~ The Quest for the Ring of Fire Command: [Home] [Previous Turn] [Next Turn] ~

Elloharin spends his days poking unobtrusively through the laboratory. When Halbredan calls he runs. It is not in his nature to respond to the every beck and call of an old human, but El feels his profession demands a certain reverence. He is careful to show the utmost respect to the old wizard. He even helps the wizard's wife with her chores as Halbredan is too tired to move at the end of the day. The deep circles under his eyes begin to dissipate from the rest he's been getting. His mind is occupied and he feels happy to be in a place of such knowledge.

Since Crayne offered the Gem of Seeing to him, he has not been able to meet the mage's eyes. This is the first time the mage has recognized him as a fellow spell caster and El is overwhelmed by it. In all honesty he's not sure he wants the responsibility of holding the Gem of Seeing. But in combat situations where the party is in danger, Crayne would probably not have time to use the gem at all. So if the gem is given Elloharin, he surmises, he will take it--although reluctantly. In his spare moments he will take the gem out of his pack and stare at it--trying to divine its secrets. He will clear his mind, he imagines, as he does when he prepares a spell, and look deep within the gem, hoping to see something. He imagines peering into the gen and picturing what the Ring of Fire Command might look like.

One day, while helping the old wizard to his pallet, he asks him, softly, so as not to disturb his exhausted mind, "Old Halbredan, may I ask a question of you? I have been trying to understand the mysteries of the gem you have placed in my care, but so far to little avail. Can you give me any suggestions? I do not want to fail the Six in this duty."

"Young elf," Old Halbredan replies, looking up toward El and smiling weakly, "I have told you all I know the gem. You must discern the rest, boy. For that is what magic is all about, discovery and learning. Now you have something to learn..."

El responds, "Thank you sir for all you have done. I have one more boon to ask of you. Though I do not have much money I am seeking a new spell to add to my collection, one that will certainly come in handy in our next adventure, and I wonder that if you have it in your library, I might copy it down on some parchment. The spell I am looking for will throw a gray haze before the eyes of any creature I choose, thus blinding him and rendering him helpless--I mean less dangerous." With that the elf breaks off--afraid of offending the wizard.

"The spell you seek," Halbredan replies slowly, "is, indeed, in my collection. I have not used it in quite some time, however..." His words trail off as he leans closer to the elf. "It is a dangerous spell, for if misused it could cause great pain. I will allow you to attempt to transcribe it. Should you be capable of correctly transcribing it, you may have the ability to cast it. But heed my warning, Elloharin the Dimmed!"

During the days when he is not needed by the old wizard and his wife, Elloharin spends his time in conversation with Crayne, Hannibal or Storm. He avoids Emma and Skandor. Alara he looks on with some distain, seeing in her a half-elf and a religiously inclined half-elf at that.

On one such occasion a day before the translation is complete, he asks: "Mage Crayne, what made you decide to pursue magic?"

El continues, "Have you ever studied any magic philosophy? You ever wondered where it comes from? Why it's here? How can the gods exist in a world where magic reigns supreme? I've seen you clash with the priestess--we all have-- what is the source of your doubt?"

Storm is rather quiet (considering his personality!) in Halbredan's household, except, of course, when his wife Marienna places another bowl of her delicious soup in front of him. Then he becomes as focused as Crayne memorizing one of his spells. At one occasion with a bowl of soup, Storm looks up to see Skandor having finished his soup in a quicker time than Storm! The dwarf is shocked. For a moment he just stares at the human across from him, astounded that a human could down some food faster than a dwarf! 'Thems comments be true I guess, thems humans can do lots o' things.'

"Well there, ye tall one, ye's got quite an appetite there!" His eyes narrow. "Ahh, but can ye hold as much as a dwarf? Ye's might be able ta beat me in the slurpin'--but not always, by da gods!--but just how deep be that gut o' yers? Ye think ye can hold more than a dwarf? Let's see what ye got! Hehehaha!!!" Storm keeps eating, quite quickly, matching Skandor bowl for bowl until the two of them can't eat any more.

Skandor accepts the dwarf's challenge, and even though he feels kind of silly doing it, he remembers playing such a 'game' with some of the boys in the temple when he was growing up. He starts slowing down on the third bowl though, as Storm eyes him from across the table. The dwarf grins that toothy grin, knowing that victory is sure to come as he watches the sword-bearer slow the pace. But Skandor goes on, trying to keep up as best he can.

