now under the lead of a Matriarch such as herself. As they were leaving the tent, Thora could swear they had heard the wizard talking about putting up signage, but that couldn’t have been correct. Thora must have misheard.

Back to Wilted Gulch

After dropping off the miners, and the remains of their cousin Mordrin, at the mine, the long journey to Wilted Gulch began. This time, Thora was able to more casually approach their path home and not worry about keeping up an excessive pace. It was nice to take in the scenery on the way back and joke around with the others, getting to know each other a little bit better. Thora even took the opportunity for a rest from the reins and settled into the back to knit and read for a few hours. The soldier had been thumbing threw the Tales of Enker from time to time, but it was nice to have a moment to read through a full tale. Sometimes, the dwarf wondered how accurate to the realities of the Enkerian empire the book might be, though. One paragraph, in particular, caused Thora to doubt some of the accuracy of the story:

In the hallowed halls of Enker’s forgotten temples, amidst the whispering shadows and the ethereal glow of ancient runes, there arose a legend of unparalleled audacity. Enter Tziana, the celestial huntress, whose laughter echoed like the chiming of a thousand silver bells across the moonlit glades. With hair spun from strands of stardust and eyes that sparkled with the light of a thousand constellations, she embarked on a quest that defied the very fabric of reality itself: to ride upon the back of a majestic phoenix, soaring through the celestial firmament in pursuit of the elusive moonbeams. And as she chased the elusive moonbeams, her laughter mingled with the celestial melodies, echoing through the ages.

Wings of Starlight, Tales of Enker

It took a few days to make it back to town and see Sheriff Deen for their reward. The Sheriff seemed surprised at how much they’d been able to accomplish in the week since they’d been in town, what with clearing a mine, saving the dwarves, and establishing a peaceful negotiation with a neighbouring tribe. While the reward for the work was nice, Thora most appreciated the words of recommendation from Deen herself. There was an extra level of pride in your work when you see how much somebody else values the help you have provided.

Since they had quite a few small errands to run here in town before moving along, Thora decided to spend some time at the forge working with some of the silver they had found in the mine. It was good quality material to work with and with a little bit of time the former smith had crafted a fine handaxe for Zearach. Getting just the right balance on the hilt was the tricky part, with the head being so off-center, but Thora’s favourite part was always the rune work. Getting fine detail in on a piece like this really helped make the blade feel special. A better smith could have likely created a finer weapon, but Thora hoped that Zearach would recognize the effort that the soldier had made to forge something unique for the elf.

Working in the forge all day brought back a lot of memories of home. As Thora had pounded the silver into shape, it felt as if every strike was creating a rhythm backed by the sounds of the Sakhar mountains… and family. The dwarf felt as if their beka was right there, reading her latest literary interest aloud for the whole room to hear. Thora laughed quietly, recalling how often the tales would suddenly turn a little too bawdy for children’s ears, and the way her face would turn red as she suddenly stopped the story and would flip forward, attempting to find the continuation of the plot. Thora’s mother had hoarded books like a dragon with gold, stuffed in all the corners of the home. It was a wonder they had room to store anything else at all!

When the day’s work was done, Thora cleaned up the work area and headed out to the shops on the way back to meet the others. After the visit to the gnoll camp, the dwarf had been thinking of being better prepared for cliff scaling and wanted to pick up some climbing gear. You never know when the next mesa might be in your way! After paying and stepping back into the streets, Thora found Duanne outside talking to all of the townspeople. The tortle was hunting for something specific and seemingly rare in Wilted Gulch, but he wasn’t giving up easily. The dwarf knew enough to stay out of wizarding business and made his way over to Andy Deen’s tavern to rest for the evening.

As the others arrived and joined Thora at the table over the course of the evening, they all talked about where they could travel next. It had only been a week or so together, but Thora already owed the others a life-debt multiple times over. It felt like fate had drawn them together in some way and the soldier wanted to see where this was leading.

“We all first came to Wilted Gulch with a goal” Thora began. “I was looking for adventure, and a chance to get something to allow me to explore the Enkerian Empire. The Sheriff here has given us that. Should we try to make our way there?”

“That’s a long trip, friend” warned Zearach, in his calm tone. “At least a ten-day to get to Embassy, if we push hard. Could be worth it, though.”

“I’m sure there will be towns along the way where we could stop to break up the trip” Duanne confidently stated. “Travel by road won’t be that dangerous and we can have a great meal in a few days.”

Those words would come to haunt them.

Put it back

In the morning, Thora prepared the horses and cart for the trip ahead of them and took to the driver’s seat, as per their normal routine. While they were trained for riding, these horses had gone through this process enough times that it was becoming a comfortable routine for all of them. The day seemed to promise excellent riding weather which put the crew into a good mood. They said their goodbyes to Deen and their new friends in Wilted Gulch and began the trip south on the main roadway.

The hot sun beat down upon them as they travelled along the dusty road, but Thora’s hood kept the worst of it at bay. They hadn’t seen many souls upon their travels, and even fewer wildlife, so the monotony of the road was broken when they came upon a large crater just off the roadway. It must have been a good twenty lengths across, sloping down slightly in what seemed like a perfect circle. In the center of the crater was an unknown object, dimly glowing. Thora did not like the look of this.

