laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

William sat in the afternoon sun and gazed across the courtyard as water splashed within the large fountain and wondered which avenue to take now as he waited for Orem’s return. Was the dark elf his demon, or this man’s daughter the one? Both could be female as he recalled his champion confirming it was a ‘she’ as well as Sir Frederick eluding to the same. He leaned forward in thought, chin resting within his right forefinger and thumb and soon heard a familiar voice emerge from the main gate to the cathedral from the street. He straightened as Sir Orem rode into the courtyard, his horse’s hooves clopping on the flagstone as he reined around towards the awaiting paladin.

“They left this morning, milord,” he informed as he dismounted and walked closer. “Those two boys and four women with them. The innkeeper didn’t know which way they went when they left, so no telling where they are now.”

William nodded quietly, still pondering his dilemma. “It seems we’ve hit a crossroads, friend,” he motioned to the end of the bench beside him and Orem claimed the spot and allowed his horse to linger nearby. “So far, we’ve got a group that left Laksay after burying the dead. Presumably. They arrive here in Bakony chased by some dark elf which mentally attacks one of them, then apparently leaves. Was it pursuing them further or did it just vanish, thinking it’s job was complete?” He glanced back to the cathedral, then to his friend. “We have an alchemist who determines his daughter’s life is no longer safe in public and closes her up in a storeroom in some kind of illusory world that he created. Either someone else kidnapped her and sealed the door from being opened, or she died in there and the room was found by someone after the attack. Perhaps those that buried the clerics and templar buried the child as well. Either way, we have a elven demon loose in the duchy and the only people who know any further details are now gone.” He smiled and glanced to his hands for a long moment. “I do, however have a lead for the mother’s family in Carbost. But, I’m not sure if that’s relevent now.”

“Studying the mother and her family might shed light on the girl and remove her from suspicion,” Orem suggested. “Or prove it, either way.”

William agreed, “Then I guess we do have a direction then”.

“So, you think that maybe this hedh....herh..whatever the hell that thing’s name is could be the demon we’re after?”

A chuckle lightened the paladin’s mood as he glanced to the gruff veteran. “Possible. He or she could’ve been responsible for the destruction of the compound, then somehow become linked to this group of humans who may have seen something that damned the guilty party,” he shrugged. “I guess I need to find out more about these elven demons then.” Standing, he moved towards the front doors, bordered by ornately carved stonework and then turned to the templar as Orem followed him. “Hodhedhel.”

“Yeah, that.”

That evening, they joined all the other members of their church at dinner. The large room full of relaxing paladin, templar, men-at-arms as well as faithful nobility and their families enjoying the warm atmosphere. Squires and resident orphans served the food and drink as candles lit each table at various points and found William and Orem sitting across from Sir Samuel of Eaglesham.

“So, how do you know so much of the elven demons and such,” William inquired amidst the cacophony of voices and light music.

“We all have our areas of expertise. Mine has been the south western part of the realm as well as those that haunt it. I found the halfling community of Chesham some years back and have enjoyed their knowledge of not only goblins, orcs and ogres, but also the rare visit of a dark elf. Rumors mostly but, I was lucky enough recently to have learned of a merchant caravan owned by the Tavayen family that frequently braved the road south along the Oka Straits to Lamar,” he took a sip of his wine as many others around them became enthralled by the tale. “Not sure how this family endeared themselves to the Beastmen but, they mentioned being attacked by shadows wielding two blades. Goblins of those hills apparently revere these things as gods and ran during a fight, just before several of the caravan’s security force were dismembered in unspeakable ways.”

William listened intently, his mind playing out the scenes in vivid detail. “So, what would make one of these hodhedhel join and lead orcs to attack a compound dedicated to Arhus, way north of their own homeland, then come here in pursuit of one woman?”

Samuel shrugged. “Maybe she found a way to dishonor this dark elf. Killed one of their brothers. I don’t really know. It’s rare, I’ll tell you that much. I guess the only way to find out is to ask her.”