At the completion of the third bowl--boy, it was sure nice to have some good food, finally--Skandor sets his spoon aside, places his napkin on the table, and leans back, holding his hands up as a show of defeat as he smiles towards the dwarf.

When they finally finish, Storm leans back and moans, resting a hand on his stomach. "Uuuhhhhh, that be a good--" his words are interrupted by a huge, loud belch, making everyone fall silent in the room. Storm looks around to everyone there, and then simply breaks out laughing, building into hysteria.

Upon hearing Storm's "Victory Belch", Skandor lets out a chuckle, too, and glances around at the rest of those gathered there, slightly blushing. It is all he can do to withhold his own loud belch, but he does so with trained etiquette.

The ride through the Merriam-area countryside was swift and uneventful, though to Skandor it felt like it took an eternity. He had left Halen immediately following the morning prayers with Emma. His mount was well-rested and packed for a small journey of three days, which was all the Sword Bearer expected to be gone. A small tinge of guilt panged him for leaving Emma behind...but the Sword Bearer was not needed right now. She was in the company of a powerful wizard, and besides, this needed to be taken care of.

He spurred his horse on even faster. The beast grunted from the sudden sharp heel in its flanks, but dashed on to a greater speed. Skandor was a masterful horseman, and knew how to best press a horse to its full potential without wearing it out too quickly.

Morning turned to noon, and noon into afternoon as he rode, the scenery around him remaining about the same. Into the late afternoon, covered in trail dust and sweat, he stood high in the saddle as he saw the first signs of Merriam ahead. He only paused a moment before he lowered back into the saddle and again urged his horse on. He rode around to the south of Merriam, avoiding the city completely. His destination was a bit to the south and west of the town. The ride past Lake Merriam a few days ago was like a river dam being broken and smashed, as a torrent of memories came rushing back to him.

Home.

Memories of his family, his childhood. How could he have ever forgotten? He hadn't, but he had pushed the more painful memories back into a dark, secluded place. And now, seeing the lake that he had visited with his family as a child only brought those memories out into the open again, almost as though he could see the ghosts walking about...

Nightfall. The sky was still clear, and a large, almost-full moon helped to illuminate his path. He slowed his horse down to a walk, patting it heavily with a mailed-gauntleted hand on the back of the neck. The horse had held up well. It was lathered in sweat, and would need to rest for quite some time, and eat. He came to an area, a small orchard, which washed over his mind like a wave...he was very close now, very, very close. He continued westward, the only sounds coming from crickets as they chirped their mating calls back and forth, and his horse's clip-clop, clip-clop as it walked slowly on.

Soon, in a field before him, he saw his destination.

What remained of the house was little, and small. No part of the structure was taller than the paladin. The barn was completely gone, as was the livestock fence. Skandor brought his horse to a halt in front of the old ruin. He sat there for long minutes, maybe even an hour, fighting the fears, the memories, the urge to turn and leave. But this was something he knew he must do. With a loud jangle of chain mail, the man dismounted his horse. He ignored the tightness in his backside from a full day's ride with no rest. He tethered his horse to the old, worn hitching post, and looked around.

What was left of his childhood home looked just as it had when he was a boy. How long had it been? Fourteen years? It felt longer, but the sights he could see, even in the poorly-lit conditions, were as he remembered them. The grass was so much taller, easily knee-high on the paladin. A large area of land to the west of the house still had patches of dirt showing through, where his family would plant crops and such. Skandor faintly smiled, remembering how he and his father would toil for hours each day removing weeds, reinforcing row upon row of corn and potatoes.

A soft breeze picked up, sending a chill up Skandor's spine. Looking towards the west, he could see the first vestiges of clouds on the horizon. Perhaps it would rain on the morrow, perhaps not. Yawning suddenly, Skandor stretched. The toll of the road was quickly catching up to him. He went to his horse and untied his bedroll. He stretched it out on the ground under the clear sky, and prepared for sleep. Part of him longed to enter his old house, but he would save that for the morning. For now, he rested on his back, under a wool blanket, staring up into the sky. He looked up at the stars, much like he had when lying in bed as a child, looking out and up through the window in his room.

"Each star," Skandor was told in the church of Anhur, "is a brave follower of Anhur, doing battle in the black of night, the Nether Regions. On some nights, you can see millions of them, as the forces of Anhur gain the upper hand...on other nights, it is so hard to see many of them, and it is on those nights that the forces of Anhur are sorely pressed. But each night, the battle renews..."

