What has gone before #16 - Back to Nostrilia

On the Granessian The quiet hiss of the Granessian cutting through water on the way to the elvish trading port was suddenly broken by Legum. He and the rest of the group were enjoying a simple breakfast of fruit and bread with Hotherial and Plellelan . "Tell us about Nostrilia, Hotherial". He barely managed to keep the hostility out of his voice. Ziwa had shared her eavesdropping in on Hotherial's and Besancalthien's conversation with the group that morning. "Nostrilia?" replied Hotherial, clearly surprised at the turn in the conversation. "What about it?" "This... portable worldgate. The STAM crystal. There was a lot of high level magic in Nostrilia. How did it get there?" "Portable worldgate, maybe" replied Hotherial. "But I understand your question. Nostrilia was one of the magic research centers of the old High Council. A man, Jason Gorwell, a major holder, had a dream. He felt magic had the potential for creating the perfect society. With sufficient power to feed everyone, to cloth everyone, to allow people to free themselves from the daily toil just to survive; that would allow people to be the best that they could be. He poured everything he had into establishing the best magic schools, in attracting the best and brightest of the emerging magic users to his hold." "And..." prompted Rocky. "It worked beyond his wildest expectations. But it also sowed the seeds that eventual destroyed the man and his dreams." Hotherial was quiet for a second, as if contemplating an old pain. "Instead of draining his coffers and ruining his hold economically, the dire predictions of many others, the research performed at Nostrialia began to produce results almost immediately. Spells that seemed pointless to most, like one to improve the capability for a plot of land to grow crops by 5 or 10 percent, made Gorwell's farmers and craftsmen efficient enough to undercut local produces at other holds, even with transportation costs. The spells were many small things, to be sure, but they seemed to build on one another. The improved crops moved on wagons with almost frictionless axles, were kept cold by refrigeration spells, while the horses' daily distance was extended by haste spells and nourishment spells. Soon, Gorwell was able to charge astronomical amounts for classes in his magic schools. The smart holders paid. The less intelligent ones stayed away, and watched their people's standard of living collapse as they became incapable of competing with the magic assisted holds." "So what went wrong?" asked Ziwa as Hotherial paused again. "Several things. Gorwell's assumption that improving productivity would allow people to turn to other, more meaningful uses of their skills was naive. Many turned instead to gathering power and wealth to themselves. The fact that there was more to go around did not stop people from wanting more than their fair share. If anything, it seemed to exacerbate the situation. Other holders, jealous of Gorwell's success, quickly turned this to their advantage, using disgruntled members of Gorwell's staff and researchers to sabotage his efforts. This might have been overcome, but soon the High Council military began to realize that the gains Gorwell was making in areas like food production and transportation could be turned to military applications as well. The High Council began to insist that a percentage of Gorwell's efforts be turned toward supporting military goals. They paid well, but this further undermined Gorwell's plans, since the original rallying point had been building a better world for people. Many of his group saw the military support as selling out for cash, and there were several threats against his life. Finally, Gorwell disappeared. His sleeping quarters were undisturbed, and there was no reports of anything unusual. But he was gone, and was never seen again. A High Council General, Brath Morgart, was moved in over the magic schools, and although Gorwell's son became lord holder, he found that Morgart was outside his control. The magic research turned toward adapting the known spells to military applications, and the rapid progress made prior to that point ground to a halt as work on new spells was dropped in favor of more instantly gratifying results with simple changes to the old spells. A few years later, the fall began. Nostrilia was a early target because of it's military work, and the Chen Kunda crushed the hold during their march southward." "Were there any... problems between the elves and Gorwell?" asked Legum as he remembered the decayed remains of elves they had discovered locked away in some of Nostrilia's dungeons. They had never mentioned that to Hotherial before. Hotherial looked at him strangely and shrugged. "During the fall, there was a lot of friction between humans and elves in general. There was some unhappiness with our decision to stay out of the war." "Hotherial, we found skeletons of elves locked away in a dungeon under the Castle while we were looking for the STAM crystal" broke in Legum. Hotherial drew back as if stuck. "What? That can't be." 