Chapter 5 (continued)

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                  The Tale of the Twins Siti

"As I said, Urki and I were born but moments apart. I was the elder, Urki, slightly the larger. Our parents were fairly well-off. Nothing particularly special, except that they were our parents which made them very special to us. My father was a merchant. He was roguish in an honest sort of way and had an incredibly inquisitive nature. That translated into his business by pushing him to become an importer. He sold an amazing assortment of exotic goods from faraway lands, anything that caught his interest. At different times his stock encompassed all sorts of different goods, including scrolls and books as well as spices, objets d'art, and fine imported arms and armor.

My mother was a warm, loving woman who cared for us and ran our father's home. We were wealthy enough that she had two servants to assist her in her tasks, a housekeeper and a tutor who was responsible for educating Urki and me. The housekeeper was a gregarious old soul who bustled about chattering away all the time and who treated the two of us as if we were her own favorite grandchildren, catering to our every whim and spoiling us with bits of fruit and sweetmeats between meals when our parents weren't looking.

Although he was married to the housekeeper, our tutor was a different sort. Gruff and quiet, he was a self-educated ex-guard officer from the merchant marine. Unlike his wife, he never spoiled either Urki or me. Instead, he pushed us to the limit of our abilities in every way that he could. He taught us to read, to cipher and even to dance. He taught us the ways of the sea and how to sail small craft. He taught us how to use weapons and when to use them. He taught us folklore and herb lore. The gods only know how he came by some of the knowledge that he possessed, but he knew more about a wider assortment of things than any other single person I've ever come across.

Unfortunately, Urki and I were not always ideal students for him, however. We were after all children and rather mischievous ones at that. Whenever we tried to escape the lessons he had set for us though, he somehow always seemed knew what we were up to. That was especially true when we were very young. Whatever plot we hatched died at its birth. No sooner had we devised a plan for mischief and begun to implement it than he would appear, quash it and give us a quick paddling and set us once more to our schooling. As we grew older, we would occasionally get away with something. Whether that was because we were actually devising cleverer plans, or because our tutor allowed it as a sort of confidence-builder, was something we never knew.

We still don't. Our tutor, like the housekeeper, and like our beloved parents is, you see, dead.

We were all citizens of Meratz Khahok in Jillette. Ah, I see you've heard of it. Urki and I were only eight years old when the raiders came, but we still understood the gravity of the situation when we saw the harbor going up in flames. Our father had left early that morning for his business and still hadn't returned home when the onslaught took place as the sun went down. I don't know whether he was at the harborside warehouse or at the shop in the center of town. Neither my brother or I ever saw him again after he broke fast with us, and we never learned for certain whether he was slain defending the city with a sword in hand or whether he was burned alive in the fires which raged through the city that night. We don't even know with surety that he really did die. But since we have never met anyone else who survived the quayside conflagration or the assault on the city center, it seems very likely that he perished.

The only reason Urki and I didn't is because of the combined efforts of our mother and our tutor and a kind-hearted pirate. Yes, a kind-hearted pirate. I know that sounds far-fetched, but despite the barbarity and depravity of the raiders who burned Meratz Khahok, there was one among them who was unwilling to slaughter children.

Let me tell you more about what happened and you will see for yourself. You must know the general outlines of what happened in Meratz Khahok. Nearly everyone does. An enormous fleet of raiders assembled and sacked the city. They sacked it as no city has ever been sacked before or since. Looting and pillaging were the order of the day along with side dishes of slaughter and kidnap. The raiders sliced through what resistance there was like a knife through butter on a warm day.

They reached our home quickly because it was relatively near the waterfront. Our mother and Dalbrek, our tutor, fought to defend us. Surprisingly, they fought off the first wave even though they were badly outnumbered. Our mother's love and Dalbrek's training and skill with a cutlass stood him and us in good stead. But no efforts, however, heroic, could stem the tide of the pirates that day. Eventually sheer numbers overwhelmed them and us. Dalbrek fell to a crossbow bolt and my mother was taken and raped both before and after they slit her throat. It appeared that Urki and I were to be next in line to feel the swords and steel of the pirates.

Astoundingly, one of their number intervened. Younger, and perhaps a bit less hardened than the most of the rest, Suryn -- that was his name as we later learned -- couldn't stomach the rape and murder of a young boy and girl. He tried to talk his mates out of their intent by suggesting that better could be had elsewhere. They just laughed at him. One of them went so far as to say,"Boy, if you haven't the stomach for this end of the party, perhaps you like to put on a skirt and join the other?" The rest howled at the jape and one even stripped the skirt off of my mother's corpse and tossed it to Suryn.

He grew still and silent as the sea in the center of a hurricane for a moment -- but only for a moment. "So," he said, "you think to make both them and me your play toys, eh? You forget yourself. Well, perhaps we'll play a little game of my devising first. Instead of you doing for the children as you've done for their mother, we'll play a game I call pin the tail on the jackass. The rules are simple. Whoever thinks they've spotted the jackass will stick its tail with a pin."

All the other pirates looked at him as if he was crazy. "What the 'ell are you on about, mate? What jackass are you talking about? There are no farm animals here. Are you daft?"

"Let me demonstrate," Suryn replied. "You see there are many types of jackass in the world. Some have four legs and some have two," he said as edged closer to us and, not by chance, to the two who had insulted him as well.

"The object of this game is to make the jackass jump and bellow when you pin his tail," Suryn cried as he suddenly -- I see you've guessed it -- jabbed one of our tormenters in the buttocks with his cutlass. The blackguard who fell afoul of our benefactor's blade, squalled an oath and leapt as if struck by lighting as Suryn's point sank at least three inches deep into the meat of his arse.

The others stared dumbfounded at first at this, and then a repeat performance as Suryn did the same to the one who had tossed him our mother's torn and bloody skirt. The rest stood stupefied for a moment and then burst into loud, drunken laughter as the two who had felt Suryn's steel hobbled about moaning curses at their young, erstwhile comrade.

"Now that's the way to make a jackass move," guffawed one.

"Suryn, laddie, you are alright," called another.

"Let's go find some more lubbers to play this game with," suggested a third.

