Radegast checked the soles of her boots to
make sure she hadn’t stepped in anything. Then she slowly exhaled and swept the
room with her eyes, looking for clues.
In her mind’s eye, she saw Dalleg resting
in bed, perhaps sleeping off the worst of his hangover, while the door to his
room opened on its hinges with no damage done to the lock. The blurred shape of
a humanoid figure walked over to the bedside, drew a sword, and plunged it into
Dalleg’s supine form repeatedly, once, twice, three times, a fourth, and a
fifth through the heart so forcefully that it punctured the mattress beneath
him.
Radegast shook her head. “You know what?
I’m too tired for this.”
Erwen looked around the room also and spied
a potted flower wilting on the windowsill, where the curtains had been drawn
against the harsh light of dawn that Dalleg did not live to see.
A smile tugged at the corner of the druid’s
mouth as he cast speak with plants.
-AAAA
I AM DYING OH GREAT SUN WHERE ARE YOUR RAYS OH HELP ME I AM SO THIRSTY AAAAA I
NEVER EVEN GOT TO SPREAD MY POLLEN AAAAA-
The houseplant’s agonized rant rang in
Erwen’s ears. He quickly cast druidcraft to give the starved flower some light
and water and make it more comfortable generally.
-AAAAA…Oh,
thank you! That’s very nice! The flower said to
Erwen, stretching out its petals and leaves to drink in the sunlight. I was ripped from my flowerbed and jammed
into this tiny coffin to die .
“No trouble at all, my flowering friend,”
Erwen said to the houseplant. “Tell me, what is your name?”
I am
called Stemly , the flower said.
“Well, Stemly, can you tell me what
happened here tonight?” Erwen asked.
I
saw…I saw a bunch of two-roots here in this room, speaking with the one lying
in its own flowerbed, Stemly said. Including that one over there with the long petals
growing out of its head. The plant waved a leaf in Radegast’s direction. Then they left the one in its flowerbed.
“With you so far,” Erwen said.
One
of them returned when the sun’s rays were weak ,
Stemly said.
“Uh, which one?” Erwen tried to describe
his companions in a way that a common houseplant would understand. “The one
with a cloak of red petals? The stout silver birch? The, er, brown one?”
Stemly nodded at the last. Yes, the bullky brown one returned and spoke
with the one who lay like grass in the shade. Then the tall one…took out
shears…no, a scythe…and…
“And what?” prompted Erwen.
“And..threshed the other one until there was nothing left! It was a bloody
harvest!”
“Geez, that’s dark,” Erwen said.
Radegast turned to see Erwen locked in
close conversation with the houseplant. Motes of pollen seemed to dance around
the druid’s head.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Erwen turned to her. “Nothing!” he said.
“But I do know that Bob, Varien, and Alec were here not long ago.”
“How did you know that?” Radegast asked.
“You didn’t see us check in to the Venturer’s Rest, did you?”
Erwen grinned sheepishly.
Radegast frowned. “What are you hiding from
me, little man?”
“There was a witness,” Erwen explained, pointing
at Stemly.
Radegast’s eyes widened. “You can speak
with plants?”
“Yes,” Erwen said proudly. He informed
Radegast of what he had learned.
“Oh balls,” Radegast sighed. “Someone in
this town hates us already.”
“What do you mean?” Erwen asked.
“Why else would a killer disguise himself
as one of us to come in and kill Dalleg?” Radegast asked.
“That question is over my head,” Erwen
said. “Literally.”
“Okay, how about this?” Radegast said.
“Someone snuck into a bear’s den disguised as a bear to slaughter a bear’s cub,
and he carried with him a vial of bear piss to spread around and cover his
tracks.”
“I can get you some bear piss if you need
it,” Erwen said.
“I’m good for bear piss, thanks,” Radegast
said. “But understand, the killer can make this bear piss smell like any bear
he wants it to.”
Erwen nodded vigorously. “I get it!”