'Its true, Hotherial" piped in Ziwa, "and something... horrible happened to them." The revulsion on her face as she recalled the uneasiness, almost dread, that had come on her in that room spoke more loudly than her words. Hotherial's face became very still. Then he said "this is something that needs to be investigated, and soon. We will need your help, friends, to guide us to this dungeon." Templar looked around at the party. "Hotherial, no offense meant, but we've just been through hell. We need some time to unwind and recover our equilibrium." Hotherial looked around and nodded to the truth of that. "Perhaps so, Templar. And I suppose that if this dungeon has waited five hundred years, it can wait a few more weeks. We will continue to Lentenella Hollen. You can get some rest and pick up some spells at the same time." Jake spoke up. "After what we've been through, a few high level spells sound somewhat comforting. I'm really tired of getting my butt kicked." Guido shuddered as an old but not forgotten iciness ran down his veins. "I'm not sure you want to head for Nostrilia, then" he said quietly. Lentenella Hollen Jake calmed himself, opened his mind, concentrating on the complicated steps of the spell. The instant he finished, he heard a babble of voices speaking too quietly to hear. He strained to listen to them. "Jake" came the voice of Verella, his elvish instructor, "don't struggle so much. This spell will only allow you to pick up thoughts directed at you. You need to concentrate on that, not on the background stuff." Jake turned a little red, then almost cursed. By the same token, the elves taking this lesson could not have heard the teacher's admonishment. His reaction had given it away, however. It didn't help that his peers were small children who seemed to pick the stuff he had been working on for weeks in a few hours. This telepathy stuff was weird in many ways. The lying thing for instance. He had, despite Verella's warning, tried to "send" false thoughts. But thinking about the lie you were going to say to the person was broadcast as well, faster than you could keep from thinking it. Telling a lie was not impossible, but it was impossible not to tell the person you were in telepathic contact that you were about to lie to them. It worked out the same for all practical purposes. Jake sighed, then turned his attention back to the lesson. The rest of the afternoon went more smoothly, and he was feeling confident in his ability to use the telepathy spell by the time he left. As he thanked Verella, gathering his things together, she suddenly caught his arm. "Jake" she said out loud. It seemed strange after an afternoon of nothing but telepathic communication. "Hang on a second, will you?" He nodded in agreement, curious as to the topic she wanted to discuss. After the others had left, she looked at him appraisingly. "Jake, there is one thing you should know about using telepathy. I don't cover it with the children, but they are years away from needed the kind of information I'm going to give you, and I don't want to scare them." "I'm listening" said Jake, mild curiosity replaced with something more urgent. "Opening your mind this way is dangerous under some circumstances" Verella continued. "You and your friends seem to get into more mischief than entire continental populations. If you run into someone... or something... really advanced in this arena, the results can be... bad." "Bad? What exactly is 'bad'?" She was quiet for a moment. Finally, she spoke. "Imagine every molecule in your brain suddenly exploding out of your ears at the speed of light. That kind of bad. Just be a little careful around mind flayers, all right?" "MIND FLAYERS!" shouted Jake. "What the hell are mind flayers?" he continued with a quaver. "Nothing. I just made it up. But if there are some, I'm sure you'll find them" added Verella. Then she laughed. Jake joined the rest of the group a short time later, looking a bit tattered around the edges. Sometimes he was really finding it hard to like these elves. They all poured out the day's adventures, one after the other. When it became Templar's turn, things suddenly grew quieter. Templar had been using the elvish libraries, researching information about the old Lanotail Combine, the only human records of which had burned with the Stangri raids on Kethem fifty years before. Even now, much of the library was off limits to them, but there was more information in the open sections than Templar could get through in tens of years. Templar frowned thoughtfully. "I found an interesting passage today" he began slowly. "It was a short sentence that seemed out of context with the rest of the scroll, which concerned arguments between some nobles in the area that is now Pranan and others in the Tawhiem area over troop dispositions. The phrase was "The sign of the Chimera is the sign of the Gerensem." Legum's hand reached for his upper arm. He felt nothing, but knew that inscribed on it was the sign of a Chimera. It was a sign that had been there since Hotherial had cast a spell on them to help protect the secret of Renala [see "What has gone before #12]. "Any idea what the Gerensem are?" asked Galrog. His hand was rubbing his shirt sleeve in the same place Legum's was. "Vaguely... it was some sort of special cult or group