|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
The recent uprising by Lord Lashen and his mercenaries, was followed by the spirited defense of the Dales, with the help of their neighbors from Sembia, Cormyr, and Hillsfar. Lady Erewan worried of a threat to her infant son, the new heir to the throne of Scardale. It became apparent. She wanted to flee for the safety of her son. “I must leave. My son is in danger, and all of you as well for protecting us.” Lady Erewan said. “I know of a perfect hiding spot away from this danger, my lady.” Dinnel volunteered. “Where might that be?” Lady Erewan asked. “Well, the court of Cormanthyr will be the first place they will go searching once they find out the wife of Thenedain has a child. The Zhentarim will search wide and far. My parent’s farm is west and north of High Moon.” Dinnel added. “I know of his parents.” Garntay said standing in to vouch for the youth. “Thank you Garntay, but my parents mean no one any ill will.” Garntay said needlessly defending his family. “His mother taught him all he knows about Corrallon. She too is a High Priestess of the faith. Her name is Dawnel. Her husband is a simple farmer, and a great half-elven warrior named Dannel. It is believed he has cemented relations with Tuaregs who run within the interior of the great desert.” Garntay said. His expression failed to show his wealth of knowledge. “Aye! It is the Tuaregs, who are thorns in the side of the Zhents.” Boldar exclaimed. “The Tuaregs?” Kjellinger asked. “It seems our skald has found out a fact he does not know. Your mentor, Amelior Amanitas, would shiver at the thought you were not prepared to go into detail about this one subject.” The mage said as he ribbed the bard for not knowing a certain fact. “He has proven his worth in other areas,” Garntay said. “So Dinnel, tell me about your parent’s farm.” Lady Erewan inquired. “It is large, the largest in the Lost Dale. They tend many types of animals, and some that are not so well known.” Dinnel began. “Where is that place, the Lost Dale?” The bard asked. “The Lost Vale is just north of the center on the western face of the Desert Mouth Mountains.” Dinnel continued. “I am thoroughly lost about where this place is.” The skald said. “Dinnel, take Kjellinger with you tomorrow, and go to the cartographer. Ask if they have a map of the Dalelands, and the outer lands.” The mage said. “Right. I will do that early.” Dinnel responded. The very next day Kjellinger cornered his dear friend, the warrior priest, and spoke with him at length regarding our journey. The bard had opted to loosen Dinnel’s lips with several pots of the local brew, but that was not necessary, although the brew was very good. Speaking openly of their journey, the warrior priest discussed the perils that could be presented to the party. Dinnel began by thanking Kjellinger for the ale. “Ah! My good friend, but ale is the reward of all adventuring companions.” Kjellinger remarked. “Aye Kjell! We have before us a long, arduous journey laden with treachery. We are traveling into the heart of Zhentarim influence. You have heard of Teshwave falling to Zhentarim forces?” The warrior priest asked the bard as he began the explanation of our route. “That I have, my friend. Boldar speaks of it often, and the dwarven mines of Tethyamar. Tethyamar is one of the largest mines south of the Spine of the World, and east of the Anauroch desert.” The skald said, nodding his head, and gingerly sipping at a full pot of ale. “Aye my friend, you are familiar. Fortunately we do not have to go that far north.” The warrior-priest said, as he looked about carefully, and started to speak softly. Kjellinger edged closer to hear him. Dinnel was tracing a line on the parchment map from Deepingdale by river to Shadowdale. “We will need to portage at least once here, at the mouth of the River Ashaba, near the Pool of Yeven, where the Glaemril, or Deeping Stream converges with the Ashaba River at this confluence.” Dinnel said as he briefly, but expertly pointed out the finer details of our trek that lay before us. “Did you say portage?” The bard asked quietly, and imitated a hiccup, and looked about the inn for would be listeners. The skald turned his head away from the table and belched. He took the opportunity was then made to examine the nearest tables and booths for would be spies. “Bless you friend Kjell.” Dinnel politely said. “As my fine mother used to say, ‘Tis not bad manners, just good beer’, as you were saying my fine friend.” Kjellinger said after he wiped the foam off his suds laden mustache. “As I was saying.” Dinnel continued. “We row up the stream to the city of Shadowdale.” “Aye, the eternal home of Elminster. He is the best known, and yet the hardest mage to find on Toril.” The bard said. “You have met him?” The warrior priest asked. “No. Have you?” The bard returned. “Nay. He will be nay available, even if we do find him. I am