Duanne, hoping to understand more about the strange glowing object, began a complex focused ritual, eyes closed and beak muttering out strange arcane words that Thora didn’t understand. Picking up a stone, the dwarf tossed it along the crater surface, trying to see what might happen, but there was no apparent effect. Alandal, who had been carefully considering an option, began a slow rhythmic drumming accompanied by a lilting chant. The glowing object at the center of the crater began to rise into the air, floating slowly towards them above the ground, as if held by some invisible force. As it neared them, it became more obvious that it was some sort of stick or club that was giving off the glowing light.

“Are you sure we should be touching that thing?” Thora questioned, clearly not happy about the idea of a strange glowing object. “I’m not the superstitious type, but somebody clearly wanted get rid of that thing and has tossed it a LONG way, given that impact crater.”

Duanne, however, seemed to hold no regard for his safety or the safety of others. The wizard simply plucked the glowing club out of the air, with a look of childlike glee, and then immediately was assaulted with a psychic force that took his entire mental strength to ward off.

“It would make such a nice leg” moaned the tortle, clearly torn on what to do with it. Eventually the wizard stowed the club away for later use, but Thora wondered how bad it must have been that Duanne took the reasonable course of action. There was still a glint in the tortle’s eye, though, as if he was thinking of ways to benefit from using this new cursed thing.

Leaving the crater behind, the wagon continued forward, the glowing cursed thing joining them as a new travelling companion. As Thora held the reins, guiding them onward down the road, the dwarf wondered if perhaps they would regret not putting that thing back where it came from.

Lured into a trap

After several more hours, Thora’s eyes were starting to lose focus. Not wanting to stop their progress, the dwarf asked Alandal to take the reins for a little while so that the soldier could grab a few hours of sleep. Even with the bumps in the road, Thora never found it difficult to fall asleep in the back of the cart. Back in the army, they had been told to get sleep when you could, where you could, and so the habit of being able to rest in pretty much any situation had been driven into them. The only issue, it seemed, were the recurring nightmares.

This time, however, the dwarf’s dreams turned a different direction. Thora was filled with a pleasant sense of belonging and peace. It was as if all the worries of the world had slipped away and been replaced with complete happiness. A serene smile covered the soldier’s face as the wagon’s bumping came to a stop. A rough claw shook Thora’s body, jolting the dwarf out of the dream only to find that the serenity of the dreamworld had not faded away.

“Don’t you hear it?” mumbled the dwarf. “It’s so beautiful.”

The others seemed to be cautiously looking around them, but Thora could not hold back. Vaulting down from the wagon, the dwarf’s thick legs pumped hard as Thora rushed forward toward a rocky outcropping at the side of the road. Why weren’t the others following? This was where they were meant to be. The safety. The peace. No more nightmares would await them here.

It was at that moment when pain erupted through Thora’s mind. Many sets of claws raked against their face and shoulders, tearing at the flesh. The ambush was swift and efficient and, while it did break the hold on the dwarf, the pain was excruciating. Thora’s senses finally become aware of the flapping wings all around, the blows of clubs and claws raining down from above. Wildly swinging both blades in the air, the dwarf tried to make a last stand but was driven to a knee. Then, finally, the world went dark.

There were no dreams in this place. Thora had enough presence of mind to recognize that something was off, as if all of the dwarf’s senses were dulled. There was a part of the soldier that was denying what was happening, that refused to be taken out this way. Another part, though, felt the pull of the light in the distance. It had that same feeling of peace emanating from it.

It seemed impossible, but Thora could swear that the sounds of battle were still somewhere in the air, as if very far away. There were screams and shrieks. Quiet, muffled, but there. The part of Thora that wanted to live was saying that friends needed help, that this was no time to be laying about. A mental image of drill sergeant Kalnok shouting “GET UP SOLDIER!” caused the dwarf to smile. Still, Thora’s feet kept walking toward that light.

A stout shape was standing in the light, wings spread out from its shoulders, arms welcoming Thora forward.

“Belgar?” Thora questioned, unsure of what could have brought the soldier’s uncle here to this place.

When the stream of magic filled Thora’s body, it felt liked being wrenched away from that peace with a sudden force. It was disorienting, and when the dwarf’s eyes opened there was a flood of sensations and sounds. Alandal’s dragonborn form hunched over him, the emotion hidden in his reptilian eyes. Pushing up to a standing position, Thora looked around at the winged bodies and the beleaguered and panting expressions of the dwarf’s companions. Zearach’s new blade, once shining silver with the fresh rune engravings of Thora’s work, was covered in blood, gore, and feathers. When the others told the tale later, the dwarf learned that the elf had acted heroically, cutting into one harpy after another, while the others did everything in their power to fight their way to Thora.

There were not enough words to express the gratitude that Thora felt towards these brave companions. There was yet another life-debt owed. Thora smiled and hugged them all.

Credits

• Cover image: “Harpy”, by Kristina Li(sourced from: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EQc8pihXUAEfBnm?format=jpg&name=large)
• Gnoll matriarch image: “Gnoll Matriarch”, generated by Jason St-Cyr using NightCafe
• Handaxe image: “Zearach’s Handaxe”, generated by Jason St-Cyr using NightCafe