“So, and stay with me here,” Radegast
continued. “The killer disguises himself as Alec to kill Dalleg. Dalleg was
Alec’s comrade-in-arms, his friend.”
“The plant saw Alec,” Erwen said. “I mean…”
“Remember that dragon man you used to
travel with?” Radegast said. “He could change his face, couldn’t he?”
Erwen nodded. “So can I! Look, I’m a cat!” He attempted to wildshape into cat
form, but he had sapped his druidic magic and couldn’t do more than sprout a
few whiskers.
Radegast patted Erwen’s head. “Well, at any
rate, someone is trying to frame our friend Alec for murder.”
“Why would they do that?” Erwen asked.
“Because they are arseholes.” Radegast
declared. “But, I know somebody with an in with the arseholes who run this
town.”
“We’re in an inn!” Erwen chirped helpfully.
“Uh, yes, that’s right Erwen, we are.”
Radegast replied.
“So where do we go next?” Erwen asked.
“Back to where you blew up half the
neighbourhood.” Radegast said.
Erwen’s face fell. “Do we have to?”
“Lead the way,” Radegast said firmly. Her
expression softened. “And then we’ll find you a nice patch of grass to roll
around on.”
Erwen grinned. “You know, maybe I can find
someone too! Stemly might have some friends who saw something.”
“Who is Stemly?” Radegast asked.
Erwen shrugged. “A friend.” He picked up
the flower and tucked it into his satchel.
“Yes, well, we have to find Alec,” Radegast
said. Her eyes widened with realization. “Oh, balls, we have to hide Alec!”
“Hide him?” Erwen asked.
“Alec’s been framed for murder in a town
obsessed with finding criminals and blaming them for more than what they’ve
done,” Radegast explained.
Erwen nodded. “Yes, let’s make Alec safe!”
Radegast looked the battered Halfling over.
“Do you need some healing?” she asked.
Erwen shook his head. “I actually think I’m
a healer?” he said uncertainly.
“Yes, well then, heal thyself, cleric,”
Radegast said, looking around the room. “Then let’s find our friends.”
“We are stronger as one,” Erwen agreed.
“Unless you can find them supernaturally?”
Radegast asked hopefully.
Erwen shook his head. “As long as we get
outside the walls of this city soon,” he said. “I don’t like staying indoors
very long.”
“Well, how do you feel about tearing down
walls?” Radegast asked.
Erwen considered this. “Pretty good,
actually!”
“Good, we might need to tear down some
walls later on,” Radegast said. She considered the crime scene. “Okay, so we’d
better lock the door behind us.” She and Erwen moved out into the hallway and
shut the door, locking it.
“Hmmm,” Radegast said. “When I was in
college, my roommate used to hang something frilly from the doorknob to let me
know she was, er, entertaining a guest that evening.”
Erwen bent over and pulled one of his muddy
socks off. “Here,” he said, handing the damp sock to Radegast. “I know what you
mean – Carp is such a pain in my ass I had to teach him not to knock when he
sees the sock.”
Radegast held it away from her between
thumb and forefinger, fitting it gingerly over the knob and wiping her hand on
the wall. “Quite,” she said.
“All right, let’s saddle up,” Erwen said.
“Allow me.” He cast pass without trace
on the two of them.
The pair walked nonchalantly down the
stairs to the inn’s common room, where a bard was strumming his instrument
while trying to hold the attention of the half-dozen tables full of last-call
enthusiasts. Radegast and Erwen threaded through the crowd without attracting
any wayward glances and were out into the dark streets moments later.
Varien stood, sword at the ready, as he and
the Brothers Trevelyan prepared to delve deeper into the sewers beneath the
streets of Scar Alley.
A voice echoed from the hole in the
basement behind them.
“Varien Aether!” Jamie Lysandra called.
“Can you hear me?”
“What do you want, Lysandra!” Varien
called, his voice edged with anger and impatience.
“What do you see down there?” Lysandra
called.
“Perverts!” Alec shouted. “Dead perverts,
and rocks!”