sure he knows what is going on, but he is watched constantly, and the fewer people we draw attention to this the better we are.” Dinnel said emphatically. “That is true mate.” The bard quipped. “After Shadowdale, we either walk, or ride toward Daggerdale to the northwest. We cannot go into this forest because it is so dangerous. Foul creatures abide in there. Once we skirt the forest to the north, we ride, or walk through these mountains to me ma and pa’s home in the Lost Vale.” Dinnel said smiling, as though he had just solved a puzzle. “Easier said than done. The Dark Network would love to get their fell hands upon the princess, and her son. We are few, and they are many. Care must be taken as we venture forth, and not reveal our destination. The party must keep it among them, or we lose everything. I would not waste my friendship with Lord Thenedain, by being careless.” Kjellinger said. “Aye, he was a great man. His loss was great in the Dales. He will surely be missed. He should have been on the thrown instead of his nephew, but he was loyal to the crown, ‘til the end. May the Gods save his soul from the reavers of hell.” The warrior-priest said, as he clasped a holy symbol of Corrallon Larethien in one hand, and traced a sigil of the deity in the air before him. “We should start right away. Do you have coins?” the bard asked. “Why would you ask a warrior priest of such a thing?” Dinnel said with a wry smile. “I have funds to carry me home if that is what you are asking?” “No, my friend, take this.” The skald said as Kjellinger extended Dinnel a pouch, and shook it. Coins jingled inside the pouch. “Aye! That sounds heavy!” Dinnel said with a grin. “Yes, it is platinum. I have been saving it for just such an occasion. Buy what you can. I will arrange for a boat. We must leave before dawn.” Dinnel took the pouch of platinum coins, and finished his ale, then he went to the nearest outfitter, and bought equipment he deemed necessary. Kjellinger, on the other hand, went to the small lazy waterfront, and asked the miller what he would take for a large enough boat to get the bard and his provisions to the Pool of Yeven. The man was a thief. He wanted fifty silver coins for a boat as small as a punt. The skald pointed to a faering twice that size, and the miller shook his head. With the shaking of more coins, which was steadily dwindling in Kjellinger’s possession, the miller broke, and sold his largest craft, a ten-seated faering made for riparian travel. The bard’s losses on the gamble were almost fifteen platinum pieces. Kjellinger had participated in dicing games that were friendlier than dealing with this man. The bard asked particulars about the portage fee down Feather Falls, which was in the opposite direction the bard wanted to travel. In a round about way, the skald returned to the house, and informed Xarno of his accomplishment, and told Xarno of Dinnel’s errand. “Kjellinger, what would I do without you? Excellent, then we must make preparations. I will speak to Lady Erewan.” With that said, Xarno stood, and walked up the stairs to the second floor. In moments Lady Erewan stepped into the parlor, and we all stood and bowed deeply in her presence. “Oh please. Rise. You all have done such a great thing in caring for my interests. Xarno has just explained your readiness. We must let elven Court know what our intentions are.” Lady Erewan said. “Excuse me,” Xarno said. “ My Lady, but we must not be too hasty in communicating with your father, the Regent, and we cannot wait. We will find a messenger in Shadowdale, or we can scry our way into the elven Court. Between those of us who have the gift of magic, we will find a solution to your requirements of letting your father, the regent, know of your location. Trust your father, the elves are proficient at finding whom they are seeking.” “Xarno is correct, my Lady.” Kjellinger said. “We must not tip off our hand to the Dark Network. They have spies everywhere, and more in the direction we travel, so we must take extreme care to protect our intent.” Xarno added. “Yes, I do suppose you are correct. When shall we begin?” Lady Erewan asked. “Immediately, we rise just before dawn, and depart soon there after.” The mage imparted. The rear door opened, and Dinnel entered. “My Lady.” He said with a quick bow. “I have our supplies and equipment. No horses, but I have some additional equipment we can use to replace our old gear. I have food for half again the additional days we should be on the trail, and I bought some gifts for me mother, and me pa.” Boldar stood from his place behind the kitchen table. He had been so small, and had not been noticed with all the commotion. “Where do we plan on goin’? I thought we were stayin’ here.” Boldar said gruffly. “No my dwarven friend, we must leave High Moon, and Deepingdale behind, for the safety of Lady Erewan, and Lord Quillan.” Xarno said. “Where ye’ be relocatin’?” The