in the Combine, a human group. But I can't remember the details." There seemed to be nothing more that could be done about it, and their discussion turned to future plans. "I think we're about ready to head for Nostrilia" said Legum. "We've gotten as much out of the elves as they are willing to give us at the moment, and I'm kind of anxious to get out on our own again. Hotherial wants us to guide Plellelan, Brogart, and four other elves to the dungeon under the castle in Nostrilia." "Brogart? Does it have to be Brogart?" asked Ziwa unhappily. "He's such a... such a... such a dweeb" she finished weakly. "You don't have to marry the guy, Ziwa" replied Legum in irritation, "just guide him". Ziwa nodded, but still looked distressed. Legum ignored it and went on. "We get the standard supplies... food, water, canoes with outboard motors. The elves going with us have, from what I understand, a well stocked bag of tricks with them, enough to handle anything we are likely to run in to." "Including shadow cats?" asked Guido. Legum shrugged. "I suppose. They know about them, so they must be ready to deal with them. It sounds like a sweet deal to me; we get a heavily armed escort into magic central of the old combine. What could go wrong?" He had to duck quickly as a large variety of quickly grabbed items were thrown at him by the rest of the group. On the Kubera River (again) "God, I hate these damn swamps" said Ziwa, disgust deep in her voice. They were making about five miles a day upriver thanks to the magically propelled canoes of the elves. The journey had been uneventful except for a short stop to visit the Guardians, who had uncovered nothing useful. Plellelan had questioned them for a while, gathering that they were multi-planar creatures who's presence on this plane had been almost eliminated during the battle with the Chen Kunda five hundred years before. They had then continued up river. "I think we're getting near the edge of the swamp now" said Tallow. All eyes strained to see ahead, and indeed it looked more open ahead. Everyone breathed a bit easier for a while. Then the figures of Kirander tribesman appeared on the bank of the Kubera ahead. Plellelan waved the boats into shore. "Well met, friend" Plellelan cried when they were close the the group. The Kirander were young, but there was one with the braffin tooth neckless that marked him as a shaman. He studied Plellelan with dark eyes that gave no hint of this thoughts. Finally he spoke. "Well, a little flotilla of elves and elf-friends heading up the river. How quaint." It was a less than friendly response, and Plellelan suddenly seemed more tense. Nonetheless, his tone was friendly as he continued. "Hardly a flotilla. I'm afraid I've never had the pleasure of meeting you before, Myya..." He left it hanging as a question. The Kirander waited just long enough for it to be insulting. "Japhon" he finally said. "Myya Japhon". Rocky and Legum suddenly became more attentive. They both recognized the name from the time they had been captured by one of the Kirander tribes [see What has gone before #14]. Plellelan's expression indicated that he, too, had heard of Japhon before. "And pray, who do I have the honor of addressing?" All of the elves introduced themselves, but the party members stayed quiet. Too many people knew of them already. Japhon looked over the adventurers, a question in his eyes. He asked nothing of them, however, and instead turned to the purpose of the small expedition. "Nothing that would concern you, friend" replied Plellelan coldly, his previous warmth gone. "Everything the elves do concerns me" replied Japhon in a voice as frosty as Plellelan's. "You must sleep poorly at night then," responded Plellelan, "because we do many things, some of which are dangerous for uninvolved parties to meddle in." 'Til take my chances" replied Japhon. "You already are" said Plellelan in a barely veiled threat. Japhon stood straighter, looking down at Plellelan. "You may pass this time, elf. But I warn you now. You have bled the Kirander dry for five centuries. What ever my fathers' fathers' fathers' ancient ancestors owed you was paid long ago. A day of reckoning is coming, and when it is over, I think you will not be so quick to slight me." With that, he turned and walked away, the rest of the Kirander following. Plellelan watched them disappear over a small brush-encrusted knoll without moving or speaking. Finally, he shook his head. "Well, that was rather ugly" he said to no one in particular. Looking grim, he waved to the rest of the group to continue up river. That evening, after mooring the boats, Rocky watched Plellelan. For the past few evenings, he had noticed Plellelan apparently whispering to himself just after they had settled in. This time was no exception, and Plellelan's odd conversation was much longer than it had been the previous few nights. He glanced over at Ziwa, noticed that she was watching Plellelan as well. He shrugged his shoulders, but Ziwa leaned over. "I think we're being tracked by a evowa" she said. "He's just making his daily report." Rocky nodded. It made sense, and underscored the apparent seriousness with which the elves were taking this journey. The