Skandor stared up into the sky that night, at the millions of his brethern fighting above him, and smiled as he eventually fell asleep.

Near sunrise, the paladin's eyes fluttered open and he sat up. The air was a bit cooler than the previous day, and sure enough, clouds covered most of the sky. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Skandor yawned and stood, and looked around at his surroundings. With the first rays of sunlight, he could now better see the old homestead, and he caught his breath.

The remnants of the house were weathered and worn from exposure to the elements. It was a rather lucky thing that this much of the house remained. There were burn marks and black scorches over the whole structure, and Skandor believed he could still even smell the aroma of burnt wood. Perhaps he was imagining that part, though. He rose, donning his armor. He reached for his weapon then paused...he shouldn't need it here, he didn't think. He looked over to where his horse was and was glad to see it standing there, calm and peaceful.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly walked up to the porch, or what was left of it, which led into the front door of the ruin. Turning to look towards his left just as he was about to enter, he saw the remains of an old wooden rocking chair piled on the porch, mostly burnt away and rotted. He blinked several times, remembering many days where he would sit on his mother's, or his father's, lap as they rocked in a cool summer breeze, or watched a storm pass overhead.

The paladin turned his gaze back towards the entryway, and strode into the main living area. Dirt, ash, and dust covered everything. What wood parts that could be seen were black from the blaze that burned the place down, and those were now rotted and warped from years of exposure to rain and the sun. But the general layout was still there, the foundation strong.

To his left, he saw the remains of the steps that led up to the loft where his room was. The two bottom steps were all that remained. He smiled as he remembered the time he came flying down those steps when his father had announced from downstairs the arrival of Skandor's first puppy, Max. He remembered being so thrilled, he threw himself down the steps and slipped on the last one, falling hard to the floor and knocking out a tooth. He smiled now as he remembered crying for all of ten seconds, and the tears subsided and a smile surfaced as, with blood on his chin and his mother fussing over him, he held his new best-friend in his arms.

Skandor shook his head once, blinking. He turned his head towards the kitchen. He felt the first pangs of sadness pulling at his heart, and his eyes misted over involuntarily. Walking the few steps to where the kitchen was, he saw several lumps on the floor before the kitchen. Kneeling down, Skandor gently brushed away at the ash and dirt to reveal bones...his father's bones.

His mind reeled back to the night he lost his parents, his home...he remembered his father putting up the best fight that he could. But his father was slain, and for what reason? For a few measly coppers? A pair of horses? His father, to Skandor's knowledge, was but a simple man, not a warrior, and certainly not one tied up in the politics of the land. So why him? Why his house, his family?

A tear streaked down his face as he carefully started to collect what bones he could find. He strode to his backpack and collected two small burlap sacks. He opened one as he gently placed the bones of his long-dead father inside. Finding the skull, Skandor stared into the empty, dark sockets. With a free hand, he brushed away the dust and ash. He remembered how his father's eyes held such great wisdom...the paladin stared into the dark, empty sockets, trying to divine what his father might think of him now.

"I have come a long way, father," Skandor said aloud. "I would hope that you and mother...would be proud of me..." Skandor gently deposited the skull and the last of his father's bones into the sack. Picking it up gently, he made his way to the kitchen, and there in the center, on the floor, he saw the remnants of the table and the tell-tale signs of more bones...his mother.

He began to at first open the second bag to collect her bones, but then he started thinking...his parents always wanted to be together, so why separate them now, after all these years? Wiping at the wetness forming around his eyes, he set aside the second bag and began depositing his mother's bones inside the bag with his father's.

What he wouldn't give to speak to them, just one more time! Would it have been possible to have brought Emma, to summon their spirits for one last moment with them? No...that would have been frivolous. And most likely, his parents had been dead for far too long now.

Collecting the last of his mother's bones, he rose to his feet and looked around one more time. He could almost smell the burning wood again, he could still hear the echoing screams and sobs of his mother...he could still hear, as though they were happening again right then and there, the voices of the burglars.

Goril.