stout dwarf asked. “Well, Kjellinger and Dinnel have cooked this up, quite well I might add. So they can answer all our questions now if they do not mind taking some time out of their busy schedule to iron out the details.” Xarno said as he extended his hand to the bard and Dinnel. The warrior priest stepped up to the kitchen table, and moved the plates and mugs set out for the evening meal aside, and laid out his map. That immediately had the party’s attention. Everyone crowded around the table as Dinnel pointed out specific landmarks on the map. His finger lay on High Moon. “We are here, and we are going here, the Desert Mouth Mountains.” Dinnel said as he looked up at the various faces in the party. “Aye! There be a haunted forest in our way.” The dwarf said. “We will skirt it to the east and north.” Dinnel said, and we will bypass Daggerdale, by traveling south of that city.” “That is some long ridin’.” Boldar added. “Aye! The bard has taken care of that avenue. His plan should remove days from our journey. Kjell, would you please explain.” The warrior priest turned the explanation over to the skald. “Okay, we travel by boat to this.” Kjellinger said as Boldar emphatically interrupted. “Boat. Ye have got to be off your noggin’. I ain’t ridin’ in no boat.” The mage stepped forward. “Now Boldar, you and I have been in many adventures together. This will be easy. Let Kjellinger explain the route, and we will iron out the details. Continue Kjell.” “Thank-you, Xarno. As I was saying, we take a boat from High Moon to the portage where the Glaemril spills into the Ashaba River. We will portage there, so our equipment must be extremely mobile, and we will be tending the Lady, and her son. Dinnel, you should start bringing in that new equipment.” The bard suggested as the skald explained. Dinnel disappeared out the back door, and brought in armload after armload of adventuring gear. He deposited a new frame pack at the foot of each party member. Then he deposited the bulk of his shopping spree in a pile bounded by the corner of the parlor after he removed two items, and secured them for himself. “After the portage,” Kjellinger continued. “We would continue by the same boat to Shadowdale. Now we have an option at this point. We can attempt the transit by ourselves, and brave the bandits and brigands that frequent the Ashaba, or we can find a trading costar traveling to Shadowdale by barge.” Garntay spoke up for the first time. “What are our chances if we travel alone?” “Our chances are poor at best.” Lady Erewan said. “Those are the southern lands below the Vale of Lost Voices. Human, and human incursions have been the greatest there. The elven patrols are few because of the Scardale debacle, and they are hard pressed to find trespassers.” She added. “Then we need to find a merchant traveling up the river. It will solidify our defense, and provide us a cover story as we travel. It will be to our mutual benefit, if we join up with a merchant.” Xarno added. Heads nodded except Boldar’s who sat on the end of the table with a frown, and had his arms crossed defiantly on his barrel chest. Xarno said. “Before we all get packed, I will take your heavy and bulky mundane items, and reduce them in size until we need them. So let us get down to it. We have little time, and a lot to do.” The party immediately set upon the task, and began sorting through personal belongings. The weaponry was similar. Everyone had a long bow with at least three capped quivers of arrows. Secondary weapons and shields were attached to packs. Each member of the party had his own load out. Xarno carried one set of spare clothing, two wands - one of illusion, one and of wonder. Three rings: one of protection, one of regeneration, and one of water walking. The latter he secured in his belt pouch. A suit of elven chain mail, a sheet of smallness, his spell book, and bandoleers of fifty throwing darts with nine magical darts. His primary weapon was a magical staff. Garntay carried a spare set of traveling clothes: a suit of magical chain mail. The High Priest also had a potion of clairvoyance; three scrolls of protection - one from illusions, one from blunt magical weapons, and one from possession. He also carried a small bag of holding, and his primary weapon was a magical mace, a standard mace and a magical shield were strapped to his pack. Boldar carried a spare set of clothing four pouches containing 270 gems, a suit of splint mail. A magical hammer as a backup melee weapon, a short bow, and a shield were strapped to his pack. On his belt, he carried his magical beaked battle-axe, and a dagger. Dinnel carried a spare change of clothes. His secondary weapons included a composite long bow, a hammer, a long sword, and five magical hand axes. These items along with a shield were strapped to his pack. He also carried a wand of mineral and metal command, two scrolls of protection; one from lycanthrope, and