With that they dragged their wounded comrades off in search of more sport and more booty. Suryn stayed behind. He looked at us with a level stare and said, "Well, little ones, it looks as if I have two choices. I can leave you here to fend for yourselves. In that case, I can see two futures for you. One, you will either stay here or run off somewhere. In either case, you will almost certainly be caught by another band of my none-to-gentle comrades and killed. The second of the futures I can foresee for you should I leave you here on your own is for you to somehow escape their tender mercies and survive, in which case you will be orphans adrift in a pitiless world in the even more pitiless place that this city will become after we are through with it. Either future seems a shame after I risked my neck to save your hides.

My second option is to take you along with me as `pets.'" Seeing the look of trepidation on our faces, Suryn said to us, "I know, the thought doesn't exactly fill me with glee either. However, it seems to be a better choice than leaving you for the wolves of humanity to feed off of."

It didn't strike us at the time, for we were very young and very frightened, but in looking back Suryn was obviously far more well-spoken than one would expect your average pirate to be. As it turned out, even after we did recognize that he was an educated man, we never quite figured out why. Perhaps he was a noble's son who had fallen on hard times or in with bad company. Perhaps he had educated himself by reading on the long voyages between pirate raids. Or perhaps that facet of Suryn's is just this storyteller's conceit or a way of covering up some sort of brutality in the man that I don't want to remember because he saved our lives.

Whichever, it doesn't matter for the purposes of this story. Suffice it to say we were taken on board one of the pirate vessels by our savior who turned out to be its second mate. Indeed, as luck or fate would have it, he was soon to be its captain in all but name. After the raid on Meratz Khahok was finished, the first mate never returned. He must have been one of the relatively few pirate casualties in the sack. Another was the captain of the Black Swan, as the ship on which we found ourselves was called. Although he wasn't dead, he had taken a blow to the head which left him unconscious much of the time and lucid almost none of the rest.

Their wounds proved fortuitous for us, for no one on board questioned Suryn's acquisition of two new "pets." He was effectively the commander of the ship and, as on all pirate ships the captain's word was law. Not only did the pirates not question our presence, they soon came to view us as mascots and good luck charms for Suryn led the ship in a rapid series of successful raids that provided the crew with massive amounts of booty the likes of which they had never seen before. As a result, they, like Suryn, took us under their wing and began to teach us bits of the lore which each of them had picked up during their lives.

And a diverse set of lore it was. Of course, we learned more about obvious things like navigation and sailing than Dalbrek had taught us. We also learned to pick pockets, to dance jigs, and to play dice. We learned the right and wrong ways to tie knots, and were taught the best way to skin a monkey. We learned to cook, drink, to curse and sing and more. But most of all we learned more about how to fight.

We learned how to fight with our fists. We learned how to fight with our feet. We learned how to use swords of all kinds. We learned how to swing an axe and to shoot a bow. We learned dozens of styles of knife fighting. We learned two-swords style combat and shield use. We learned how to use spears and arbalests, mattocks and catapults, bolos and boomerangs. In short, we learned how to use just about every weapon you could possibly think of. Some we learned better than others. But we learned all of them well. In almost all, we eventually surpassed our teachers. It seems we have a natural talent for mayhem.

That talent lead us to where we are today. Eventually, we left Suryn and his band of cutthroats. We had little taste for raiding for we never could truly believe that piracy wasn't somehow wrong. Despite all the romantic tales of injustice by monarchs and judges with which many of the marauders plied us, our own first taste of piracy had convinced us that nothing justified it. It had taken our parents and our friend and teacher. It had robbed us of our childhoods and of our home. While not all those who embrace it as their trade are evil, piracy in and of itself is evil.

So Urki and I left the Black Swan and we never looked back. We initially took jobs as guards for merchant caravans and the like. Although a few traders were reluctant at first to hire two teenagers -- one of whom was a girl -- to protect them, we usually could convince them by letting them pick one of us to fight the best guard they had with the weapon of his choice in a test of arms. Although it may surprise you, neither of us ever lost such a contest. We never met our master with a weapon among the caravans, and found that few were even our equals with even a single weapon. After a year or two of making our way in the world in such a manner, we moved on to work as city guards. Later, we began to work for nobles as bodyguards.

Each new occupation taught us something new. While caravan guards we learned to ride and some more herbal lore. As city guards, we got to know more of the interior of the world than we had been able to ken while on the Black Swan. As bodyguards for the nobility, we learned court custom and etiquette. Still, especially for me, none of those jobs gave much satisfaction.

Urki has always been more easygoing and happy-go-lucky than have I. He gets along with just about anyone -- especially women. Wherever we went and whatever we did, he could make a place for himself with little trouble. I, on the other hand, though I am not always comfortable admitting it, have always been a bit more dour. I don't get close to people quickly or easily. I don't think that I have ever truly felt at home since we were taken from Meratz Khahok. That has always made me a bit restless. Eventually I have always wanted to move on and Urki always chose to come with me.

Over the last half dozen years or so of our lives, we have wandered Seremoreh doing whatever we pleased. We were good enough at swordplay that we made a fair amount of gold as guards and soldiers, so we have little need to hire out any more. We have adventured on our own far and wide and made any number of acquaintances over the years. Astall is but one of them. There are others all throughout the lands. Fortunately, whatever trouble we have gotten ourselves into so far, we have been able to get ourselves out of. I hope the faring against Iskander is no different. Gods willing it won't be, but then I've never thought particularly prudent to rely on the willingness of the gods."

Enki snorted and shook her head as she finished, "That's our story in a nutshell. I'm sure you'll hear more of its details during our travels since our destinies seem to be intertwined for the time being. We'll be spending many nights aboard ship it seems with nothing to do but spin yarns and Urki and I do have a tale or two that is worth telling."

Enki smiled at the single member of her audience. Wolf had a strange look on his face, something between sympathy and sorrow. He hadn't said a word during her narration and he still didn't seem to have one to utter now. Still his look communicated more to her than most people did in a thousand words.

Enki felt more than a little disconcerted. It wasn't the usual sort of reaction to her story, but then she didn't usually tell many the tale on first meeting. "Well," she said, "I think I hear the sounds of the others beginning to rise. I think I'll go check on Urki and see how he is doing."