next week passed uneventfully, and the terrain turned toward the more open, grassy knolls of the Sheravar. That night, they settled in like all the rest, but as darkness came on something unusual became evident. Flashes of white light and the sound of distant thunder sounded from somewhere far inland. The night was too clear for it to be a storm. Templar suggested they use the evona of Ziwa's to try to gather some information, but it did little to make the source more obvious. Legum suddenly exclaimed "If s the gate... the flashes are coming from Sheravar gate!" Hotherial was quickly contacted with the communication ring. After he had been told about the flashes, he replied "Yes. We've had reports already. It appears that Veskavar survived the encounter with the Black Dragon and is attempting to overcome Kekamar's barrier around the gate." This news caused mixed feelings among the group. Veskavar hadn't helped them all that much, but they had no reason to wish him any ill will. The flashes dimmed away after a while and they slept soundly. The next day they ran into a group of Sheravar on horseback along the banks of the Kubera. Plellelan, like the previous encounter, waved them in. "Well met, friend" he cried. "Well met" replied one of the Sheravar, a middle aged but wise looking man who clearly was the leader. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at the friendly welcome. Plellelan and the man, Shai Palerno, exchange pleasantries for a while. Then Plellelan asked "What were those strange flashes in your territory last night?" "Veskavar, the dragon from the north, seeks to open the Sheravar gate from Kekamar's spell" replied the man. "We are watching with interest." "Do you seek to stop him?" asked Plellelan. "Stop him?" replied the man in surprise. "No. We hope he opens the gate once again". It was Plellelan's turn to be surprised. "After the Urakai, and then the Chen Kunda, and finally the dark ones came from the gate to ravish you?" he asked. Palerno nodded. "Even so. We have a young but wise warrior who has united us in these times of trouble. Shai Weklis has spoken of this gate. It has great danger, true, but he points out that it has great power as well. The Sheravar have long been weak, easy meat for our enemies. With the power of the gate, we may yet take our rightful place, help to bring Tawhiem back to if s prior glory as a single, massive empire. Kekamar has sealed the gate to keep us from it, but we will persevere." "May it be as you hope, friend" replied Plellelan, but the doubt echoed clearly in his voice. Arriving in Nostrilia The rest of the trip up river was uneventful, even passing through Smagean. Finally, the low foothills around Nostrilia came into view. They pulled in to the crumbling stone piers along the waterfront. Here and there the stone was melted to slag, a reminder of the power and fury of the combat that had occurred here five centuries before. They unloaded, stretched their legs, then prepared for the trip to the castle in the ruins. One elf was left behind to guard the boats and provisions. The group quickly made their way to the castle's gate. Although it had been months since they had been here, the incredible events that had occurred here left a permanent mark in everyone's mind. As they entered the courtyard, the same smiling and lovely image of a woman appeared and, like their original trip into the castle, warned of using offensive magic inside the castle perimeter. They continued on, past the four statues that look like solid stone, but which the party knew where actually some kind of Golems that could be activated to defend the castle. They quickly found the secret door down into the dungeon. As they approached the pit trap they had encountered during the previous visit, Plellelan and the other elves put arrows to their bows, with Brogart a little slower than the others. The rest of the party felt it a sensible precaution, and likewise armed themselves. Guido quickly disarmed the pit trap in the center of the corridor, and they wound around the first two turns in the corridor. Jake was just behind Plellelan and another elf when there was a cry of fright from behind them, and the sudden glare and sharp, acidic smell of an electric arc. Plellelan and the other elf turned, eyes wide, almost panicky, with arrows notched and pulled back until the arrowheads almost touched the bow. There was nothing to be seen; the incident was at the back of the party, around a corner, but the babble of voices sounded more confused than anything else. It certainly did not sound like combat. The size of the party and the narrowness of the corridor made it cumbersome to regroup, but finally everyone was crowded together enough for Jake to see the back ranks of the party. One of Plellelan's friends was in the rear, talking with Guido. "I don't know... I thought I saw something" he was saying in a shaky voice. Guido looked at him oddly. "Jeez, man... err, elf, you let that charged arrow fly because you thought you saw something? It's a good thing no one was too close to the wall you hit; that lightning seemed to fly a good distance, and it sure left some nasty looking scorch marks in the wall." "I'm