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It could have been worse, Exferlin thought as he shifted in his saddle for what seemed to be thousandth time. Both he and the Thief could have been bound and gagged and on their way to King Leriman's court, where they both would be executed posthaste. This did not change the fact that Exferlin had been stuck riding double with the short, puzzling little man who'd shown up in the Flotsam tavern just a few hours earlier. He squirmed in the saddle behind Exferlin far too often, causing Exferlin to need to adjust his own seat. The fellow had also been silent for their entire journey, only speaking at the start to instruct them to not stop until he was certain they weren't pursued.
Since then, several hours had passed and they had turned northward at the little man's gestured insistence.
Rather annoying, really.
He'd had many moonlit flights from many cities over the years, always one step ahead of the Elf King's minions, but he'd always been alone on those excursions and there had been no one to stop him from fleeing in any direction he chose. Now, he was saddled with two companions, one of which was obviously a powerful wizard and the other only answered to a less than favorable occupational title.
Exferlin wasn't sure he even liked the thief but, he to admit, the man could ride like the wind. The moon was full in the sky, with dawn still hours away, when the strange little fellow cried a halt to their forced march. They set up camp off the road, concealed from the view of any passerby's by a ring of stones that gave Exferlin a powerful sense of dej'a vu.
The little fellow seemed rather jumpy himself, darting from one end of the stone ring to the other as Thief and Exferlin went about making camp. Soon a low fire burned and Thief produced a haunch of rabbit that he roasted slowly, handing offf chunks of meat as they finished cooking. As they finished supper, Exferlin looked to the little fellow and demanded, “Now that we are at least nominally safe from those mercenaries, I think it's high time you let us in on who you are and what you meant by a “quest” back there in Flotsom.”
The weary looking man sighed and stood, straightening his pointed hat as he did. With an air of one who is used to performing for an audience, he took a deep breath and began to speak, loudly, “I am the Dungeon Master, Oh Mighty Exferlin Starside, heir to the throne of Leiman, son of Algarannarrrggh!!!!!” The little man choked as Exferlin grabbed his throat and squeezed.
“I told you to never say those names to me again. Cut the theatrical bullshit and tell me who you are and what you want. Now.” Exferlin glared at him with golden eyes that were narrowed to pinpoints. He couldn't help noticing that the thief sat propped against one of the stones, an apple in one hand and a dagger in the other, watching the festivities with a half-smile.
The little man coughed as Exferlin released him. “Young man, there is no need to be rude!” the fellow exclaimed, rubbing his throat and speaking in a gravelly voice that Exferlin was certain was feigned. Sighing once again, the little man sat back down on the ground hard. Hanging his head almost comically, he said, “Fine. My name is Padrun The Magnificent, member of the Loyal Order of Magic, Member of the Wizards Court, 9th Class. The whole Dungeon Master thing....well...they tell us to be dramatic. I thought it was a nice touch.”
Seeing Exferlin's frowning face, he hurriedly continued, “I was charged to deliver you to a mighty quest, one that would forever change you, your fate, the world, blah, blah, blah. The usual nonsense.” Looking at Exferlin, the little man's face was a mask of anxiety and resignation. “Not that that will matter now. Confounded time spells! Never take to where you really need to be. Guess I should count myself lucky I'm not back in the Age of Chaos, being torn in two during the Gods Wars or on of those blasted Mi-Go ships in the 41st century.”
Reaching into his robes, he once more brought forth the scroll he'd been waving around in the tavern. “Here. It's yours. Although, since you weren't supposed to get that for another two years or more.....” He looked sideways at Exferlin and said hopefully, “I don't suppose you've been to Myth Arnor yet have you?”
“Myth Arnor?” Exferlin cried in alarm. “Why the hell would I go to the largest elven city in the world?"
Padrun slumped his shoulders in defeat and and looked upward with a pleading gesture. “Ye Gods, I am in deep shit.” He looked at Exferlin again and said with a voice full of regret, “It was my job to deliver that to you, but at a later date. The spell I used to take me to you must have sent me to the wrong time. There is much you need before you can set your feet on the path that this message holds for you."
Exferlin looked at the man with awe and more than a little fear. Traveling through time was dangerous and the risk of altering the time line was great, unless precautions were taken. Not to mention that only the most powerful of the elven archmages had access to the tomes containing the spells to shift one's time frame. While it did not surprise him to know that human mages had such power, he was taken aback at the thought of a bumbling idiot such as this one with the power to alter time.
With a worried glance at Padrun, Exferlin opened the scroll and read what was there.
'My Son,
It is time you knew the truth. I was not killed by the King but imprisoned, to keep Algaranna by his side and away from you. The one who brought you this, the elf Ilsitar, is one of only a few who know of my existence. It has taken many years, but I have finally convinced him to carry this to you, no matter where you might be. I love you my son and I am sorry for how you have been treated. I would have made you a place in my world, had there been a chance, but Leriman's soldiers acted too quickly for your mother and I to escape.