With that she beat a hasty retreat and disappeared around the corner which led to the stairwell. Wolf steepled his hands together as his physiognomy took on a speculative cast. "It seems this trip may prove even more interesting than it already promises to be. Not only is it apt to be deadly dangerous, but the company is proving to be quite a collection of truly fascinating people," he murmured.

The ranger shook his head with a sigh. "I just hope we all survive," he added to himself. "But that, I suppose, is a bit much to ask."

Chapter 5

Chapter V

Jerrod finished his meal without speaking. Both twins noticed his contemplative mien. Urki shrugged and made conversation with his sister and Sadie who blushed furiously whenever she came within range of the young warrior.

While Enki also noticed the young mage's thoughtful state, she had a somewhat different reaction than did her brother. Instead of dismissing Jerrod and his somber attitude to turn to other, perhaps more stimulating, pursuits, Enki nodded slightly to herself with silent approval. Jerrod had been given much to consider and it was good to see that his response fitted the gravity of the situation. Now wasn't the time to intrude on the young mage and his thoughts, so she left Jerrod to those thoughts and conversed with her brother. Enki tried to keep Urki from making Fran's daughter any more mortified than she already was, but, as usual, had little success in diverting her brother from his sport.

As her companions finished their meals and filed off to bed either singly or in pairs, Enki took stock of her situation. She was used to traveling and adventuring with her brother and her brother alone. Even when they had served in armies or in a noble's private guards, they had worked only with each other. They had grown up together and understood each others needs and abilities in just about any situation without needing to even speak to one another. Now she would be traveling with six others and she and Urki must blend with them as a unit. Fortunately, most of them seemed more than competent -- if a bit “unique.”. Her lips quirked as she caught herself fretting about the individualism of others considering the irony that she and Urki had rarely been willing to suborn their own discretion to that of a larger unit. Even when they had served in a larger company, they’d been detached to serve as rangers and scouted on their own.

Jerrod worried her a bit though. He was young and, while perhaps talented, he was callow and headstrong. His rash behavior with she and Urki when they had first met him suggested that his naivete about the ways of the world and the dangers which it held was something which might get them all in trouble. And yet..... there was something about him. Not only did Astall vouch for his apprentice and believe he was indispensable to their quest to neutralize Iskandar once more, but when he had accepted the wand a strange charisma and power had seemed to leap forth from him. It was if he had momentarily assumed what had almost appeared to be a natural leadership role. And even more amazingly, he had assumed it over a collection of individuals who were as unique and skilled as any she had ever seen or heard of outside of legends. It did not fit with the spoiled brat that he appeared to be the rest of the time.

There must be more to the lad than there had at first seemed. There had better be. If there was not, they would all most certainly end up dead. Not only was the world in the grips of this frigid blast of unseasonable and unreasonable cold, but the trollkin were becoming a serious threat in lands which had not seen them in millennia and other even darker powers were rumored to be stirring. They would need all of the guile and all of the resources which they could muster in order to accomplish their task -- if it could be accomplished at all. How in the world were they supposed collect six more items of power which had been lost for millennia, especially when they had but a single vague clue as to the whereabouts of only one of them? They couldn't afford many mistakes. Jerrod would need to grow up in a hurry.

"Well," she thought to herself, "he does seem to be a bit more thoughtful now. Perhaps I should look on the bright side. Maybe he will mature as quickly as we need him to. And what if he didn't? They would die and the world would be crushed under the dominion of an evil demigod who would turn it into an icebox in which trollkin and the like fed on the bodies and souls of humanity. At least they wouldn't be around to see it."

Enki sighed and looked at her brother who was still trifling good-naturedly with Sadie. Everyone else had left while she had been lost in her reverie. Even Jerrod had wandered off to his room for the night. "I wonder if he said goodnight to anyone, " she murmured to herself.

"Urki, if you can leave off teasing the girl, we should probably imitate the others and head to bed," Enki said to her brother.

"In a minute, sis, I just have one more thing I have to do before i go to bed," her brother replied. She smiled as her brother suddenly turned and swept Sadie from her feet into his lap and gave her a enormous smooch on the lips and then sent her on her way with a pinch and a pat to the behind.

"Alright I'm ready," her brother laughed. "But you're always such a spoilsport. You should try having a little fun yourself sometime, maybe with young Jerrod, eh."

Enki shook her head in amusement at her brother's transparent attempt to get her out of their room for the night. "Jerrod, indeed, she laughed to herself as she and her brother headed upstairs to their beds. "A more unlikely pairing I can't envision, unless it is perhaps Jerrod and that Derazha. And she would undoubtedly swallow him whole."

The night passed untroubled. When the false dawn of morn came, Enki slipped out of bed and slid quietly in to her leathers. Leaving her dreaming brother asleep with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, she glided down the stairs to the common room. To her surprise, she wasn't the first one besides the innkeeper and his staff to arrive. The toy giant shape of the ranger was outlined by the glow of the early morning fire in the hearth.

"Greetings, girl," Wolf rumbled. "So I am not the only one up with crows, eh? Where's that lout of a brother of yours?"

Enki took no offence at the apparent roughness of the forester's words. In fact, the opposite was true, if anything they relaxed some of the fears which had troubled her the night before. Their bite was offset by the grin on his face and the twinkle in his eyes. He seemed to be one of those people who knew just what to say to put people at their ease. That would go along way toward knitting the disparate crew which Astall had assembled together.

"Still abed," Enki chuckled. "No doubt he is dreaming of one or another of his conquests -- female belike, but perhaps he is only savoring a victory in battle. The latter is, however, rather unlikely. Urki is usually not one to dream about blood when he can conjure up a pretty face."

"Sit down and join me, girl," Wolf said gently. "I just spoke with Fran and he said he would have breakfast ready soon. Since we are to be companions for the foreseeable future we should get better acquainted. Tell me about yourself."

Enki smiled and said, "I suppose we should begin get to know one another. I would start my tale like most tales about oneself and say that there isn't much to tell, but that isn't really true. As with most people there is far too much to tell and much of it wouldn't interest most others. And my tale is really the tale of two people, not one. Urki and I were born within minutes of each other and have only rarely been apart since.