sorry." The elf shook his head. "I don't know what got into me. I'll watch it next time." Plellelan snorted in disgust, which Jake thought was a bit odd. He was normally so even tempered and supportive, you wouldn't think of him as the kind of person to harass someone for a mistake. They lined up again and continued down the corridor. Jake noticed that the elve's arrows were still drawn back, ready to fly, and wondered if they were aware of some sign of danger he wasn't. He began to scan the corridor more acutely, looking for whatever it could be. Suddenly, there was a twang, something zipped overhead, and a jagged ball of lightning went skimming down the corridor overhead, sparks falling in its wake. Jake was on down on one foot, attempting to draw his weapon while covering his head and eyes from the hot cinders still raining down from the ceiling. He looked around, saw one of the elves standing with an empty bow looking glassy eyed and grimacing as if in pain. "Tresantini" yelled Plellelan. Jake figured he had heard his first elvish curse. Plellelan pushed his way back to the elf. "What the hell is wrong with you!" Plellelan shoved both hands against the elf's chest hard enough to send him flying into the wall. "I'm sorry!" blubbered the other elf, still clutching his bow in white-knuckled hands, "I don't know what got into me." Plellelan continued to scream at him while Guido edged up next to Brogart. "This seems a bit unusual for Plellelan. And in fact, the other elves seem a little spooked too." Brogart glanced back at him. His normal sneer was missing, replaced with open astonishment. "A bit unusual? That's an understatement if I ever heard one." Guido said carefully "you aren't feeling any tension, are you?" Brogart shook his head negatively, and Guido, glancing at Brogart's loose grip on his weapon and puzzled expression, felt reassured. "No idea what could be bothering them?" Guido muttered as Plellelan's tirade finally ground to a halt. Brogart shook his head again. "Lets just keep an eye on them, alright?" said Brogart, then returned to his spot in the marching order as Plellelan reformed the group. They continued down the corridor another fifty feet or so. Then Hammerhand turned to talk to Templar beside him. His hammer hit the wall with an audible thunk. The elf on lead next to Plellelan screamed as if he had been impaled on a red hot iron, and another arrow flew down the passageway, the dark ahead giving way to the glare of the discharge as it hit a wall some distance away. Plellelan threw himself against the wall, his mouth frozen in a rictus of terror, eyes devoid of reason. He fumbled something out of his pocket, and there was suddenly a bright white glowing ball next to him emitting a piercing shriek that seemed to be heading up the audible scale as time went on. "SHIT!" yelled Brogart, suddenly looking just as panicky as the other elves, "That's a ground zero time delayed fireball! Get the HELL OUT!" Pandemonium broke loose as everyone turned and made tracks for the entrance. Two other elves in the back of the party had fallen to their hands and knees and were attempting to crawl away, but moved as if drunk or in such pain they could not concentrate on the mechanics of crawling. They made a difficult obstacle to pass, and some of the party members tripped while jumping over them, making the pile even worse. Plellelan, in the meantime, had pulled a wand and was screaming unintelligibly and shooting flame arcs down the corridor in a continuous stream of fire. Then he charged down the corridor, disappearing into the smoke. A few seconds later, the floor and walls shook as a loud WHUMP sounded and flames came blasting down the rock walls. There were simultaneous screams of pain as the crawling elves were engulfed in flame, then it hit the tail end of the party with the force of a huge fist, knocking people head over heels. Still, it was not as bad as it could have been. Several people had bad burns, but no one was dead. Plellelan was still screaming somewhere down further in the dungeon. They reset the pit trap, hoping to catch him and talk reason to him. It worked too well. It was a shallow pit, but Plellelan was completely out of control and took the fall badly, landing on his head and breaking his neck. In the meantime, the stone golems from above finally creaked their way down into the dungeon, forcing everyone to head for the other side of the pit trap and to reset it. Like last time, the lead golem hit the pit and fell into it. The others stopped on the other side of the trap. They knew from their previous experience, however, that they would only have to wait about twenty four hours, then the golems would be returned to the courtyard and reset. Ziwa carried Plellelan's body out to the boats and the elf standing guard through the shadow land. It was decided to take Plellelan's body down river to the elves. Fortunately, one of the elves that had been engulfed in the fireball had survived, so they could afford to send one elf down river with the bodies and have one stay and guard the remainder of the boats. That left the party with the dungeon. It was time to start exploring... [to be continued in "What has gone before #17"]