the other from undead, a potion of heroism, and a hand sketched drawing of the party with Thenedain and Erewan. The weapons he carried were a magical single bitted battle-axe and a dagger. The skald carried a spare change of clothes. His secondary weapons included a long bow, a short sword, and four magical throwing axes all strapped to his pack. Additional magical equipment carried was a figurine of a Minotaur, a wand of conjuration, a ring of feather fall, and two musical instruments. The smaller was a flute of mammal control, and the Lute of Amdraliath. His primary weapons were a long sword and a knife. With all the party’s essential equipment packed, Xarno assigned who would carry camping gear, who carried food. Since Garntay was the chef, and since he had the bag of holding he decided how many meals they would require for the journey. “I calculate about 147 leagues to our destination, which means 37 days of travel, and requires about 220 major meals. Pack what each member would like to pick on as us travel for that amount of time. I will deal with the meals at one main meal a day. Bring money, or bartering goods for occasions on the trail.” Garntay said as he grabbed items from the pile in the corner of the parlor. It looked like chaos, but this was how the party operated. They were efficient. With each member grabbing what he favored, most immediately asking Erewan if she would like to pick first, and surrendering items to her at will. Food would be scarce on the trail because they would be traveling upstream by boat. Fortunately Dinnel had obtained an ample amount. Camping would be accomplished toward the end of each day. Game would be scarce because of time, but if the opportunity presented itself, the party would enjoy the fresh meat. Garntay packed dried meats, beans, and vegetables. These were easy to maintain on the trail. He was adept at finding wild edible plants to enhance the flavor and texture of a meal. Meanwhile, jerky and cheeses were sliced and wrapped by the others, and placed in packs and rucks. Boldar brought out two pony kegs, and placed them before Xarno. “Your ale I presume?” Xarno asked. The dwarven warrior nodded with a smile. “You know that once they are open, I cannot reduce them.” The mage said. Boldar disappeared, and retrieved two more pony kegs. “Okay Boldar, is that enough for our trip?” Xarno asked. “If we be traveling by boat, then I must have some good stuff to whet my whistle.” The dwarf said. “I am sure we will have the room once they are opened. Knowing you, my dwarven friend, you will be thirsty on the fifth day.” The mage said. Boldar stood, and waited as Xarno retrieved his sheet of smallness from his pack. The magical item looked innocuous, but in reality was a very important item to the party. It reduced non-magical items to one-twelfth their original size and weight. A sheet of smallness had two sides. Each side having a red and white, checkered pattern, one side had large checks, while the other had small checks. Xarno had Boldar lift each keg onto the sheet, small checks up, which Xarno promptly wrapped, and said the activation word. Each keg could be carried in the palm of Boldar’s hand. A sheet of smallness effectively reduced the encumbrance, and made a great dining cloth for outings. With all the equipment packed, shields strapped to packs, and little left remaining, the party set to getting some rest before their departure from High Moon. They awoke in the early morning hours as Boldar awoke Xarno. They arose, and completed their readiness. Faces washed and hair combed, Xarno and company left the house after locking the doors and windows. Leaving the key and a note with a friend, and explained that they would return in about two and one half months with tales to tell. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Xarno had Kjellinger took the point, and Boldar took the rear. The bard picked his way through silent streets and alleyways to the miller’s, where the faering was waiting. They loaded the large klinker? Outrigger, and boarded, with the weight evenly dispersed. A mild push after casting off sent them on our way down the Glaemril. Garntay, Boldar, Dinnel, and Kjellinger had paddles to aid us as we propelled ourselves down the stream. The adventurers used their oars sparingly to maintain the center of the Glaemril, and kept the faering parallel to the shore. Bows had been limbered, with quivers stationed nearby. The stream was carrying them quickly down toward the Ashaba. By the end of the first day, the adventurers had traveled many leagues, taking much time off their journey. They beached the faering on the east shore of the stream, and made camp. “We have a small fire tonight. Garntay and Boldar, ensure it is deep enough to keep light from escaping deep into the surrounding forest. Kjell and Dinnel, you form a perimeter. Take food, and Boldar will rotate with each of you until you