That name would stay with him forever, until the man was brought to justice. He could also feel, very slightly, the sensation of fear he felt that night, as he hid like a coward upstairs in his room. He hid, almost wetting himself, and listened as his mother and father were slain. He remembers the sensation of feeling paralyzed, and he was surprised to find himself standing there, all these years later, still paralyzed at the thought. Priests in the church would counsel him for years, telling him that there was nothing he could have done, that he too would have been slain, right next to his father and mother, if he had made his presence known to the bandits.

As Skandor looked around the decayed, abandoned ruin that was his home, he wondered...would he have been better off had that happened?

Setting his jaw, he walked out of the ruin and into the field just west of the house. Searching through knee-high weeds for a few moments, he found the large stone he had so lovingly carved a name into when he was a child.

"Max"

He began clearing a patch of ground next to this rock. After having hit soft dirt, he retrieved his tin plate from his mess-kit in his backpack and began using it to dig a shallow grave. Placing the sack of bones into the indention, he gently covered it up and packed it down tightly. As he stared at the freshly turned earth, and his eyes wandered over his pet's gravestone, the tears flowed freely then. For some reason, it was as if a slightly-cracked door had been shut, closed finally to cut off the draft of closure he had sought for so many years.

He rose and again wiped at his tear-streaked face with his dirty hands. Looking down at the grave, he bowed his head and spoke. "I ask that you, Anhur, allow these two souls into your Great Hall. Their journey there has been long and arduous. The delay of their arrival was only due to their negligent son, and I ask you for forgiveness in this dereliction of duty. I also ask my father and mother for forgiveness, not only for hiding and fleeing on the night of their death as a coward would, but for taking so long in returning here to put them to rest. I have been...afraid to do it, to face up to what happened. It is ironic that after all these years, only now am I finding...."

He paused, his tongue quickly licking his dried, quivering lips. "Courage...."

Taking in a deep breath, and looking one more time to the grave-site, Skandor turned and headed towards his mount. By now it was late afternoon and the sky had grown dark and cloudy, much like the paladin's mood. He did not ride far before the rain began to fall, but still, he rode on.

And the rain hid the tears of a grown, weeping man.

Early into the week of translation, Storm approaches Alara and Canter. "Hey ye leatherin' types. How be me armor comin'? I could be using that back when ye done, I ain't to good fer sneakin' around in this clanky stuff." He smacks his hand off his chain mail, causing the familiar rattling sound of moving chain links. "Oh, and be sure ta let me know if I be needin' to get me a new one." Storm doesn't mention anything about payment for the fixing of his armor, though he knows he would gladly cover the costs.

"Yeah, Storm," Canter replies, looking toward Alara, whom he had been instructing. "This piece here makes for a good demonstration, but it isn't going to make for good armor anymore. I'm sorry, but it's just worn too thin. Then again, better to have worn the armor thin than you skin, right?!"

With a hearty laugh, Storm sets off to the armorer to purchase another suit of leather armor. His other time during the translating week is spent wandering around the town, inspecting the alleyways and more shady looking pubs at night. Every day he makes sure to get some good exercise and let his blood pump a little. A few times he leaves the borders of the town (never unarmed, of course, and he doesn't go too far) to jog several miles around the landscape (perhaps how he works off all that food he eats!). He also walks around with Hannibal through the town whenever the other thief does so.

Now having finished her work, Emma wipes at her eyes, blinking in the brighter light of the fireplace. Skandor himself seems to be much more relaxed since his return. Each day, he rises with Emma to recite the morning prayers, and to get a quick and brief description from Emma of the progress being made. He smiles each time she speaks of it, for he can sense a feeling of 'usefulness' in her tone that enhances her own self value and esteem. She obviously was growing strained of being relied upon only for healing and such, while now her scholarly background is coming to the front. Simply put: she is being allowed to shine in other areas other than the religious ones.

Skandor offers what encouragement and praise he can wherever possible. He can see the tedium start to mount after several days, and he fears that it will only get worse. But aside from seeing to it that she receives proper food and drink at all times, he offers whatever support he can.

While Emma is tucked away in Halbredan's study, Skandor feels confident that she is well-protected. The wizard gave subtle impressions that he was more powerful than he let on. In fact, the old man was probably better able to protect the shield maiden than Skandor himself! So while she worked, so did the Sword Bearer. He first sets about collecting gear that he thinks will be needed for the road ahead. Adventuring gear, dungeon gear, normal gear, etc. Sure, his horse might be well-packed, but certain provisions would simply be required, no matter where they went. Skandor also offers to help the rest of the group, taking some time each day to visit with each of them to see if they are needing his assistance.