“Quiet,” Varien hissed. He turned and
shouted. “I stabbed a few things!”
“We stabbed a few things, you mean,” Bob
said.
“There are more things that want nothing
more than to be dead at my hand down here!” Varien said. “Not undead, but
things that bleed their own blood. Things that like to choke the air from my
lungs!”
“Extricate yourselves before we seal this
breach,” Jamie shouted. “You’re running out of time!”
“That would be the asshole response, yes,”
Varien muttered. He raised his voice. “Look Lysandra, I saw a necromancer down here
that I’ve killed once already, just weeks ago, and now I am very angry!”
“Are you sure you killed him?” Alec asked.
“Trust me when I say that the underground
is not a place you wish to tarry!” Jamie shouted.
“It’s fine,” Varien said. “We’re safe.”
“Do you feel safe?” Jamie asked.
“I have my sword, my shield, and my trusty
pair of meat shields!” Varien shouted. He quickly turned to Bob and Alec. “My
friends, I mean. My friends.”
“We understand if you’re scared,
Lannister!” Bob shouted up to Jamie.
“Don’t you start!” Jamie shouted. “Why do
you think we are reluctant to let refugees back behind the safety of our walls,
when we cannot yet guarantee the safety beneath their feet!”
“If we do come up, do you promise us a
ladder back down?” Varien asked. “I’m not done with these sewers, yet.”
“Clearing these sewers is on our agenda, but it must be done in a systematic
way!” Jamie said. “Come up and we’ll speak more about this.”
“So there is a plan involving stabbing
necromancers?” Varien asked.
“Varien, if we leave now, we will probably
get a chance to stab necromancers come the morrow,” Bob said.
“I cannot guarantee your safety if you
remain underground,” Jamie was saying. “If we don’t pull you out now…listen to
me, you cannot trust what your eyes show you down there!”
“What are you talking about?” Varien asked.
“We are not prepared to deal effectively
with a breach like this!” Jamie said. “My understanding is that the last patrol
we sent below ground never returned!”
“Well, we’re willing to go in,” Varien
said. “As we’ve just demonstrated.”
“Your bravery is commendable, paladin!”
Jamie said. “Perhaps I can speak with my superiors to arrange an officially
sanctioned delve into the depths.”
“You said I can’t trust my eyes, what’s
that about?” Varien asked. “Are the tunnels somehow luring me deeper with
visions?” He turned to the tunnel and shouted, “Why do you desire to harm me?”
“Look, that question is above my pay
grade,” Jamie said. “I have heard rumours though - strange magic, strange
sights, and strange sounds.”
“Hence the necessity of closing the
breach,” Bob said.
“Fine!” Varien said. “We shall take our
leave, but we ain’t done here.” He turned back to the tunnel. “You hear me? We
ain’t done here, spooky tunnel!”
His voice echoed down the length of the
sewer tunnel.
Varien stomped back to the ruined basement
and climbed out of the pit, ignoring Jamie’s outstretched hand. Bob and Alec
followed, casting final glances behind them at the shadowy tunnel.
Erwen led Radegast back into the Scar Alley
neighbourhood, the pair moving quietly from rooftop to rooftop until they were
just one street away from the site of their hasty departure just hours before.
They could see members of the town guard and the Gilded Eye milling around the
two ruined sections, and from their hiding spot spied Varien, Bob, and Alec as
they crawled out from the rubble to dust themselves off. They were exchanging
tense words with Jamie Lysandra. Radegast felt her throat go dry.
“Were they inside that building when I
wrecked it?” Erwen hissed at Radegast, wide-eyed.
“No my little dullard, I’d wager they heard
the ruckus and came to our aid, only to find us missing,” Radegast whispered
back. “Now, let’s-”
Erwen was already sliding down the
drainpipe and creeping up to his companions.
Radegast sighed and shook her head.