have both had a hot meal.” The mage said as Dinnel and I nodded, and grabbed bags of dried food from their personal stores. “I can relieve them, Xarno.” Erewan said. “No my Lady, your responsibility is to your son, and the two of you do not leave my sight.” The mage ordered. The elven princess said nothing in return. It was obvious who was in charge while the party was on the trail. As for her son’s safety Erewan was in total agreement. She had no experience on the trail in recent years since she was a child. Garntay and Boldar had finished digging the fire pit. They began finding firewood of a small sort for the fire. Once the fire started Garntay went about constructing a large meal for the party. Boldar had a container of dwarven ale he had pulled from his pack. This was in a container separate from his pony kegs. He listened for the sound of hissing gas as he opened his container and was rewarded with a loud hiss. The ale was still fresh. It was the same brewing as the pony kegs, and aged five years. Boldar was an accomplished brewer. He had set up a business of brewing dwarven ale, and other beers and ales in High Moon. The flavor derived from wheat, and other grain was excellent through experimentation, Boldar had reduced the hops to make the brew less bitter. Boldar had increased the amount of barley malt to his recipe to counter the loss of flavor by eliminating the bitter hops. It was heady, retaining an excellent head, but it was powerful. Those of the non-dwarven extraction had to be careful how much of this brew they imbibed. Garntay had finished with the meal, and had a plate for Erewan. She gladly took the plate, and looked at Xarno. “Please, eat your dinner, my Lady.” The mage said with a smile. The High Priest handed Xarno a plate, as he did Boldar. Both ate with fervor as the hot meal warmed their insides. When Boldar had finished, he returned the plate to Garntay, and went to relieve Kjellinger. The bard returned into the camp, and smiled at Erewan, as he sat beside her on a log. “Well?” Xarno asked. “Oh! I am sorry. I have not done this in a while. It is quiet out there, Xarno. I did not hear a peep.” The skald said. “Good. When you are done, relieve Dinnel. He has most likely sewn fields of defenses near his side of the perimeter. Have him do the same at your last position. Stay where he is now when you relieve him. He will relieve Boldar. Boldar will let you know when the exchange has occurred. Sing the beasties to sleep, and put up some magical wards.” Xarno ordered. Kjellinger ate heartily, and spoke little as he ate. The princess handed him a bag of wine, but the bard declined, with a wave of my hand. “Are you all like this on the trail?” The elven princess asked. The skald nodded as he chewed, and washed the food down with water. “We want you to live a long time Princess.” Kjellinger said after swallowing. “No telling what is out there.” The bard relieved Dinnel, and Dinnel instructed him where his defenses had been laid. Then Dinnel went to relieve Boldar, and Boldar informed Xarno and the skald of the exchange. Kjellinger sang to the beasts of the night, and set up a magical perimeter of his own. Singing of beauty and home, the bard also sang of elves and faeries. Then the skald went into a song he had worked on earlier in the year. I thought I had a girl I know because I seen her Her hair was golden brown Blowin’ free like a corn field She was far away I found it hard to reach her She told me you can try But it’s impossible to find her In my dreams everything was all right In your schemes you can only try I thought I had a girl I know because I seen her Her hair was golden brown Blowin’ free like a corn field Everyone slept well in camp that night, and they had no interruptions. In the morning, Dinnel and Kjellinger were in camp. Garntay and Dinnel prayed for spells while the bard went about gathering his equipment, and stowed their gear in the boat. Xarno was up quietly directing Boldar, as both cleaned up any residue from their stay at camp. The party tried not to leave a distinctive trail. Cleaning up was easier than clouding the atmosphere with magic. Thoroughness was the key to leaving the camp clean. By midday we were in the Glaemril and journeying further south. Dinnel and the skald both slept, while Boldar, Garntay, and Xarno rowed to maintain position in the center of the river. Occasionally they saw otters, but no large wildlife. Birds were commonplace. By the late afternoon they were looking for another place to haul out. The process of setting a camp was repeated, and the night passed quietly with no interruptions. On the third day the adventurers started seeing breaks in the forest to their east. Farmland and fences were visible close to the stream. “We are getting closer to the confluence of the Ashaba and the Glaemril.” Dinnel said. “Then tomorrow we will be at the portage?” Xarno asked. “That is right.” The