When not aiding Emma or his companions, Skandor travels about the town, offering a free set of strong arms and hands to anyone who might need them. Even when some of the things he is asked to do are dirty and filthy, still, he does not hesitate. He wears his tabard openly and proudly, and if asked about his religion, he offers his own advice and guidance where possible. Each night, when he heads back to his resting place, he simply cleans his armor and clothing to an immaculate level, as he was trained for years to do.

Alara spends many of the days out in town, having found work at other small jobs. By the end of the week she has accumulated a small hunk of change, which she proudly takes to the armorer and uses to pay for a suit of chain mail.

Finally, the tome is translated, and the group meets to discuss it. Emma, looking tired yet somehow satisfied, speaks her mind on the facts she has deciphered. She's both physically and mentally tired. But deeper inside, there's a renewal of energy. She convinces herself that this task was completed on her own merit. No Anhurian doctrine or blessings could have accomplished what her hard work and focused concentration had achieved in the past several days. Quite simply, she is proud of herself.

Once she has completed telling the story of the Ring of Fire Command as related by the tome, Emma pauses for reactions from the rest of Rinder's Six and Halbredan. Ten days worth of translation has boiled down to this: no definitive direction, just lots of possibilities. In some ways, Emma is frustrated by that, but she understands many things are wrapped in mystery and can just take longer to dig out the truth. She's convinced they'll find the ring before the Red Dragon renegades, but it will take more hard work on the road ahead.

"If we search for Vohnungt's castle," Emma begins, "We know it lies upon an island. I couldn't find any specific reference in the book as to where the castle lay in relation to the battlefield. Damacht and Vohnungt's forces appear to have clashed somewhere in the Rinder Lowlands or Northern Caerloon...not all that far from where our travels took us before. Isn't it ironic that we may have been that close to the Ring of Fire Command and not even realized it?

"If we want to start a systematic search of the known islands, we should probably start here in Rinder and then work our way toward the Caerloon border and then further south as necessary," she suggests, "That approach would be slow and tedious...but sometimes that's what it takes to win the race.

"Another approach would be to seek out information about this priest of Hathe," she continues, "The man that scribed this book was probably known in El-Balans, itself. If we could find that ancient temple and ask the Hatheans about the path he might have taken to research Vohnungt and the rings, it would point us in a more clear direction...saving us the time and effort of searching every island between here and Caerloon.

"Lastly, I see at least one more course of action open to us," Emma finishes, "We could pick up the same trail that the priest of Hathe discovered so long ago. By doing our own research in Rinder's libraries...and perhaps even the Great Library in Seden, itself...we might learn the exact location of Vohnungt's castle. All it would take is a thorough search for certain key words and phrases...Vohnungt, Damacht, a war involving nine dragons that were promised a piece of the land by an ancient wizard, the magical effects of the Rings of Earth, Water, and Air Command.

"Regardless of which option we choose," Emma says, "We'll need to be aware that we're not the only ones looking. The Red Dragon renegades have already been pursuing Karelth for the Ring of Water Command. Surely, they've also begun to investigate the histories for references to Vohnungt and Damacht. Both are bound to be names that are familiar to the Red Dragon School. In fact, they might be at least a little familiar to many of the more powerful wizards...perhaps even Dire Luthor, himself. We might be well-served to visit our old friend if we journey close to the Caerloon border again. He might lend some insight in our quest, too.

"Something that's been on my mind lately is the possibility that the Red Dragon renegades may have broken from their School because of these rings," Emma mentions, "Some of the more eager and power-hungry wizards may have learned of the rings and wanted to reclaim them in order to...to...well, to dominate the region, no doubt. The more level-headed wizards might have opposed them, especially because of the divine warnings about merging all four rings together. Thus, the break occurred within their ranks which Dire Luthor was so reluctant to go into detail about with us...

"If the Red Dragon renegades did separate from the School for such a reason," the priestess continues her line of thinking, "This might explain their alliance with the Caerloon forces across the border. They may very well be using Caerloon to sweep into Rinder so they can seize certain sections of land...particularly those sections close to the border where Vohnungt and Damacht once waged their wizardly war. By doing so, they'll have free reign to search for the rings in that region.