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Chapter 4 (Conclusion)

With that the woodsman stepped back and Astall continued, "The young woman in black is Neun Ja.   She is from a land far away on the other side of Zemelia.   Like you, she has been the apprentice of a master for quite some time.   Unlike you, she has studied more than magic.   While she is a powerful thaumaturge as her affinity for the coronet demonstrates, she has approached the power of the mind from a different tack than that which I have taught you.   She has found her strength through pure self-discovery and meditation rather than the incantations and mental exercises which I have had you learn.   Her path has also taught her physical skills which are like none we have here in Seremoreh.   She is accomplished in hand-to-hand combat and can move through locked doors as if they were open to the wind.   She can disappear into shadows as if she was a shadow herself.   I have little doubt that her skills will prove invaluable during the trials which you will face."

With the conclusion of Astall's report about her, the incredibly beautiful young woman with the sloe eyes stepped forward.   She clasped her hands together and inclined her head toward Jerrod with a grace that took his breath away.    She moved like a dancer but with a unique and dangerous poise and a sense of balance that made even the cat-like agility which Wolf had earlier displayed seem clumsy in comparison.   Jerrod fell in lust all over again.

She stepped back into the shadows and, as Astall had said she could, she seemed to disappear as if she had never been there.   Astall smiled and recommenced the introductions.   "This fellow is Ordolf," he said, indicating the nondescript man who had suggested the now accepted explanation of Jerrod's seizure.   "He is a puissant mage, perhaps as mighty as any other in the world.   While his appearance may be deceiving, he knows more about the dark side of the arts than any member of our guild who has not turned renegade.   He will wear the ebon cape which will both destroy Iskandar's power over the dead and which will send him back to the enchanted rest from which he is now waking."

The unremarkable-looking archmage nodded to Jerrod and winked.

"You already have met Enki and Urki, so there is but one more of your company for me to introduce.  She is as extraordinary a being as any I have met and probably will be the most difficult member of the group for you to accept as a companion."

"Derazha is the product of a union many had thought impossible, both physically and emotionally.   But possible or no, she is the fruit of the union between a troll and an ilf.   Her mother, an ilvan princess, was captured by a band of marauding trolls who slaughtered her bodyguards and took her as she was travelling between ilvan communities.   Not surprisingly, they raped her.   What is amazing is that they didn't slay the young ilfess then and there.   Instead their dominant took a fancy to her and kept her as a pet or lover or mate or some combination of those.   She bore him a child.   That child was and is  Derazha."

"She raised her daughter and gave the child her love despite the vile nature of the act which begat her.  Derazha was like the other trolls in many ways.   She was large, powerful, omnivorous and voracious.   She looked much like other trolls except that the proportions were somewhat more ilf-like.   Like the other trollkin, her body also regenerated harm done to it."

"In some ways Derazha was different than other trolls, however.   She had a voice box which could shape ilvan or human speech without difficulty.   Instead of being cunning, she was thoughtful and insightful.   Most importantly, her nature was also most untrolllike.   She was not moved to rape, slaughter or pillage.   Instead, those things sickened Derazha.   She was moved by songs and art, by beauty and harmony."

"These things were difficult to come by among the trolls, however.   Still, she felt herself one of them despite the differences in inclination.   When her sire died, she took control of the band despite the patriarchal nature of their society which militated against her succession.   Derazha tried to teach the trollkin different ways, ways which went against their nature or mayhap only their nurture.  Whatever, the things she preached were foreign to them and many of the trollkin resisted.

It was a time of great travail among the trollkin.   But that is a story for another time, it has little bearing on you and your comrades at present.   Suffice it to say, Derazha failed in her attempt to remold the culture of the trolls.   Realizing that, she left and began to wander."

"Her fearsome exterior made it difficult for Derazha to find reactions other than fear or open hostility among those she encountered during her travels.   Eventually, however, she made it to the ilvan settlement in which her mother had been raised.   The first reaction of the ilvankind to her was much like that of the others she had met during her wanderings -- fear and open hostility -- but her ability to speak their language -- and other proofs which I will not go into -- convinced them that she was indeed the offspring of their lost princess.   They accepted her as one of them.   Their favor was reluctant at first but came with growing grace as they came to know her."

"Still, however, Derazha did not feel completely at home among the ilfs.   Her appearance and her size made it painfully obvious that while she may have been domiciled with them she was not one of them.   She longed to rid herself of the troll elements in her nature."

"Derazha sees this quest as her chance to accomplish that desire.   She believes that when she strips Iskandar of his troll nature there is a chance she will rid herself of that part of her as well.   I do not know if this is so, or even good, but I cannot deny her her hope especially when without her the rest of you will almost surely fail."

Derazha looked at Jerrod and smiled – a rather intimidating act from one with a collection of fangs like hers.

Jerrod, for his part, thought to himself that this was a group that was far more experienced than he.   Not only were they more experienced than he, nearly all of them had backgrounds which deserved his respect.   Most of them had some talent in the magic arts, and some surpassed him in the practice of the arcane.   One might even be the equal of his mentor.   Another of them had at least some royal blood.   
That left the warrior twins.   Somehow they did not seem to be as extraordinary as the rest of this group.   But why then would they be included by fate?  Had he missed something exceptional in them?   It seemed unlikely, but perhaps he should consider the possibility.

Still, it was quite a group.   Four women and four men.   A balance that seemed fated rather than chance.   Jerrod shook his head.   He was still more than a little disconcerted by the impact of the happenstances of the past few minutes.   His companions -- for that is what they now were, for some reason Jerrod no longer felt as if his volition mattered -- went back to the various tables at which they had been sitting, perhaps to contemplate the strange connection which they had all felt, perhaps just to finish their meals.   At any rate, Jerrod himself rose from his prone position atop the taproom's central table and stepped gingerly back to the table at which Astall, Urki, and Enki sat.

"Master, uh, Astall, uh, Master Astall...," Jerrod stammered as he spoke, because he no longer was sure how to address his teacher.

"Astall will do," his former mentor smiled.

"Astall," Jerrod said, "you have told me of the seven items, as I presume you have informed the others of these totems of power, but you also said something of a possible location for one of them."

"That I did, lad, that I did."  Astall grew once again serious.   "It is far from here, which can come as little surprise.   The ancient tomes over which I have pored for the past few months have suggested that the Sword of Might which is keyed to the twins is somewhere off to the south in the Islands of Despair.   At least that is where I believe it to be."