warrior-priest answered. The first leg of their journey was almost complete. They chose to look upon the west bank for a good haul out, and were rewarded by a beautiful glen surrounded by trees. “We are in elven territory.” Erewan said. “How can you tell?” Kjellinger asked, biting his tongue for a stupid question. “See how everything is groomed, and the underbrush has been removed.” Erewan said. The bard nodded asking. “Why do the elves remove the underbrush?” “Not to allow fires started by lightning to spread among the trees.” The princess said. They beached the faering, and stepped ashore. “She is right.” Dinnel said as he noted where footprints were lightly pressed into the damp soil. Dinnel and the skald set out the equipment, then they began securing a perimeter. The birds were quiet. Kjellinger grabbed a hand full of the wet soil and rubbed it into his face and the back of his hands. The warrior priest turned to see what was going on behind him. The bard held a mud-coated finger to his lips. Doing something very unusual, the skald wrapped both his thumbs together and flapped his hands like a bird, then pointed to the trees. After that the skald crouched low to the ground, and put his right hand behind his ear. Then he shook his head, and repeated the action. A single birdcall was heard, and then another answered from a different location. Dinnel knew Kjellinger was a master at imitating bird and other animal sounds. People came from miles around trying to identify sounds they heard in the spring. The warrior priest tapped Kjellinger’s shoulder, and nodded his head. Kjellinger stopped his antics. The warrior priest opened a palm and walked two fingers across his palm. The skald nodded. Dinnel swung a pointed finger in an arc in the general direction of the original calls, then he shrugged his shoulders. Kjellinger used his flat hand, palm down, and signaled for Dinnel to get down. The bard used both hands quietly to speak with the warrior-priest. First the skald placed his right hand behind his ear, and then shrugged his shoulders. When the call repeated itself, Kjellinger pointed to Dinnel, and then pointed in the same direction the sounds came from. The warrior-priest went with his bow knocked traveling quietly looking for movement. He too took soil and rubbed it into his face and hands. The second call came, and the bard moved quietly. No time was available to tell Xarno. Somebody was here, and that somebody was watching the main body of the party of which Dinnel and the skald were a part. Kjellinger continued by stepping quietly through the light undergrowth, and used the trees and shrubs as cover. The call came again. It was a call of a robin, but not from a bird. The answer was even closer now that Kjellinger had moved. Dinnel heard the call, and remarked how familiar he was with the call. He did not know the bird, but it was close. The warrior-priest knew Kjellinger would tell him later. A second call came from further away. That was the call the bard was close too. Dinnel slowed, he did not want to make much noise, and blow the surprise. These were not orcs. Goblinoids did not operate like this. The bard had been on to this immediately. The warrior-priest was glad the bard had been on his side all this time. It was like the skald was intuitive Kjellinger closed in on the position where he had last heard the robin call. It was good, but he had heard better even from himself, and his teacher. It was the noise of feet clomping on the ground that caught the bard’s attention. The movement fixed his eyes to the point of origin. Two young elves were huddled snickering as they returned the originators call. Deciding it was time to turn the tables on the elven youths, Kjellinger acted on a whim. The originating call came, and the skald knew who the originator was. Before the elven youths could return the call, Kjellinger used a quick illusion, and put a Robin in the nearest tree to his position, then he returned the call. The youths laughed at what they believed they had done. Dinnel unmistakably heard Kjellinger do a birdcall, and remarked how he needed to learn that skill. He might have to bribe Kjellinger, but it would be worth it just hearing the bard imitate the calls. The warrior-priest heard footsteps near his position. Dinnel lay behind a log counting ants as he waited for time to pass. Kjellinger decided enough was enough. It was time to break this ruse. He started calling with different birdcalls, and changed the bird illusion to reflect the animal making the call. Footsteps could be heard from the originator’s position as the originator pushed through the light underbrush. Suddenly a familiar face pushed its way into the clearing where the elven youths stood amazed at the display they were seeing. As the adult male elf entered the clearing, Kjellinger stopped the spell, and the calls. The bard recognized the face as a long time friend, Lindesfjarn. “Who