"Such a strategy might win them the Rings of Earth and Air Command," Emma states, "But we know the Ring of Water Command is in our possession. And, it would appear that the Ring of Fire Command is also out of their reach for now...presumably in Vohnungt's castle...wherever that may lie. It could even be in Jeroldham Castle or in the capitol of Merriam itself. To reach that place, the renegades would need Caerloon to defeat Rinder utterly. Once the region was under one flag, I'm sure the wizards' search would go uninterrupted...and probably behind the backs of their allies. For once the renegades possessed the rings, they would have nothing to fear from Caerloon's legions. Vohnungt alone was able to combine their powers to defeat Damacht's ground forces. We need to stop these wizards once and for all, before they ruin our entire world."

Finally, Emma winds down and takes a seat, clutching the Book of El-Balans upon her lap. She awaits the discussion that she knows will soon unfold. And she's ready to lend her own voice to the debate for which route their quest will take.

"Emma, I must say that I am proud to call you a priestess of Anhur and sister, after your hard work and diligence in deciphering the tome. And many thanks to Sir Halbredan, for his magic and effort, as well," Skandor states confidently. "While the tome does give us many great details and descriptions, the location, or even a guess as to the location of the Ring of Fire Command is elusive and vague. There is no telling which castle this ring might rest in now. Is it a castle inhabited to this day? Is it a ruin? Or, does the castle even remain? Perhaps the victor in that epic battle destroyed the loser's keep? Who is to say? The legend states that the castle was on an island, centuries ago... what if it's not even an island now? The sands of time flow like water, and so does the land over great periods of time. What if that island is below the water somewhere now? Or what if the water around the island has receded, and there remains no island now?

"My advice would be to head for El-Balans, so that we might gain some information as to finding a more precise location to begin our search. There is no guarantee that we would find such information, but I believe it is well worth the attempt, since beginning our search blindly will most likely take us months to find that which we seek."

Crayne nods in agreement at the last suggestion, "I think our first step would be to get a decent map so we can pin point all these islands. Perhaps we can visit Halen's library or one of its temples and see if we can get a scribe to do us a copy. I fear it will not be cheap though!" Crayne warns.

"I have some talent at sketching," Emma supplies, "Perhaps if I could spend some time with such a map, I could transcribe it for us without having to pay such a large sum? I used to do things like that when I was in Seden. More often, I just drew portraits for some of the visitors to the library to supplement my income. But I've also redrawn images and illuminations for various texts within our library. I'm not a cartographer, mind you. But as long as I had something to copy from, I could probably do a fair enough job."

Alara nods in agreement with both Emma and Crayne. "I agree," she says nodding towards Emma. "If we can uncover anymore of the ring's history it can only help us to locate it."

Crayne then turns to Emma, "Also, in terms of locating the island and the castle where the ring lies is there no way that you can gain insight by using a divination with your god? Any sort of clue would do us good for at the moment we have very little to go on."

Emma's eyes narrow for a moment. It seemed out of character to her for Crayne to ask for such direction now. Was he doing so because he was so eager to obtain the ring? Or had he somehow become more accepting of Anhur's guidance lately? That last part seemed unlikely. And, though she had always offered to perform divinations on the party's behalf before, this was the first time anyone had clearly asked for it without her suggesting it.

"I'll do what I can," Emma nods with a wary expression on her face and a guarded tone in her voice, "But it will take some time to prepare such an augury. I'll let you know when I'm ready..."

Crayne continues: "Also, another point which did cross my mind was that the text mentioned that the rings grow in power when they are united. Do you think perhaps that the rings could be linked in any manner? Do you think it possible that we could use the Ring of Water Command to lead us to the Ring of Fire Command? A slim chance I know but isn't it a possibility? Also, Emma is there nothing in the book which could assist me in controlling these rings?"

"I'm afraid this book is written specifically for the Ring of Fire Command," Emma explains, "One text was compiled for each of them. And, it appears that this one doesn't even give any information on how to control its ring, much less the one you and your uncle possess. Tracking one ring by using another sounds interesting, though," she continues, "But only you and Karelth would have the means to unravel that mystery..."

El smiles inwardly when he hears them decide to seek the trail of the priest of Hathe. 'Isn't that what I said we should do? Go to El-Balans? Ha! Oh well, I probably shouldn't say anything.' Throughout the ensuing discussion El keeps his own counsel. While going to El-Balans has appeal to him, going on an island touring trip also has some vogue to it. Suddenly a thought occurs to him.