Smiling, the paladin straightened. “I wish I knew where she and her companions went.”

“The only reason a hodhedhel would pursue someone that hotly would be because of a blood oath.”

“How did you learn so much about them,” another knight to William’s right asked.

“I read books found in the cathedral of Davos. They referenced the First Dark Age when humans fought alongside all the other races against the elves. It talked a little about dark elven traditions and such.” He glanced back to William. “It’s even rumored that the Book of Arhus was actually penned by a dark elven scribe.” A theory that met with a heated debate immediately afterwards.

* * *

Through rain and several days of clear skies, the pair rode west and back through Inellan, passed the garrison on the Dovey and over the bridge. Beyond the road which led to the ruins, they continued and passed several merchant caravans heading back towards the kingdom and most reported a clear road to Carbost. After another two days in the saddle beyond Laksay, they approached the large walls of the small outpost of Borge’. Statues of armored dwarves flanked either side of the gate to the old garrison, gifted to the humans by the King of the Black Anvil Clan shortly after he signed the treaty with King George III of Davos.
Once inside, he heard the familiar sounds of a small town again. As they neared the large keep, turned inn on their right, the smithy to the left resounded with the pounding of hammer on steel as they dismounted and William glanced into the dark interior. Fire from the forge reflected from the stout, bearded men within as they worked their magic as only dwarves could. They had decided to remain in the garrison instead of relinquish the prize to humans and had lived among the other residents for over twenty years now.

“I’ll take care of the horses,” Orem stated as William turned back towards him and nodded.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll see to our rooms, if they have any left.”

“As long as I don’t have to be kept awake by their revelry all night,” he motioned with his head to the dwarven smiths. “I don’t care if I have to sleep in the loft here.”

William chuckled and proceeded up the stairs and into the large main room. Centered among the rows of tables sat the large cookfire as dwarven women - presumably - tended to the large boar which hung on a spit, now darkened and smelled quite good. He walked up to one of the attendants who wiped their hands off on their apron - all bearded, it was hard to tell the male from the female - and turned to him as he removed his helmet, then wiped back the coif.

“What can I do for ‘ya,” the dwarf greeted whose thickly muscled body stood nearly to his chest.

“I was curious if you had any rooms available and also a question about any previous guests.”

“Yes, three rooms upstairs are open. Who were the guests?”

“One of them was a large man who bore a tattoo of this symbol,” he pointed to the heraldry on his surcoat, “on his forehead.”

“Yes, about two days ago, I believe. Headed west, they were.”

He nodded, happy both groups were at least headed in the same direction. “Two rooms then, thanks.”

That evening, they enjoyed the hospitality of their hosts which became head and shoulders above what any human group could accomplish. Music had most dancing in the aisleways and some on tables while the ale flowed. William sat with Orem at the table nearest the door and enjoyed the revelry from a distance, knowing his tolerance for alcohol would’ve been laughable with this group. He didn’t wish to embarrass himself that badly.

“You ever going to relax, milord,” Orem asked as he leaned over, nearly yelling over the party atmosphere.

“We have a dark elf lurking about as well as other dangers. I’ll feel safer back home.”

“How drunk do you think these people actually become?”

William’s grin faded as he glanced back to the crowd. “You have a point.”

“There’s probably no place safer than our own compounds, in the world.” He nodded as the drums, flute, bagpipes and fiddle became overwhelming and he soon rose and headed out into the peace of the night as Orem followed him, then closed the door. At least muffled, the quiet was a welcome change.
Without helmet or robe, he remained suited and geared as he walked through the quiet main street towards the western gate, braziers lit both towers as sentries walked a lonely tour along the parapets.

“Only two days behind them,” he finally revealed.

“Really,” Orem replied, surprised. “That’s great news. Finally be able to get closer to this demon and hopefully, it won’t take long. My warhammer needs some action.”