Ilsitar has told me that you are a wizard, or were when you fled the palace. I am hopeful that you are powerful enough to break the enchantments Leriman's mages placed upon my prison. All I know is that I am far from Myth Drannor and held here by something called Mordainken's Hand. Ilsitar overheard the mages mention a special prisoner and this spell and assumed it meant me. Ilsitar has told me that you may need something of mine to assist you finding me. I have given him a lock of my hair. Please, my son, release me from this torment. I beg of you. If you cannot, know that I think of you and your mother every day and wish for nothing but your happiness.
Your father,
Sir Artos Maximillian Arelius, Knight of the Dragon'
Exferlin was shocked. His father, alive? How was this possible. Glancing back at the parchment, he once again glared at the little old man and snarled, “If this is a lie, I will personally feed you to a hungry pack of wolves. Explain. What is Mordainken's Hand? Who is this Ilsitar?”
“Mordainken's Hand is a power binding spell which places an area into a slightly different phase of existence from our own. Within that area, time stands still, nothing ages and nothing changes. It is impossible to cross the boundary of such without mighty magic. Leriman's mages could have succeeded with such, if they worked together. Ilsitar...he's someone you will have to find. In time.”
“Ahem,” Thief said quietly. Both of them turned to him as he said, “It seems to me that the two of you have much to discuss, none of which concerns me now that we are safely away from that wretched town. I'll take my leave of you fine gentlemen in the morning, if you don't mind.”
Padrun shook his head sadly and replied, “I am sorry noble Thief, but your destiny is intertwined with your companion's.” He frowned and said, “Or it WAS. I don't know how things are to be now that I've made such a bungle of things.”
“Sir, with the greatest of respect, my destiny is my own, and my fate none but what I make. It sounds to me as if there is some sort of half-baked rescue operation about to take place and under the nose of the Elf King himself.” Shaking his head, the thief continued, “While I am no stranger to the odd honorable act, it certainly isn't in my nature to go haring off, chasing long lost fathers and angering elven kings anymore than I already have!”
“There's gold in it for you, “ Padrun stated flatly.
“Now that, my fine sir, is music to my ears. Gold can ease any concern...provided there is enough of it.” Thief's eyes narrowed and he asked, “Just how much gold is in it for me?”
“Your weight.” Padrun said.
“When do we go rescue dear old Dad?” Came the Thief's reply.
Exferlin's mind whirled. Time traveling wizards and the thief...his father and the possibility of seeing him...it was almost too much. For most of his life he'd hated his father, cursed him as a coward who had run from his mother when the pregnancy became known, hung as a man who would desert the woman he claimed to have loved. At least that had been the story told to him by his foster family. Now, with little more than a piece of paper and an odd fellow who seemed more street illusionist than mighty wizard, he found himself feeling love for a man he'd never met well up inside him. Skepticism was cast aside, at least for the moment, in favor of a kind of hope that he'd never allowed himself before. 'His mother and father had not abandoned him! They had wanted to be with him, to be a family!' he thought wildly. Trying to reign in his emotions, he turned from the Thief back to the old man. “Why should I believe you?” he asked.
“You know it in your heart that I speak the truth, Exferlin, “the old man replied sadly. “You have much to do before you can even begin to consider attempting to rescue your father.” Turning to the thief, he added, “You need to know that, by the end of this, you will not be the same person. The name you cast forth so many years ago will return to haunt you, sooner than you think. Not all of your ghosts remain buried, Thief.”
“You know nothing of me or my past, oh mighty wizard. Have a care how you speak,” the thief said, a tiny note of anger in his voice.
“I know much, Thief. Rest assured, the greater part of the world thinks the man you once were dead. More's the pity, “ Padrun said, sadness in his voice.
It was then that a noise from the darkness came, nothing more than the snap of a twig. Silence fell as the three companions looked at one another, knowing looks on their faces. The Thief suddenly spun to his right, daggers sprouting from his hands like petals on a rose. They were sent flying into the hearts of three short, squat creatures carrying rusty looking short swords, that had emerged into the firelight from the road side of the camp. They were only about 3 feet tall and wore a motley collection of armor over slimy green skin. Their mouths were wide, seeming to cleave their heads in two and filled with rows of razor sharp fangs.
Exferlin spun in the opposite direction and had time enough to think goblins before 3 more of the foul creatures were upon him. His sword flashed and a goblin's head flew from it's shoulders, spraying black blood that stank like a sewer across the camp. It's companions hesitated for a moment at Exferlins ferocity and he descended upon them, spinning in graceful arcs that sent the goblins flying in ragged pieces.
Padrun, however, stood motionless between the two men. Snatching a bag from his waist belt, he cried unintelligible words and flung a small ball high into the air above them. Suddenly, the sky was filled with a massive fireball, vaporizing the tree branches that hung high above the camp. In the dazzling light, Exferlin could make out 5 more of the nasty little bastards fleeing into the woods. The fire was searing, like having the sun come down and hover just above you and Exferlin wondered for a moment if the little fellow could control what he'd let loose. If not, they'd all soon find out just how hot the fires of Hades really were. After a moment though, the flames shrank and winked out, leaving them to adjust to the darkness for a moment.
