Authors: Kevin J Anderson
The fighter stood
motionless in the darkness. Dawn would come soon. But Tareah felt, as she
watched, that something else would come sooner....
The night filled
with tension, a buzzing
―
and then in front of Tarne the air
rippled and seemed to tear. The veteran cringed, only for an instant, but he
held his ground.
An ear-splitting
roar burst from beyond hearing, channelled closer.
Tarne remained
standing, braced and ready for whatever was coming. He raised his blade, either
in salute or defense.
Tareah hid deeper
in the shadows by the storehouse.
A hole in space appeared
in front of the fighter. The air snapped, and a huge, vague form appeared as a
solid shadow, then burst into sharp clarity.
A monstrous figure
stepped out, hulking forward in long strides.
It was an enormous
hairy beast bearing a gigantic snake
―
Tareah had never seen
anything like it, not in all her studies of the fighting monsters from the
ancient wars. She wondered why it had come, how Tarne knew it would arrive.
The demon stood
fully ten feet tall and three wide, though it walked hunched over, carrying a
great burden. A pelt of thick, blackish-brown hair covered its body, but its
head and chest plate were reptilian. The head seemed large for its body, almost
square, with a gaping mouth out of which lolled a forked tongue.
The monster bore a
tremendous serpent entwined around its body, a sickening green with oily,
rainbow scales and fiery red pupilless eyes. The scarlet glow shone like
embers.
From her hiding
place, Tareah felt the hairy demon's deep-set eyes strike her with an
overwhelming feeling of sadness and pity. She blinked to shake away the
emotion. She wanted to shout for help, but the other villagers lived too far
away. She didn't have the Water Stone with her, and only Tarne could actually
fight the monster.
The serpent reared
up upon seeing the armored fighter standing before it. The hairy monster did
not move until the serpent coiled and squeezed the demon's massive ribs, urging
it forward. The tree-trunk legs stumbled toward Tarne.
"You are
called the Slave of the Serpent," Tarne said. His voice sounded strong,
empty, different. "I have been waiting for you."
The Serpent hissed,
and the scarlet light blazed brighter. "Who are you?"
"Go back to
Scartaris. There's nothing for you here." Tarne said the words as if he
had memorized them, as if they were expected of him.
"Scartaris
must have the Fire Stone back. Must destroy fighter named Delrael and any other
character who would quest against Scartaris."
Tarne swallowed.
"Then I am Delrael." He held his sword before him, wavering the tip
back and forth. "I'll take any quests I want if I can save Gamearth."
Tareah wanted to
cheer for him
―
she could write down the legend of his brave fight
to defend the Stronghold.
"Give back the
Fire Stone!" the Serpent said, bobbing its head up and down.
"Sorry, we
need it right now."
By the storehouse,
Tareah watched with wide eyes, saying nothing. They were about to battle, just
like in the old stories. Tarne was a talented fighter, a veteran of many quests
and campaigns. He remained silent as he faced the demon and glared at the
Serpent.
She didn't know if
she was expected to help fight. But Delrael had called her inexperienced. She
would only get in the way, maybe even hurt Tarne's chances.
The Serpent urged
the lumbering Slave forward, nipping it. The fangs dripped foul-smelling venom.
The monster heaved itself forward, reluctant to move closer to the fighter.
The Slave halted a
moment as its pitiful eyes met the bald veteran's.
But the moment was
shattered as the Serpent savagely sank fangs into the Slave's neck, making it
howl in pain and rage.
Tarne leaped in,
moving with a smooth grace that belied his age. The chains on his armor
reflected starlight and the greenish aurora. He surprised the demon with his
attack, feinting, shifting the Slave's guard, and slashing at its belly. The
notched edge of the old blade sliced through the monster's tough chest plate,
but the Slave looked more angry than injured.
It swung a clawed
fist at Tarne, but the fighter hacked into the massive paw. The beast roared
and swung backward with his other arm, catching the fighter with a glancing
blow. Tarne spun, but recovered his balance as the Slave struck again.
The sword from the
old Sorcerers flashed up as the Slave tried to maul him but instead impaled its
own forearm on the tip of the blade. The monster howled, jerking its injured
arm away from the sword, then swatted at the blade with its other paw.
Tarne saw his
chance and thrust in at the chest plate, but the Slave's thick hide protected
it from serious harm. It lashed again with a wounded arm, but the monster moved
slowly. Tarne dodged and came back in, hacking with two-handed strokes.
He looked up and
his eyes met the Serpent's.
The huge snake
began weaving back and forth, swaying and hissing like a rhythmic fire with
green wood. The Serpent kept the fighter's eyes locked to its own. From her
hiding place, Tareah could see the veteran becoming entranced by the hypnotic
movement, dropping his guard.
Tareah stood up.
They didn't see her. She had to do something, use one of her spells.... She
couldn't run and get the Water Stone, and she felt small and defenseless. She
could attack with a minor fireball, perhaps, or a bolt of energy
―
but her aim might not be good enough, since the two opponents stood so close.
The bald fighter stared at the swaying Serpent, dazed.
"Tarne!"
she finally shouted.
The Slave swung
with its deadly claws, using all of its massive muscle power to rake across
Tarne's chest. The fighter sprawled on the ground with part of his armor
hanging in tatters and broken chains. The snapped links gleamed bright in
contrast to the tarnished older metal.
The armor had
protected Tarne, though. He climbed to his feet, gasping and trying to suck air
back into his lungs. He blinked, but he looked stunned.
He turned to stare
in amazement at Tareah. The Slave came at him again.
The fighter met the
charge head on, whirling the old sword in a random pattern of cuts and slashes.