William grinned, “Not all of our foes require mayhem to be vanquished.”

“This one does.” He was right about that as the air suddenly became still and caused William and Orem to stop. Suddenly, the night seemed a little too muted and his fears were realized as arrows pierced the ground and rooftops of the nearby buildings. The horn of battle sounded from the western gate and both men sprinted towards it. As they approached the stair leading up to the wall’s parapet, the thunder of warcries echoed from beyond the stone, curtain wall. Orcs. Volley upon volley of arrows sang through the air as dwarves in the gatehouse returned fire with missiles of their own and William rose to the stone walkway and peered through the merlons just in time to see a darkly armored orc rise up in front of him. Immediately, he cut across the chest of the beast as his companion’s warhammer claimed another. In the moment of respite, William concentrated. As his spells gained he and those now gathered to either side of him protection from the missiles speeding from the darkness below, they fought brav ely in the face of unknown odds.

“Keep them off the walls, men,” he yelled as his sword jabbed into another orc and knocked him back into the shadow as those around him fought for their lives as the human inhabitants that lived in the homes below joined them. Most without more than leather armor and bows.
As the night wore on, he found himself not only trying to protect the archers but, also bind wounds when he could. Women fought fires around their homes as a few thatch rooves caught and threatened the buildings around them also. Into the wee hours of the morning, they shifted their defenses to meet the next wave as the enemy seemed to have no limit to their numbers. Occasional explosions from dwarven magic not only claimed orcs but also frightened the defenders who may not have seen such displays before. Lightning coursed through ranks of armored warriors whose smoked armor gave the angry beasts an even more sinister appearance.
As dawn approached, he peered through a merlon to repel another attack to find no one there. Just as suddenly as they had come, the enemy melted into the distant forest. He sighed and finally scanned the town to see the lives and livlihoods lost. Bodies strewn along the parapets and down on the ground below would take days to bury.

“Orem,” he looked to his companion as the templar turned to him, bloodied and bruised. “Are you well?”

Nodding, the soldier grinned. “I feel better now.”

“The cowards didn’t wish to finish their task,” an armored dwarf spat as he stepped out from the nearby tower. “Not that they could have anyway.”

“Have they done this often,” William inquired.

“No,” the platemailed warrior removed his helmet, nearby fires from smoldering homes as well as torches reflecting eerily from him as he moved. “This was the first time in a long time. Just glad they didn’t make us come to them, Salekhard is a long march from here.”

“We should tend to the wounded and see to the dead,” the paladin suggested. “We don’t need to add disease to the sorrows already felt.”

William helped organize the clean up for the next three days while healing the wounded beside the dwarven cleric who also lived here. He and Angvar became good friends during that time and both shared their religious views also, not always agreeing on all points, but respected one another’s opinions.

The fourth morning, William moved to the smithy to reclaim his armor which needed repairs after the night-long battle. He knocked on the wooden door frame and noticed one of the smiths emerge from the shadow of their storeroom.

“Aye,” the bass greeting echoed as the long bearded dwarf glanced to him.

“I’ve come to see if my armor is ready, we’re departing this morning.” He noticed the impatient shop owner move to a nearby barrel and dig out familiar looking peices then toss them to him.

“I thought this crap should’ve been scrapped but, if you want it there it is.” He watched the dwarf move towards his anvil, then glance to him. “Anything else?”

“What do I owe you for the repairs?”

“Don’t ever insult me again,” he motioned to a younger dwarf with his broad hammer. “My son was practising on that, so no need for payment. Unless of course, you want some real armor instead.”

William found himself laughing. “In time, thank you, sir. At least I know where to come now.” The smith grunted, then went to work as the paladin donned his armor and turned to notice Orem lead their horses over to him. “Morning.”

“Good morning, sir. I see they did a good job on your armor. No surprise there,” he glanced into the busy shop.