"Why not go to the Academy? Their library is probably the most qualified to contain information of this sort. Of course, we would have to be discreet about it. If they knew we had a clue toward the Ring of Fire Command, they would probably rend us limb from limb to get to it." He has a small smile on his face at his own jest. He is only half serious with his suggestion.

"It's a good thing you're joking," Hannibal replies, looking askance to Elloharin. "Walking in there is like asking for a guided tour of the Nine Hells! I would want to stay as far away from that place as possible unless we absolutely have to go. No offense, Crayne," the thief looks to the mage and nods.

"None taken!" Crayne replies. "Very well then! We will attempt to get a map in the morning, either by Emma's hand or with coin. After that, it is off to El-Balans. And let us hope that the Hathean monastery still stands!"

The next day a trip is made to the local temple, a Temple of Geb. After a brief explanation, Emma manages to gain permission to access the limited library the temple has to offer. With a cleric of Geb looking over her shoulder the whole time, Emma sets to work for a few hours transcribing the map as best she can. The library's copy is in places blurred, and is incomplete. In the end, Emma finishes with less than a full map, but it is more than they had before, and in the end she is pleased with her efforts.

Her next task, then, is to cast an Augury in an attempt to gain a modicum of wisdom from Anhur regarding their current quest. After finding a quiet spot in the Temple's sanctuary, Emma begins the prayer. Though at times her mind wanders a bit, she always reels it back, and soon arrives at her question: "If we venture south from our current position, will we be more successful in finding the Ring of Fire Command than if we go north?" she asks quietly.

There is a pause before the now familiar voice echoes inside her mind. "Yes," it replies. There, at least they had an idea of which direction to go in, and perhaps which set of islands were likely to contain Vohnungt's castle. And so Emma smiles, knowing that they had chosen the right path all along. It does occur to her that perhaps the castle itself is not to the south, but that the next clue on their journey lies to the south. But even this possibility is progress for the group. After all, El-Balans is to the south!

That afternoon, as all are gathered in Halbredan's home, Uncle Karelth clears his throat to speak. "Crayne," he begins, his voice quickly silencing the whole room, "I will not be venturing with you to El-Balans."

"What?" Crayne replies, his jaw dropping.

"Oh come now, Crayne, you know I cannot keep up with you young ones on your adventure! And besides," he continues, stepping closer to Crayne and placing a hand on his shoulder, "I will stay here in Halen with Halbredan and Marienna. I have no home now, Crayne, those Red Dragon Mages burnt it to the ground. This will be my home, now. Halbredan is weak and I will be helpful here, needed, wanted, and cared for, myself."

After a long pause, Crayne responds, simply saying, "Allright, then, uncle. If this is what you want."

"Yes, it is," Karelth says, "and I want one more thing." He reaches into his pocket, retrieving the a small shiny object: The Ring of Water Command. "I know you didn't enjoy using it the first time. But if they find me again I'm afraid I won't survive the battle. If they find you, they must deal with your growing power, and the power of your friends, here. And they are good friends. I beg you, Crayne, take the ring."

With a tear in his eye, Crayne reaches slowly for the Ring of Water Command, and takes it from his uncle. Then, after looking at the artifact for some time, he looks up at Karelth again, and weakly smiles.

The following morning the party (Canter, Alara, Crayne, El, Emma, Hannibal, Skandor, and Storm) sets off for El-Balans. Based on what they know, El-Balans, an ancient and secluded monastery for priests of the Caste of Hathe, is located in the south-western corner of the kingdom, near the Caerloon border and the Endless Desert. The ride will be considerable; first they will need to ride along the main road west toward Merriam, then south to Nesor, then south-west and into the Duchy of Welten. In total, a three- to four-day journey.

The first day's travel is very pleasant, with partly cloudy skies overhead. But the breeze is not as strong as the past couple of days, making riding seem a little less chilly. By mid-afternoon Merriam is in sight, and by nightfall they have turned southward along the main road, on which they make camp. It is about two hours after sunset, and the fire is fully lit with game on spickets roasting, when the tell-tale sound of marching can first be heard.

Storm is actually the first to notice, his head perking up from his dagger-assisted fingernail picking. "I be hearin' somethin'. Like an army er somthin'."

A moment later Emma concurs. "I hear it too. Let us ready ourselves; I doubt they're hostile, but we shouldn't be caught unawares! It's coming from that way..." she points to the north, from the direction of Merriam.