Tufts of fur and drops of thick yellow blood flew from the demon. With a burst
of energy, Tarne drove in so forcefully that the weakened Slave stepped back.
Blood oozed from
slashes in its thick skin, running to the ground and leaving viscous, yellow
pools. The monster wheezed and panted, making weak attempts to defend itself.
Tarne stopped and
took a step back, holding the dripping sword in front of him. The Slave
appeared dazed and began to topple backward. The veteran watched with an
astonished grin on his face. He flashed a glance back at Tareah.
Abruptly, unexpectedly,
the huge Serpent flashed downward, stretching its body longer than seemed
possible. Fangs glistened with drops of diamond-like venom. The fighter looked
up, and the snake struck. The hollow fangs punctured his armor and sank into
his chest, gushing a mouthful of venom into his bloodstream.
Tarne fell.
By the weapons
storehouse, Tareah gasped and watched the veteran collapse writhing on the
ground. Ready to scream, she stood seething and helpless. She was untrained in
using her magic for combat. If her spells failed...
The hairy Servant
howled something like anguish into the growing light.
But the Serpent was
blood-maddened, pushing the massive beast back toward the stricken fighter.
That aroused
Tareah's anger enough that she screamed back at it. "Get away from
here!"
The demon turned to
face her. The Serpent opened its mouth to hiss.
More venom dripped
smoking onto the ground. The Slave took a step toward her.
Then Tareah
remembered the firepowder.
She ducked inside
the storehouse and snatched one of the clay casks.
The back of her
mind nagged at her, that she shouldn't be using
human
weapons, that her
simple fire-starting spell was far too trivial to be used in any battle that
anyone would remember.
The Serpent coiled
around the Slave's neck. The hairy beast spread out its giant arms, splaying
its claws and dripping glob of yellow blood down its fur. It roared into the
approaching dawn, then strode toward Tareah.
She decided not to
worry about fighting tactics. She closed her eyes and summoned up the
fire-starting spell. It was a trivial spell, something anyone with a trace of
Sorcerer blood could do easily
―
and Tareah succeeded the first
time.
The fuse hissed and
sizzled as the spark ate its way down.
The Slave charged
at her.
She tossed the cask
at the demon. "Catch!"
The firepowder
exploded in a brilliant flash of fire and light, spraying the Slave of the
Serpent with burning streamers and chunks of clay.
Tareah fell
backward against the wall of the storehouse, rubbing her blinded eyes and
gasping. Stinging chips of pottery fragments slashed her face.
She saw the smoking
demon charge howling around the training yard. It charged into the upright logs
of the double wall, sending a shower of the packed dirt trickling down. The
monster beat at flames burning on its shoulder, its chest.
On the ground,
Tarne still cried out in spasms. Spittle ran down his cheek back to his ear.
The Serpent reared
back and glared at her. "Delrael is dead. No more quests! Scartaris will
come back for Fire Stone!"
The rip in the air
opened up again with a snap, and the howling beast plunged back into it. The
Slave of the Serpent was swallowed up by nothing, disappearing.
Panting, Tareah ran
to where the veteran lay trembling on the ground.
Two blue flames
burned from the puncture wounds on his chest, blackening the leather of his
armor as the venom coursed through his bloodstream. He grimaced and shuddered,
gripping the ancient sword.
He crawled forward,
but Tareah stopped him. His eyes were glassy and unseeing. She stroked his
cheek, muttering nonsense to him. Her magic could do nothing to stop the
burning poison, to bring him back from death's stranglehold.
Tarne said nothing
intelligible, which also confused her: all the legends had led her to expect
dying characters to make a final dramatic speech before death.
The veteran stared
at the glow of sunlight in the eastern sky rising up toward dawn, as the aurora
overhead dimmed. His gray eyes did not close. The fires inside him burned out
in a burst of dark energy, and he crumpled to ashes within his ancient and
damaged vest of armor.
"Let the Game
go on forever, and may your score always increase," Tareah whispered for
him, the accepted farewell for a trusted companion.
Tareah stood up,
blinking her eyes. Old Siya hung by the doorway of the main building, then
moved mechanically toward the fallen fighter. An expression of complete horror
hung on her face. Tareah wondered how long she had been standing there,
attracted by the noise of the fight.
Tareah remembered
the tears on the fighter's face, the fear in his eyes; she remembered how he
had arrived in armor, waiting. Tarne had
known
ahead of time. He had deceived
the demon into thinking it had slain Delrael.
He had known this
battle would kill him! And yet he had come anyway.
Tareah realized
that she was now completely alone. She had no one to help her fight against
whatever else Scartaris would send against them.
The dead fighter's
ashes left a black stain on the ground.
"Rule #3:
Questing characters may join with any other characters they encounter. Note,
though, that the alignment of such newfound companions might not be clear. All
characters have their own quests, their own preferred outcome to an
adventure."
―
The Book of
Rules
Journeyman clapped
his clay hands together and stretched his face in a grin. "Well, are we
off to see the Wizard?"
Bryl looked at the
perplexed expressions on the faces of Vailret and Delrael, relieved to see
their skepticism. It was a nice switch, since they usually trusted everything
without a thought of caution. Bryl shook his head and scratched at his thinning
gray beard. After seeing some of the things Delrael did on impulse, Bryl was
surprised the fighter had lived as long as he had.
"Wizard?"
Delrael said, "We're going to find Scartaris, not just some magic
user."
"Merely a
figure of speech." Journeyman strode off into the forest terrain ahead of
Delrael and Vailret. Bryl wrung some water out of his blue cloak, sighed, and
followed them. The forest grew denser, but the quest-path marking their way
shone plain on the ground. The sounds of the Barrier River faded, leaving them
in the forest by themselves.