"Millennia ago the sword was sent as a gift from one king to another.   The reasons for such an extravagant gift are lost in time, perhaps it was a marriage, perhaps tribute, but whatever the reason the story of the voyage itself was recorded in a journal kept by a palace courtier whose brother was lost on the journey."

"The journal found its way into the palace archives of the kingdom of Aargran and a helpful archivist there made it known to me."

"In his journal, the courtier describes a voyage made by a huge fleet carrying gold, silver, gems, and soldiers which was headed to one of the kingdoms of the distant southern lands.   The voyage from Aargran to the southern kingdoms is, like the one from Seremoreh to the southern lands, long and perilous.   There are few places to land and even fewer where one can replenish supplies.   One of the places to restock one's supplies on the trip lies in the Islands of Despair.   Most of the islands, however, are barren wastelands which can feed barely feed a bird let alone a fleet.  They all have a sinister reputation."

"According to a missive which the courtier received by pigeon from his brother, the fleet's admiral, the fleet was en route to the depot in the islands when it was hit by a sudden squall which sank many ships and damaged most of the rest.   The fleet was adrift among the Islands of Despair with no food and little water.   The courtier heard no more.  It's amazing that he heard that much."

"If we take the man at his word -- and there seems little reason why we shouldn't -- then the sword which you seek is somewhere in the Islands of Despair.   Where, I know not.   Perhaps it lies under the sea.   Perhaps it was deposited on a deserted beach on one of the myriad islands of the archipelago."

"Whatever its precise location may be, the seven of you must discover on your own.   For good reason, the seven items of power are by their very nature impossible to locate by magical means.   Should Iskandar or his servants locate them then all is lost.   You must travel to the islands and seek out the sword, then either bring it back, or should you chance upon clues to the whereabouts of one of the other articles which can hamstring Iskandar's powers then you must follow that trail.  
"And you will not be the only ones who seek the keys to Iskandar's chains.   His minions, too, will be seeking those tokens of power, for I am convinced that the evil lich needs them to fully free himself.  Their puissance still binds him.   He must accomplish their destruction if he is to be truly returned to his full sway.   

"Where opposition will come from I ken not.   You can be certain that the trolls will oppose you, but there will be others also.   Men, ilfs, dwarfs, others past knowing may seek to hinder you in your quest or perhaps even to gather the items ere you are able.   But know this, they have no source of knowledge of the locations of the artifacts.   I deem that they will know even less than do we.   In this you will have the advantage.  But before you can seize it, first you must eat and then get a good night's rest.   I imagine you have much to chew on."    The old mage chuckled at his own wit.   He then stood and nodded as he said, "I, myself, plan on turning in.   Enjoy your meal and your company."   Astall left chuckling to himself apparently greatly amused by his attempts at humor.

The twins, who had sat back down at their places at the table which the four of them had earlier occupied, smiled at Astall's jests and began to once again enjoy the meals which they had barely begun.   Fortunately for them and for Jerrod, Fran had noticed the commotion which had gone on earlier and reheated their meals.   He had brought them back out as the quartet had returned to their tables, so they were piping hot.

Jerrod ate slowly.   As Astall had said, he had much to chew on.   His life had changed very drastically.  He had been ripped from the sheltered existence which he had had since birth.   No longer was he going to spend his days and nights under the protection of another in a warm, safe home far from any possible danger.   Instead, he was about to undertake a quest in which he would presumably assault the very gates of darkness.   He and his companions were to neutralize an undying archmage who had as his goal total dominion of the entire world.   And Jerrod's companions -- Jerrod's companions were a collection of people who were not only strangers but singularly strange.

Yet there was no doubt in Jerrod's mind that he must undertake the task set before him.   Why did he feel such a compulsion?   Was it the psychic resonance that Ordolf had diagnosed?   Was it his destiny, a destiny so powerful that he couldn't even question it?   Or was it some more mundane aspiration?   Was he longing secretly for adventure?   Or was the beauty of Neun Ja so overwhelming that he could do naught but seek her company wherever that might lead?   Perhaps it was a combination of some or mayhap all of those motives or perhaps those and still others which he had yet to recognize in himself.   Whatever the reason or reasons, Jerrod felt obliged to begin to strive to set Iskandar once more to rest.   Whatever the cost, it was something he felt he must do.

Sword of Might, Chapter 4

Chapter IV

Jerrod awoke with a start.   He peered out at the world through unfocused, bleary eyes.   The young mage found himself lying on the table upon which he vaguely remembered he and his mentor had stood.   As his bleary vision began to clear, strong, comely features filled with concern swam into view.   Bent over him was a redheaded woman in brown cleric's garb.

He heard Astall's voice rasp, "Is he alright, Brianna?  What's wrong with him?"

The redhead smiled at the contradictory questions.   "He will be if we give him some room and some time," she said in reply to Astall's first query.   "And in response to your other question, there is nothing wrong with him -- at least physically -- as far as I can tell."

Noticing the fluttering of Jerrod's eyelids, Brianna turned to him.   "Ah, I see you are returning from the world of dreams, young mage.   What happened?" said the shaman with concern.

"I'm not sure," Jerrod replied.   "It seemed as if I was suddenly in two places at once or as if I was seeing the world through someone else's eyes.   I was drawn to Astall like a marionette being drawn across a stage.   Then the world filled with a peculiar fog.   I got up on the table and greeted all of you, then you came toward me in a pack and then the world grew black...”  Jerrod broke off and blurted, “I'm not that young, and don't call me young mage!" 

Jerrod, his head still swimming, found himself almost babbling as he related his story to the monk.   Despite his less than complete mental equilibrium, however, he still found himself bothered by the fact that while his indisposition was being taken seriously, he didn't seem to be.

Brianna, as the cleric was known, chuckled and her xanthous hair swirled wildly within her hood.   "Well perhaps you aren't all that young, Jerrod.   But you are the youngest among us.   What we should call you besides your name – if anything – is something for us to decide at another time.   At present, I think we might be better served by determining exactly what befell you just now."

Brianna stood and Jerrod realized that she was the towering monk who had been sitting with the ranger.  She was well over two strides in height, yet she was slender, not thin, and, from what Jerrod could tell now that her backside wasn't the only part of her that he could see, she was well-proportioned.   She was pretty enough, with cool green eyes and a freckled complexion, but her height was the thing that was truly striking about her.   Jerrod had never seen a woman who  was even nearly as tall as Brianna.   When it came right down to it, there were few men that he had met who came close to matching her size.