Soon the lantern-light can be seen just north of their position on the road, and the men marching in military formation--five across and countless rows deep--can be seen.

"Someone should speak to them," Alara says quietly, "find out what's going on. At least let them know we're here so we don't surprise them!"

"I'll do it," Canter replies, grabbing his crossbow and sword and stepping out onto the road. "What ho!" he calls out loudly, his voice echoing through the chilly winter's night.

"Company, halt!" a voice replies from the darkness. Then a horses hooves are heard as a mounted officer approaches. "And you might you be?" he demands.

"I am Canter Tarp of Rinder's Six, sir. May I ask the same of you?"

"Captain Captain Parst of the Fifth Infantry, in service to Duke David II of the Great House of Archadia, and the throne of Rinder," the mounted officer replies proudly. His voice is stern and deep, but not condescending. "Rinder's Six, eh? Were you the company responsible for the incident a few weeks ago in Seden?"

"That we were, Captain," Canter replies, smiling.

"Fine work, I say, Mister Tarp. You and your men should be comissioned for the kind of bravery I've heard was displayed in that affair. Say, my company will be setting camp about a mile south of here. I would like to invite you and your company to my personal tent later this evening, if you'll join my officers and I?"

1. Purchases in Halen:

EMMA: Chainmail repaired (25gp), small shield with family crest (7gp), barbed spear (7gp), rations (2wks) (14gp), waterskin (8sp), woolen tunic (9sp), heavy breeches (2gp), fur cloak (3gp), hammer (5sp), shovel (5sp). Total purchase: 54gp, 7sp.

CRAYNE: herbs for poitions (sleeping, stinging, poison, healing) (21gp), rations (2wks) (14gp), 5 candles (5cp), 1 vial ink (2sp), flint & steel (5sp), 20 darts (10gp), 3 belt pouches for herbs (2gp + 1sp). Total purchase: 47gp, 8sp, 5cp.

Note: Crayne also made 1 sleeping potion, 1 stinging potion, 1 vial of poison, and 1 healing potion. In addition, he has memorized the following spells: Magic Missile (1), Light (1), Color Spray (1), Charm Person (1), Invisibility (2), Mirror Image (2), Spectral Force (3).

ELLOHARIN: rations (1wk*) (7gp), hooded lantern (7gp), 3 flasks oil (1sp, 8cp), 5 sheets of parchment (5gp), grappling hook (8sp), 2 scroll cases (10gp). Total purchase: 29gp, 9sp, 8cp.

*Note: Elloharin's shopping list greatly exceeded his available funds! So I cut down his ration purhase, considering the fact that he still had some in his pack. Still he did not have enough, so it is assumed that he found some work for the week while in Halen to cover his expenses. However, this leaves Elloharin with 2gp, 3sp, 7cp in his pocket after shopping.

ALARA: Chainmail (75gp), rations (2wks) (14gp). Sold: Leather armor. As indicated, Alara found work during the week in Halen with her leather skills and arrow-making skills in order to pay for her purchases. At the end of the week, after her purchases, she has 3gp, 6sp, 2cp in her pocket.

STORM: Gloves (3gp), cap (3sp), heavy tunic (9sp), heavy breeches (2gp), 18 quarrels (bringing his total to two quiver's-worth, 72) (1gp 8 sp), Thief's toolkit (30gp), heavy blanket (3gp), crampons for boots (4gp), clawed gloves (3gp), weaponblack (1gp), veggies for Marienna (3sp), leather armor (6gp). Total purchase: 55gp, 3sp.

HANNIBAL: Gloves (3gp), 50' hemp rope (1gp), grappling hook (8sp), rations (2wks) (14gp), 2 flasks oil (1sp, 2cp). Total purchases: 18gp, 9sp, 2cp.

CANTER: Heavy tunic (9sp), heavy cloak (7sp), rations (2wks) (14gp), hooded lantern (7gp), 2 flasks oil (1sp 2cp), gloves (3gp). Total purchase: 25gp, 7sp, 2cp.

SKANDOR: 2 wool tunics (1gp, 8sp), 2 wool breeches (4gp), warm cloak (3gp), warm boots (9sp), heavy blanket (3gp). Total purchase: 12gp, 7sp.

Other notes:

2. Elloharin may add "Blindness" (2nd level spell) to his spellbook.

3. The limited map of Caerloon Emma sketched is available on this web site: use this link.

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