Standing with the Gilded Eye were wizards
and clerics who began to weave magic and cast spells into the pit, sealing the
hole in the street while flashes of light and the groans of stone. The
buildings finished their collapse, sending a cloud of dust skyward.
Erwen approached Varien and stood at his
side. “Geez, what happened to you?” he asked the battered paladin.
Varien looked down, speechless.
Jamie was speaking sternly to the group.
“Tomorrow morning you may approach the Inner Court that holds the Grand
Cathedral of Helm, and we will petition the Holy Watcher for a blessing over
your crusade below ground.”
Varien shrugged.
Jamie turned to his men. “Form a detail to
stand watch over the sealed breaches and report and further disturbances. Send
a runner if need be.”
He turned back to the group. “In the
meantime, do not attempt to leave Helm’s Hold before your meeting with the Holy
Watcher and the Inquisitor tomorrow.”
“Is that a threat?” Bob asked.
Jamie shrugged. “Take it as you like.”
From her hiding spot, Radegast considered
conjuring a note and sending it flying into Jamie’s pocket, but dismissed the
idea as too fanciful to work.
As Jamie took his leave and strode up the
street away from her companions, Radegast cast minor illusion to send a discreet whisper into her former lover’s
ear.
Murder
and deceit at the Venturer’s Rest, her voice
whispered. Do not trust those who you do
not already trust.
Without breaking stride, Jamie cast a
glance up at Radegast as she crouched atop the roof, as if he’d known she was
there the whole time.
Typical
Jamie , Radegast thought as she ducked out of sight.
Eyes in the back of his head.
“Erwen!” Varien rounded on the Halfling.
“Where the devil have you been?”
“It’s a long story,” Erwen said sheepishly.
“Where’s Radegast?” Bob asked.
Don’t
look up , Radegast’s voice whispered. I’m up here.
The party moved away from Scar Alley.
“Listen, Bob, I’ve got to find a bit of
green space to take a nap in,” Erwen said. “I’m really tired.”
“Fine, then you can meet us at the
Venturer’s Rest.” Bob indicated a disused street fountain, its reservoir choked
with unkempt grass. A statue of Helm stood over the reservoir. “There’s your
patch of green space.”
There was a rustle of dry leaves and Erwen
disappeared into the bush.
Radegast stepped out from the shadows
behind the group. “Lads, I’ve got bad news. Someone murdered Dalleg in his bed
tonight.”
“What?” Alec surged forward. “No!”
Erwen scooted until his back was against the
statue and pulled Stemly from his pocket, setting the plant beside him before
falling asleep. Radegast procured a tin cup and placed it in his hand, dropping
a silver coin and four coppers into it.
Erwen snored.
Radegast pulled out her lute and began
strumming a tune, using minor illusion to
keep whispering in her friends ears.
She relayed what she had learned from her
conversation with Jamie, what Erwen had told her about the noises beneath the
Cathedral, and what she’d seen at the Venturer’s Rest as well as what the
potted plant Stemly had told Erwen.
“The people in charge here are crazy, and
are looking for people to make it go away,” Radegast said. “And somebody
disguised themselves as Alec to murder Dalleg.”
“Who would have reason to do that?” Alec
asked.
“We have enemies in the city, and the
city’s leaders are predisposed to blame us,” Radegast said. “I’m sorry that
your friend was stabbed, Alec. Five times in the chest.”
Alec looked off into the middle distance.
“Ah, Dalleg…” his voice cracked a little, but he remained stoic. “Dalleg told
us that there were other survivors of the ambush,” he said. “Companions of
Haladar the Wizard: Tana Timbers, a gnome fighter, Ivellios Silverhand, an
elven rogue, and Ander Stormwind, a human. None of them were happy that Dalleg
had survived while the rest of their party didn’t.”
“What about that half-orc Dalleg
mentioned?” Bob asked.
“Grim Tallstag?” Alec said. “Dalleg didn’t
know what happened to him. Or me, for that matter.”
“None of the survivors held Dalleg in
particularly high regard,” Alec continued. “In fact he said that if we were
going to go talk to Tana about the scrying stone, that we would need to bring
backup.”