Brianna's remarkable height had even distracted Jerrod for a moment from realizing that it was a woman who carried the enormous axe he had seen earlier.   His astonishment grew and his became wide as saucers as he realized how truly unique the woman who towered over him was.   Not only was she a comely cleric with carrot-colored hair and green eyes, but she was practically a giantess who apparently habitually carried an enormous axe which had as its obvious purpose bringing death to her foes.   Jerrod had never before seen a cleric with so manifest a weapon nor had he seen a woman besides Enki armed with more than a knife.   Without knowing any more about her, Jerrod could see that Brianna was clearly a woman who few would trifle with and just about as singular a person as Jerrod was likely to meet.

Well, it is said somewhere that one should expect the unexpected.   If Jerrod had done so, he would have been less astonished when he met the rest of his companions.   As those of you who are still awake and taking in this tale no doubt have surmised from their descriptions, each of Jerrod's comrades-to-be was in some way more singular than the others.

"I believe I may know what befell the lad," interjected the nondescript fellow who had been sitting at the bar and who, according to Astall, was an exceedingly powerful mage.   "He has been buffeted by psychic resonance which was induced by his acceptance of the wand.   It would seem that we -- or at least he, although I must admit I, too, felt something strange happen to me when the lad greeted us as friends -- are indeed as you surmised, Astall, present-day analogues to the heroes who neutralized Iskandar in days of yore and that the connections of old are making themselves known here in the here and now through the wand."

The others in the room admitted that they, too, had felt a strangeness in the room when Jerrod had addressed them as friends.   Their experiences ranged from feelings of compulsion to a deep and abiding affection for Jerrod that had not been there before the experience and was not there now.

Astall murmured, "Perhaps you are right, Ordolf.   It would explain the lad's collapse, and if you all felt something when I felt nothing then it seems that it must be something which relates only to you.   I wonder if perhaps you will find this happens each time you acquire one of the items.   Well, we won't know until you do and I shan't know then because I won't be there.   But, Ordolf, perhaps you could let me know...."

With that said, Astall turned back to Jerrod.   "Are you up to continuing, Jerrod?  If so I will introduce you to the rest of those present."

Jerrod nodded his assent.

"The cleric to whom you have been speaking is, as you no doubt surmised, named Brianna.   It is she who will be responsible for using the staff and severing Iskandar's connection with his godly supporters."

"Her husband is known as Wolf.   He is the stout fellow with whom she was sitting.   He knows the forest better than do even the wolves after whom he is called.   It is said he can track a bird in flight or hear a sparrow sing from a hundred miles away.   I misdoubt me that these tales are naught but the exaggerations that grow around the extraordinary, but mayhap they are true.   Even if they are but half-truths, he is the greatest woodsman of our age.   In addition, the amulet which breaks Iskandar's connection to the spirit world is keyed to him, for he is one with the spirits of nature.   His bond with them is such that none can break it and, amplified, it can cleave Iskandar's sorcerous abilities from him like a woodsman's axe cleaves kindling."

A rather short but incredibly massive bearded man clad in greens and browns stepped forward and bowed.  Jerrod realized that the fellow he had assumed was a giant who had been sitting with Brianna was in reality more than a head shorter than two strides.   He was no giant.   In fact, he looked more like a boulder than giantkin.   He was nearly as wide as he was tall, but he moved with the stealth and silence of a cat even in a hospitable locale like the taproom of the Horse Brass.


As Wolf watched Jerrod take in exactly who he was and saw the incredulity which filled the young mage's face as he realized which of the patrons of the Horse Brass was Wolf, the forester grinned and his eyes twinkled.  "Not quite what you expected, eh, Jerrod.   Well, take it from me we are all something more and something less than we seem, mayhap if one is careful one can make sure that the surprises are not fatal."

Sword of Might, Chapter 3 (conclusion)

      "The threat to Seremoreh which we now face first rose ages ago.   It was a time of both great knowledge and great conflict.  Empires rose and fell in a generation.   Warlords dominated much of the world and their conflicts with one another were prodigious.   To each his victory over the others was paramount.   For some, any means to achieve victory was an acceptable means to achieve victory.   These men were willing to pay any price to accomplish their ends.   One such leader was Iskandar the Black.   Iskandar was one of the greatest of the warlords of those times and some said he was the favored of the gods."

"If he was, however, they were dark gods.   Iskandar was not content with the lands which he could conquer using just the armies of men who inhabited his homeland, although those armies were very fierce and he himself was a military genius.   He wanted to conquer the world.   To do so, he needed more might than could be found in his armies."

"So he made a bargain with a wicked sorcerer who had gained evil arcane knowledge.   Not only was the sorcerer with whom Iskandar dealt wicked, but his skill was nonpareil.   His knowledge of necromancy, sorcery, and thaumaturgy was unsurpassed.   Yes, I said necromancy.   Even though such its practice had even then long been taboo, Draling had become an adept in the foulest of magics.  The sorcerer, who is known to history as Draling, was not content to let the dead rest.   He used the energy of their spirits and their fleshly remains to power his evil experiments.   He also was well versed in alchemy and, using his dark arts, he created for Iskandar a new race made from human whose souls had been torn from their bodies and replaced by the spirits of dire wolves who had been starved and mistreated until both their hatred of human beings and their hunger knew no bounds.   When they were fed, the beasts were fed manflesh, so that they would acquire a taste for their enemies.


* * * * *

The old mage broke off from his narrative and shook his head.  He looked out at the rapt audience and growled, “Why this was supposed to imprint the beast’s descendants I don't understand.  It makes little sense that simply eating something will give your children a taste for it as anyone who has ever tried to convince a child that the butter-covered mushrooms which they so adore are truly tasty.   There had to be something more, something magical that invoked the law of contagion involved.   But that is part of an argument that has little point in this story.”