told you boys to keep it up with those calls?” Lindisfjarn asked. “We did not make any calls other than what you told us to make.” Both said. “Where did they come from?” Lindisfjarn asked. Both boys pointed in the direction of the nearest tree. “I do not see a thing. I know of only one person I know who can make those calls that well, and he is not here. You have some explaining to do.” Lindisfjarn said. Kjellinger knew this was a training exercise, and his friend Lindisfjarn would have to hear many explanations from the youths before the night was over. The warrior priest was working his way quietly to the original position where the two adventurers split. The warrior priest had heard voices. So he decided to rejoin with Kjellinger, who was near the point of origin of the second set of birdcalls. The warrior-priest saw the bard lying behind a bush near a large tree, close to where the bard lay hidden, stood an elven warrior with two elven youths. Dinnel took a knee and waited for something to happen. “You know Lindisfjarn,” Kjellinger said as he began to stand. “Your boys were doing all right until I arrived.” “Trust the teacher to interrupt the students.” Lindisfjarn said. “Kjellinger, why are you here?” “I needed a break, why are you here?” The bard answered. “I am training my sons.” The elven warrior said. “They have learned well, but their impetuosity gave them away.” Kjellinger said as he advanced into the clearing, bow unknocked, and hands out to his sides. “Why are you here my friend?” The elven warrior asked. “Looking for a place to camp, but I saw your sons’ footprints all over the riverbank.” Kjellinger replied. “You were always thorough.” The elven warrior said. “Take note my sons. This is the best half-elven bard in the Realms. His name is Kjellinger. Do you have anybody with you?” Lindisfjarn asked. “Dinnel, it is okay, we are with friends.” The bard said. Standing up, the warrior priest entered the clearing. “We are alone.” Dinnel said. “As I suspected. I want you to meet a good friend of mine, and his two sons, Lindisfjarn. This is Dinnel, my good friend and adventuring companion.” The skald said. “I thought you were in High Moon with Xarno and your group?” Lindisfjarn asked. “Well we were, but something came up.” The bard said. “Oh yeah, what was that my old friend?” The elven warrior asked. “I will show you.” Kjellinger said, and waved Lindisfjarn to follow him. Xarno, Garntay, and Boldar were setting camp as Kjellinger, Dinnel, Lindisfjarn and his two sons walked up to Xarno. “We have company, somebody before whom you have met.” Kjellinger said. “Oh yes! Who might that be?” The mage asked. “Hello, old friend.” Lindisfjarn said to Xarno. “Lindisfjarn, what are you doing here?” The mage asked. “I was training my sons on an off day. Kjellinger surprised them with some of his roguish tricks.” The elven warrior replied. The elven warrior said hello to everyone, except Erewan. When she appeared, he and his sons both bowed in the princess’ presence. “Daughter of the Regent! Your Highness, why are you here? You have a child! I am in your service.” Lindisfjarn said. “Yes, Lindisfjarn, and you could be of great service now.” Erewan said “No, I am just fine. The trip is getting me used to travel.” The elven princess said. “May I be of some assistance?” The elven warrior asked. “You may, I have a message that must get to my father. Can you deliver it?” Erewan asked. “My Lady, I am your servant.” Lindisfjarn said. Xarno interceded. “Boldar, take the boys out of camp for a moment, would you?” Boldar did as ordered, and took the two boys to the clearing where they originally met. “We must maintain secrecy, my friend. Your sons could be in danger if it got out that they knew what we are about to tell you.” Xarno said. “The message?” The elven warrior asked. Erewan stepped forward, and held her son out to Lindisfjarn. “Please tell my father he is a grandfather, and that his grandsons’ name is Quillan. We are en route to Shadowdale, and parts beyond to the west in the Lost Dale. We will send word upon arrival in Shadowdale.” She said. “Yes my princess. I will get word to the Regent immediately.” Lindisfjarn said, and turned to Kjellinger and Xarno. “Do you need another sword arm?” He asked. Xarno took Lindisfjarn by the left elbow, and said. “If you can get away, we will wait here for another day. Leave your sons at home with their mother. I can always use an elven Ranger. We will speak further of this when you return.” Xarno said. *** *** *** *** *** The elven ranger took his sons and went home by the way he crossed the river in a different location. His sons asked him many questions, but he just put them off. They were disappointed that they would not get the opportunity to camp in the woods, but their father made more promises about more spectacular things. Lindisfjarn’s wife, Litheen on the other hand was a different matter. He had worked for