Alec turned to his friends. “And I didn’t
kill Dalleg, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“You’ve got a decent alibi, but it won’t
hold up in the Gilded Eye’s court, I can promise you that,” Radegast said.
“Listen, you think you’ve got problems?”
Varien pointed to a manhole in the street. “Glasstaff is down there!”
“Glasstaff?” Radegast repeated. “You mean
that wizard you said you killed in Phandalin? Are you sure you-”
“Of course I’m sure!” Varien shouted.
“So, what next?” Bob asked.
“Well, Erwen’s got the right idea,”
Radegast said. “I need sleep. And by the time I wake up,” she cast minor illusion to create a floating
image of Leomund’s Tiny Hut in the
palm of her hand. “I will have figured out how to cast this bad boy, which
gives us an eight-hour respite from the outside world, wherever we are. No more
sleeping with one eye open! We’ll be inside, safe as houses.”
“So, should we hunker down somewhere, or…”
Alec said.
“Well, we booked several rooms at the
Venturer’s Rest,” Radegast said. “We locked Dalleg’s room up tight.”
By this time the party had made it back to
the inn. They climbed the stairs and stopped outside the dead man’s room.
“I will stand watch over his body tonight,”
Alec declared. “It’s Helm’s way.”
“Sure,” Radegast nodded. “Might as well get
this over with.” She opened the door.
Alec stood at Dalleg’s bedside, a sad look
on his face.
Radegast moved to cover the body with the
blanket and stopped as she noticed something sticking out beneath the pillow.
“Hullo, what’s this?” she pulled it out.
It was a small wooden doll, finely crafted,
with articulated limbs and carved torso. Its face, however, was a little on the
grotesque side.
“No accounting for taste,” Radegast said.
She turned the doll over and fingered a small bump on its back. A hatch
swiveled out to reveal a small compartment, inside which was a lock of hair
tied up with a bow.
The hair looked like it had been cut from
Dalleg’s head.
“No way,” Radegast whispered. “A dreamthief
doll?” She knew that these small totems were popular in Neverwinter, used to
protect from the horrible nightmares that had plagued survivors of the
cataclysm of the Spellplague. She cast identify
on the object and detected an aura of enchantment that might well interfere
with the recall of anyone attuned to it.
“Let me guess, are these things under all
our pillows?” Radegast asked.
Alec nodded. “They’re made by patients in
the Grand Cathedral’s Sanatorium and distributed to the townspeople. Ward off
bad dreams, they do.”
Radegast shook her head. “So it’s not just
the underground,” she said. “Something is eating the dreams of the people in
Helm’s Hold. This is stronger than the evil at Old Owl Well.”
“What do you mean?” Bob asked.
“They’re making an entire city use
anti-nightmare dolls. Two cities, in fact!” Radegast said. “Who knows what they
could do with that kind of psychic power?”
“You’re jumping to conclusions, Radegast,”
Varien said.
“It’s what I do.” Radegast said. She placed
the doll back under Dalleg’s pillow. “Let’s give Alec some privacy.”
They left Alec to watch over the body of
his comrade and went to their rooms. Radegast and Varien shared the larger of
the two.
Radegast took a seat at a rickety writing
desk in the corner of the room as Varien took the bed.
“Now then, what’s this thing that’s been
digging into my side ever since we left the forest?” Radegast asked, pulling
out an oblong wooden box. She gave it a look over. The box was quite old,
several centuries at least, and its surface was carved intricately with a
scrollwork that suggested falling snowflakes, each one different than the
other.
“Very nice work,” Radegast murmured, tracing the artisanship to a region to the
southeast along the Delimbyr River. She checked the latches for traps, and then
gently opened it.
Nestled inside a velvet bed was a shard of
ice that glowed unnaturally. The icy shard was shaped like a dagger, and
Radegast could make out the traces of some sort of rune within the tang.