* * * * *


“At any rate,” he murmured as he resumed his narrative,   “To this evil combination, Draling added an alchemical elixir made from the glands of huge ferocious amphibians which roamed the land and seas of the far north then.  This elixir changed the bodies of Draling's creatures from something human to something far, far different, the beasts we call trolls.  The man-wolves grew and changed until they reached heights of over ten feet with skin that was scaled and leathery and lizard green in color.   Their bones grew thick and their sinews enormous.   Like many of the small amphibians which exist in Seremoreh today, these creatures gained the ability to regenerate parts of their body which were lost.   Fortunately, they were not particularly intelligent."

Jerrod glanced nervously at the creature who was devouring the enormous platters of food by the taproom's hearth as he listened to Astall's story.   The old man didn't seem worried about it, though, so Jerrod decided that perhaps he was safe despite the resemblance of their fellow guest to the evil creatures which the archmage described.   Still, one could never be too sure.

"Their leader, however, was.   Iskandar chose to become like one of his new race of monsters.   Like them, he was treated by Draling with the elixir of amphibians.   He, too, changed physically until no creature could stand before him.   He kept his intellect, however.   His ravening hunger for conquest made him just as rapacious as the beasts who had been created from humans whose souls had been replaced by the spirits of dire wolves."

"Instead of animal cunning, however, he had a human mind in that monstrous body and one of genius at that.   He saw that magic could provide power that military might could not.   He bade Draling teach him the arcane arts.   He was an apt student, so apt that because of the enormous energy that his new body provided, he soon surpassed Draling in thaumaturgic strength if not skill.   Skills, as you know, take more time.   Still, Iskandar mastered the lore which Draling offered as if it represented countries to be conquered.   Perhaps for him it did."

"At any rate he quickly grew in knowledge.   Just as quickly, he grew tired of the discipline with which any practitioner of the arts of the supernatural must abide.   He began to resent Draling for imposing that discipline.   Iskandar decided that he must have absorbed all that Draling had to offer.   Why else would the dark mage force such petty limitations on him?   It was not his nature to bow to the will of another.  The resentment that Iskandar felt soon grew into rancor and Iskandar decided to do away with his mentor in the black arts."

"Iskandar slew Draling in a duel arcane that surpassed any that had gone before.  Perhaps had his teacher been prepared for the battle the outcome would have been different.   Perhaps he could have overcome Iskandar's tremendous thaumaturgic strength and the prepared spells which the young emperor had awaiting him.   But he wasn't and so he didn't.   Draling died.   But not before he cursed Iskandar.   He called the wrath of the heavens down on the young emperor and using every bit of power and energy which was his -- and he was a great sorcerer -- he doomed Iskandar to die the moment the young emperor achieved his goal of world domination and to never have any progeny to whom he could leave his legacy."

"Iskandar's goal was one which the rest of the world would rather not see fulfilled.   The other warlords and their magicians banded together to stop Iskandar and his armies and his newly created armies of trolls, for that is what Draling had concocted -- trolls.   Even so, the dark emperor almost succeeded in his dark quest.   His armies and their monstrous allies were all but unstoppable when directed by the military genius of Iskandar.   Somehow he had to be riven from them."

"Assassination was attempted.   It failed.   Mortal wounds healed in moments when inflicted on the dark one.   Poisons didn't seem to have any lasting impact.   Even attempts by sorcery failed.   Perhaps it was the alteration to his makeup which the elixir had wrought.   Perhaps the curse of Draling kept Iskandar alive to ensure that he would see his greatest triumph reft from him just as it came into his grasp.   More likely, the two worked in tandem with Iskandar's own black skills to keep the evil emperor alive."

"The councils of the other warlords decided that if Iskandar could not be killed then he must be imprisoned somewhere he could never be freed.   That was a far greater task than mere assassination.   It required both military prowess to fight his armies to a standstill and magical might to offset that of the dark ruler."

"To the second end, seven items of power were forged.   Each had a role to play in imprisoning of Iskandar.   Each was keyed to one of his abilities, its role to suspend Iskandar's ability in a specific area.   There was one for his sorcery, one for his wizardry, one for his necromancy, one to remove his alchemical transformation, one for his thaumaturgic abilities, one for his military genius, and one for his theistic influence."

"Each item was attuned to a single hero who must needs activate it in Iskandar's presence.   Each hero was singular in his abilities whether magical or military.   Some were skilled in both arts.   But all were the cream of the warlords' military and magical forces."

"In order to accomplish the task of negating Iskandar, a desperate battle was planned in which all of the forces of the opponents of the evil emperor were committed.   The forces of the warlords far outnumbered those of Iskandar, but the only way in which they could guarantee that at least a draw would be gained was by offsetting Iskandar's military genius with numbers.   And at least a draw was necessary, for the plan demanded that during the battle the seven heroes come into Iskandar's presence so they could subdue his powers and capture him.   With a draw or in the unlikely circumstance of a victory, they could perhaps in the confusion of battle draw near enough to activate their individual agent of Iskandar's defeat without being slain immediately by the villain's minions."

"Suffice it to say that the seven were successful.   During the conclusive battle in the war against Iskandar, they drew near enough to Iskandar to activate their objects of power.   They battled through his bodyguard, which was no mean feat for it was made up of the fiercest of the trolls and the most doughty of his human minions.   The seven survived Iskandar's magic, again no mean feat for, as I said, his troll body generated enormous energy both magical and mundane."

"The heroes' might and skill surpassed those of Iskandar well enough in that battle that they could imprison his abilities.   With his abilities went his ability to control the trolls.   And with the loss of his powers and his dominion over the trolls, his freedom departed.   The trolls turned on Iskandar's human armies, their erstwhile allies, and tore the men limb from limb.   Having briefly sated their hunger and no longer being under the sway of Iskandar they quit the battlefield and left the evil emperor to his fate."

"The seven captured the one.   They negated his magic and locked him in chains.   He was dragged from the battlefield like a felon.   His death was again sought but none could find its key.   In time, the warlords forsook the task of slaying Iskandar.   Instead they imprisoned him in the far north and scattered the objects which confined his powers.   One each went to the seven most powerful of the warlords for safekeeping."

"That was thousands of cycles ago.  Despite occasional attempts by the warlords of that time to collect the objects of power for their own nefarious ends, the artifacts gradually were lost to human ken.   They found places of safety in the dim corners of the world."