this time off, and now he was going to help some friends. When the elven warrior mentioned Xarno, Garntay, Dinnel, and Kjellinger she was even more upset knowing that the four adventurers had been involved with Thenedain, either causing problems, or solving them. The elven warrior spoke to Litheen at length about what occurred, and asked her to keep the boys quiet about what they had seen. She and Erewan had been friends for many years. If Erewan needed help, Lindisfjarn was the elf to help her. Lindisfjarn went to the Regent, and spoke of Erewan’s dilemma, he also mentioned that they would attempt to make contact when they arrive in Shadowdale. Lindisfjarn also asked to be excused from duties to help Xarno, and his company escort the Regents daughter to wherever they were going. The Regent willingly gave Lindisfjarn his blessing. The elven warrior went home, and packed up his equipment, said good-byes to his sons, and kissed wife, and children. Then he was on his way. Not knowing what to take. The elven ranger took a large bag of elven wine, an extra change of clothes, and some food for twenty days. Lindisfjarn took his weapons, which included his composite long bow, two quivers of arrows, his long sword, several daggers, and his shield. If that were not enough, he would have to live off the land. *** *** *** *** *** Xarno was getting nervous. The party was wasting a day waiting for Lindisfjarn. They were a good distance from Cormanthyr, and Lindisfjarn would be hard pressed to make the rendezvous. Toril’s sun was almost directly overhead, and the boat had already been loaded. Kjellinger was pacing up and down the beach. The elven ranger and Kjellinger’ friendship had gone back many years, creating a solid friendship. An alliance and friendship Thenedain had used to his advantage, when securing trade rights into the elven lands with the Regent of Cormanthyr. That is how Erewan and Thenedain had met. A magpie sounded in the north, and then a cascade of jay calls followed. Kjellinger responded with a crow, and then a raven’s call. The magpie call was repeated, and then Lindisfjarn stepped clear of the trees. Smiles were everywhere as Lindisfjarn removed his pack, and placed it with the other’s equipment aboard the outrigger. “Shall we get started?” The elven warrior asked . “Argh! Times a wastin’.” Boldar said. The reformed party boarded the boat, and cast off. They continued their trek down the stream with smiles. They came to the portage earlier than expected. Fortunately no one was there to greet them at the haul out. They removed all their gear from the boat, and pulled the faering clear of the water. This was a common haul out for those portaging up and downstream. A fire ring was already in existence, and logs and stones lay about the ring as seats. A good supply of wood had been cut, and was at the ready. Dinnel, Kjellinger, and Lindisfjarn went to secure a perimeter, and returned shortly. “We are alone, and I have seen no fresh tracks earlier than three days.” Lindisfjarn said to Xarno. “Good, let us look like travelers, and act normal. A tent for Erewan and Quillan, yourselves and Boldar: Garntay and I will have a tent of our own. Act normal, just do not trust any strangers.” Xarno said. The four warriors began constructing the camping site by laying out the tents, and erecting them one by one. Boldar tossed in the bedding and packs for each member of the party in their respective tents. Erewan helped Garntay with the campfire preparation, and the meal. Xarno surveyed the surrounding area. “So how long do you think it will take us to portage below the confluence?” The mage asked Dinnel as the warrior priest helped his comrades construct the campsite. “Oh I would say about a day to walk down the hill with all our gear, and the boat. Fortunately it is a faering. The outriggers give everyone a fine hand hold.” Dinnel answered. They all rested well in camp that night, and woke early the next morning. After a quick meal of jerked beef and dried fruit, the party removed their equipment, and donned their packs. The faering was then lifted in unison, and carried the length of the trail down the portage trail to the river Ashaba. As a waterway, the Ashaba River was the largest river in the central portion of the realms. The party had to be careful because of the slick moss on the trail from the water sprayed by the falls at the confluence of the Glaemril and the Ashaba. After several stops for rest, the party reached the bottom of the trail, and the river Ashaba. It was late in the afternoon, and everyone was too tired to go on after the portage. A site not too distant from the confluence was chosen, and they pitched their tents and rested. After the party had rested, they prepared for the trail again. The easy part was behind them danger was in front of them. This was where the party could have many problems. So ends the first installment of the Lost Vale. |