“Well well, what have we here?” Radegast
picked up the dagger. It was cold to the touch, but not uncomfortable to hold –
a numbness traced its way up her forearm but dissipated at her elbow.
She cast identify and suddenly knew she was holding a Shard of the Ise Rune , a wondrous item charged with rune magic.
“Neat,” she whispered, her breath fogging.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a
piece of parchment tucked into the velvet lining. It was aged to the point of
near-translucence, and had been folded and unfolded so many times, it was
almost in tatters.
Wishing she had all the proper preservation
tools of her home library, Radegast gingerly opened the letter and began to
read.
Mine
Dearest Auglathla,
Must
I beest cruel to beest kind? if 't be true I must, then so mote t beest.
This shard of frost, this winter’s kiss
Cold truth chills the flame of arrested bliss
I hath left thee warm, a heavy price
mine love now sheathed in thickest ice
I, who nev'r weep, now melt with woe,
That winter numbs our springtime so.
One ought not to chooseth between a cold heart
and a dead heart. Such choice I has't madeth; now the same choice falleth to
thee.
I remain,
Lambrac
“Lambrac?” Radegast said. “Where have I
heard that name before?”
Inspiration seized her, and she placed the
shard back into its box before rummaging through her pack, coming up with one
of the books she had recovered from Mormesk the Wraith.
The tome was entitled “The Chronicle of My
Friend Lambrac the Damned.”
“Lambrac!” Radegast shouted. “That’s it!”
“What?” Varien said, rolling over on the
bed to look at where Radegast was sitting.
“This, this is really exciting,” Radegast
said, warming to the subject. “Okay, so I found this ice dagger in a box we
pulled from Agatha the Banshee’s hut.”
“Right,” Varien said.
“Inside, there’s a note from a fellow calls
himself Lambrac,” Radegast continued. “He says he must be cruel to be kind, and
with this letter turns an elven sorceress into a damned Banshee!”
“Really?” Varien asked.
“He gives her this ice dagger and all but
tells her to kill herself because he’s not coming back to consummate their
relationship,” Radegast continued, leafing through the tome. “And this book we
found, it’s a chronicle of the Blade-King of Elembar, who claimed Lambrac as
his closest friend – a wizard and sage. Wait! Was Mormesk the Wraith in on this
too?” Radegast made a face. “Xylon, that idiot, he gave away that book, the
Malediction of Mormesk, to the Harpers! Mormesk’s spirit is inside, maybe he
could tell us more about Lambrac.”
“Who’s this Lambrac?” Varien said.
“It’s in this memoir written by Arthanas
the Blade-King of Elembar, who claims to have ruled starting in 402DR, nearly a
thousand years ago,” Radegast said. “Arthanas led a successful company of
adventurers including the Sage Lambrac, and this volume describes their journey
from adventurers to conquerors. It concludes with a cryptic description of
Lambrac’s downfall in 422DR, having to do with a mysterious “abyssal ledger”
that drove him mad. Lambrac committed suicide, but not before setting fire to
his library tower and killing his lover, Gwynnth. The Blade-King details his
attempts to salvage the library and deal with the aftermath of the episode –
claiming that the ledger defied all attempts to destroy it. At the conclusion
of the book he reports that he will lead an expedition to return the tome to
its original resting place.” Radegast flipped open the cover of the book. “Sewn
in here is some sort of mysterious, coded map I haven’t yet deciphered.”
“So what?” Varien said.
“So in Agatha’s hut here we find this
little present from Lambrac to Auglathla, which is Elvish for Winterbreeze by
the way, and it’s all full of death and ice metaphors,” Radegast said. “If I’ve
got the timeline right, Lambrac is dumping Agatha about 40 or 50 years before
he goes crazy and burns his wife Gwynnth in the library. He’s got a thing for
winter, obviously, and…” She stopped, wide-eyed, and looked at Varien.
“What?” Varien asked.
Radegast was shivering.
“Varien, I think Lambrac caused the Shade
of Lorelei.”