"I recovered one from the queen of spiders.   That is how I met the warrior twins.   The others must now be recovered and the chains with which they bound the powers of Iskandar must be reforged.   For once again, the power-mad monster stirs.   He seeks the restoration of his might and the recreation of his empire.  That is why the unseasonable chill has crept into Seremoreh.   The chill makes life more comfortable for the trolls whom he once again influences.   The trolls search for the keys to Iskandar's mystic powers in order to return them to him so he can regain his strength."

"We must stop them.   We must gather the items ourselves and reinforce the bonds which secure Iskandar.   That is the task of you and your companions-to-be.   You are this age's analogues to the heroes of Iskandar's time.   Only you can activate the items and renew the bonds which confine the evil demiurge.   No one else can accomplish that task and will you or nil you, whether you have come into your powers or not that is the geas I lay upon you."

Astall's eyes grew abruptly more intense.   Jerrod felt a sort of panic deep in his soul which was quickly replaced by a feeling of steely determination that seemed to come from outside him to accomplish the binding of Iskandar.

"You must expect intense opposition to your quest, however, Jerrod.   Despite your own nascent skills and those of your companions, no easy task has been set before you.   Most of the objects which bound Iskandar have been lost over time.   The only one which we know the whereabouts of for certain is this wand which I bequeath to you now.   The others are yours to seek.   As I said the trolls will attempt to stop you and gain the keys.   Perhaps other minions of evil will attempts to hinder your attempts to gather the keys.   They will attempt to gather them for themselves and their master.   Still others may seek to prevent you for their own less nefarious reasons.   There are certainly going to be guardians whose sole purpose is to protect the keys from treasure-seekers.   You must win through all difficulties by your strength and your skill and that of your companions."

"The only aid which I can offer at present is the nature of each of the objects and the ability which it extracted from Iskandar.   That, and a possible location for one of the items besides the wand.   Perhaps over time I will be able to do more.   I found the wand of wizardry created by Torvil which I have just consigned to you through the study of ancient tomes.   Mayhap such study will bear more fruit in the near future.   Barring that, you and your companions are on your own with the knowledge that I pass on to you."

"As I said there are seven items which you must gather.  The first key, the wand of Torvil, I have given to Jerrod.  It removes Iskandar's ability to use transformation to achieve his ends.  I have given the wand to you because you, Jerrod, are the present day analog of the one for whom the wand was originally created."

"The powers that be have been kind to us, Jerrod.   Or perhaps not.   Perhaps it is just part of some grand design and we are just pawns or playthings in the hands of powers far greater than ours.   In one land they believe that all of our lives are a part of a great tapestry which is constantly being woven and each thread in that tapestry is created and braided with a purpose.   No single strand is allowed to destroy the integrity of the whole.   For each strand or life which poses a threat to the balance of the tapestry, there is another or a group of others which offset its influence.   Perhaps they are right in that faraway place.   The threat that Iskandar poses to the world must be balanced by heroes who can defeat him.   That was true long ago.   Perhaps it is true now.   We won't know until you have accomplished your quest."

"Each of those in the group which we have gathered has been determined by the best means at our disposal to be the analog to one of those heroes of yore.   You, Jerrod, are the analog of the greatest wizard of that day.   While you have not yet come into the fullness of your power, you have the potential to become the greatest of practitioners of the art of transformation of the present day.   You must grow into that power in a hurry though, or all will be lost when Iskandar establishes his dominion over the world."

"Your companions-to-be are each are the analog of another of the great heroes of the past.   Each is attuned to an object of power...."

Astall shook his head.  "I must be getting old," he muttered half to himself.   "There I go repeating myself again."

"At any rate, the other six objects are a sword, an amulet, a staff, a coronet, a ring, and a cape of black.   The sword nullifies Iskandar's military genius when it is brought into his presence.   It is keyed to Enki and Urki.   Either or both.   Because they are twins they are indistinguishable from each other in this matter.   Both have the ability to meet the need and do that which needs to be done."

"The amulet severs his ability to contact the spirit world.   It is keyed to that woodsman over there.   The staff is keyed to his priestly companion and blocks Iskandar's theistic connections.   The coronet is linked to the woman dressed in black seated in the corner.   It prevents Iskandar from tapping into his immense stores of thaumaturgic energy.    The ring can be activated by that large green person over there by the fire.   It will reverse Iskandar's  transformation into one of the trollkin."

The last item is an ebon cape.   The cape is in reality more of a death shroud than a normal item of clothing.   It serves a dual purpose.   First, when worn in the presence of the evil would-be emperor, it frustrates any attempt which he might make to use or influence the dead.   Second, if it can be placed over him it will put him into an enchanted slumber that will last for another ten thousand years.   The cape can only be activated by the last of your companions.   He is in some ways the most powerful of your associates.   Although he may not appear to, in some ways he rivals me in magical skill.  In others, particularly the darker arts, he far surpasses my abilities."

"Who is he?   When will he arrive?" Jerrod interjected.

"Don't be dense, youngster.   Like the rest of you, he is already here.   You were the last to arrive.   This is far to important a conversation to have when anyone but you and your companions or those who are as fully committed to stopping the tide of evil could hear.   I may be getting on in years but I'm not completely senile!   He is that rather nondescript fellow over at the bar."

"I suppose I should introduce you to the rest of your comrades-to-be.   You will be spending quite a bit of time together from here on out."    With that, Astall stood and strode toward the center of the common room.   He climbed up onto one of the trestle tables as if he were as nimble as a young lad.

"My friends," he called.   "It is time for you to meet the last of your company.   Jerrod, come over here."

Jerrod seemed drawn to his old mentor as if he had no will of his own.   It was almost as if he were a marionette on a string.   He clambered up onto the table where the old mage stood and bowed to each of the gathered strangers, all seemingly without volition.   The others in the room stood as one and began to approach in unison.

The moment was strange to say the least.   There was an unnatural energy which seemed to pervade the room and made the world seem as if it were shrouded in a brilliant mist which clung to the others but did not obscure Jerrod's view of them.   Even more singular than the strange mist which pervaded the room was another scene which seemed to fade in and out of Jerrod's view.   It was almost as if he was in two places at once or as if two distinct visions of the world were at war with one another.

"My friends," he cried, "it is good to see you once again!"

Suddenly everything in Jerrod's world went black.