When his sight had cleared, Exferlin saw the bodies of 6 of the creatures lay strewn about their camp, the foul blood staining the rocks around the camp and the ground. He could also see now, that 10 feet or so above the camp, the trees had been seared off.. All that remained of the massive oak trees surrounding the stone ring were blackened, smoking stumps. The remainder of the trees had been reduced to ash that now floated on the air like snowflakes.
“Next time, don't try to kill us along with the enemy,” Exferlin snarled at Padrun. “Bad enough we've got goblins hanging around, waiting for us to fall asleep. Do we need to worry about you incinerating us in our sleep or during the next battle as well?” Exferlin laced his words with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
“Yes, ahem...well...it was effective...” Padrun stammered, his cheeks glowing red with embarrassment.
“No matter. Let's clean this mess up. I'm tired and I want to know more about this path to rescue my father and what I need to do."
“There are very specific tasks that must be accomplished and certain objects to be acquired, before you can even begin to hope to break the curse that binds your father. You were supposed to have more time with your companion here, become a more solid working team before you got this. I am unsure if you are truly ready for what this means for you, Exferlin.” The old man had a look of misery, as if he pitied Exferlin for the burden he now shouldered.
Exferlin sighed. It figured. Nothing was ever easy. As he slung goblin bodies into the woods, he questioned the old man. “Ok, it won't be easy. How about you let me decide about that. What do we need?”
Smiling, Padrun slung a severed head as far as he could. It barely made it out of the ring of stones and Exferlin shook his head in exasperation as the old man scuttled to get rid of the thing properly, embarrassment on his face. “First, you will need to travel to Myth Arnor. There you need to seek out the Crypt of the Argus. There you will find Mordainken's spellbook. The counter-spells you will need can only be found in it. The you will need to travel to the Mines of Arotosh. There, you will find an ancient artifact known as the Hand of Vecna. With it, you can construct the key needed to open the prison.” Staring gravely at Exferlin, Padrun went on. “These are but two of the steps, and only the first two, on a long and dangerous journey. There is much more but I cannot reveal all. I can only put you on the path to your destiny. The spells needed to weaken the prison and the construction of the key will require things that are themselves hard to get.” Padrun looked around and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Not to mention, if the union gets wind of this, me helping you, it'll be my head on a chopping block. I can only do so much here. You've gotten the letter, you know the first two tasks. That's enough to be going on with. Any more and I won't be able to get home and sort out the mess this sure to cause.”
“Now wait a minute...” Exferlin began. He was cut off by Thief's comment.
“It seems to me that the Magnificent Padrun has bigger fish to fry. You and I need to decide on watches for those blasted goblins and a plan of action on how to find this Argus tomb when we get to Myth Arnor.” Looking around, he swept his hand out gesturing, “Not to mention cleaning up this gods forsaken mess.”
“Oh, no worries there. I was just about to take care of that, “ Padrun exclaimed, whipping out another small bag and extracting a purplish powder. Before either Exferlin or the Thief could stop him, he was already sprinkling the powder on the ground, muttering in the strange language of magic.
The wind began to pick up instantly and was soon blowing with such force that Exferlin half feared he would be swept away. Dust and dirt mingled with the black sludge that the goblins called blood, spun through the air. Suddenly the air calmed and Exferlin realized they stood in the eye of a cyclone, the debris now whirling about them creating a wall through which none of them could see. He cocked his head and looked at the old man, the scorn on his face evident.
With an embarrassed cough, Padrun waved his arms and the cyclone lifted straight up, taking the remnants of the goblin bodies and at least a few inches of the soil with it. The fire was out, the burning logs swept up in to the cyclone. Fortunately, their bags were spared and as the Thief hurriedly began making a fire, Exferlin stared at the wizard, unable to say anything. 'How has this idiot managed to not get himself killed?' He thought.
“Ahem. Well, I really should be getting back now.” He backed slowly away from Exferlin as he began fumbling for his waist pouches and the spell components there. Then, with a shout and an exaggerated wave, the little old man vanished, leaving Exferlin clutching at empty air, cursing.
Exferlin found himself alone, hours later, the moon receding below the horizon and the stars shone like shimmering diamonds in the clear night sky. The dawn would be breaking soon and with it came the decisions that had been avoided after the little man's dramatic exit. The occasional snore from the thief was the only sound to break the silence and Exferlin found himself thinking about the road ahead. Myth Arnor and King Leriman's soldiers, with the prize being the spell book of one of the most powerful wizards to ever live, or the Mines of Arotosh and god knew what horrors guarding the artifact of Vecna? Some choice. Either way, it was one he had to make. Which direction would it be?
To have Exferlin and Thief journey to Myth Arnor and seek out Mordainken's Spellbook, comment "To Myth Arnor"
To have Exferlin and Thief travel to The Mines of Artosh and seek the Hand of Vecna, comment "To Artosh"
To have Exferlin pack his shit and ride off before Thief can awaken, comment " I'm going home"
Thank you for reading and playing along. I hope you enjoy these tales. The next installment will be posted on March 9, 2018, once all comments are in and this post pays out. Peace