“His son was practising,” William grinned and finished strapping on the shin guards, then rose and neared Rusty. “Makes me feel good to know how skilled our own artisans are when compared to masters of the art.”

“I’d hate to see Stewart introduced to that group in there,” Orem’s thumb jammed towards the shop as they mounted and spurred their horses towards the western gate.

“You have no heart.”

“He would learn a lot, that’s for sure.”

“Indeed. If they didn’t kill him first.” William noted the relief from leaving Borge’ finally but, also a bit of regret. “I’m not sure it was time to leave them, especially with so much more rebuilding to do.”

“My lord. We’ve been called upon by our patron deity to accomplish a mission. They can rebuild their homes and lives without our interference. I’d wager they’ll be back to normal in no time.”

He nodded and kept his eyes to the road as the well traveled highway rose and wound it’s way upwards. Two or three days longer until they reached Carbost and hopefully discovered more to help them on their quest. A change of scenery would be welcome, he determined.

“Something else vexes you, milord,” the templar interrupted.

“I’m also wondering why those orcs attacked that garrison. They should’ve known the dwarves would be able to defend it.”

“You’re thinking this demon knows we’re following it and sent them to stop us?”

“Perhaps.” The thought had crossed his mind. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“True.”

That night, they kept their guard up for another attack now that the quarry was in the open but, none came. Perhaps the orc army was too demoralized for even a small raid such as this. If true, it was a great testament to dwarven resolve and magic.
By the evening of the following day, they arrived in the large city of Carbost and rode through the heavily guarded gatehouse as a sergeant barked out orders to shut and bar the gate once the pair of knights from the Order of the Golden Scepter arrived. William wondered if the town had other problems as he turned his horse around.

“Sergeant, has there been any incursions by orcs here recently?”

“No, milord,” the soldier called down through the arrowslit on the second floor. “Have you seen any on the road here?”

“An army attacked Borge’ while we were there, not five days ago.”

“I’ll pass that on to the castellan, thank you, sir.”

William nodded, then turned Rusty back around and resumed the ride towards the center of town. As the narrow street gave way to a large marketplace, he noted the large church of Arhus to his right and one dedicated to the deity of youth and good fortune across the street and beyond that. Yaeby had become a welcome patron to farmers as well as expectant mothers over the generations. Either one may hold the answers to his questions he surmised as they rode to the front doors of their own church.
He dismounted and noticed the ache in his legs and quickly crouched to stretch a bit, then rose as two squires approached from the far side of the building. Orem glanced at him and grinned.

“Don’t say it,” William warned as he handed the reins off and walked stiffly into the church.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Don’t forget, I represent the deity of justice, sir,” he playfully joked as the templar opened the door and he walked inside.

“And so do I.” Hazel green eyes noted the resident priest kneeling in prayer at the front of the church and they both moved to join him. Briefly thanking Arhus for a safe journey thus far, he rose and noticed the cleric lingering near the dais, eyes up to the multitude of carvings of Arhus and his life played out in mosaic across the front of the choiry.

“Is something amiss,” William asked and gained the priest’s attention.

“I’m sorry. Just had an interesting day, that’s all.” Kind, brown eyes turned to them squarely. “Do you require rooms, sir?”

“And a hot bath, if possible,” William added. “I was also curious, do you happen to know of a woman named Bianka that died about seventeen years ago giving birth to a daughter?”

Brow furrowed in thought for a long moment. “No, even as an acolyte, I don’t recall that name. I’ve only been a priest here now for about eight years. The one to ask, to be honest is Herblon, the priest of Yaeby next door. He knows just about everyone in this town.”

“I’ll do that, thank you.”

“No problem. I’ll see to your bath as well as some dinner. There should be enough left in the kitchen if you wish,” he motioned towards the right and behind the choiry and William led Orem that way. Having only eaten sparingly during their journey, except when in a town, he was sure he had lost some weight.