The Companions of Tartiël (21 page)

The cleric smiled gently, light crow’s feet forming at the corners of his eyes, as Wild approached. “May the forces of nature be gentle unto you, as well…” he glanced at Wild’s hand, now out of his pocket, “… Father…?”

Wild returned the smile and extended his hand. “Father Wild. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Father…”

“Orson,” the man replied, taking Wild’s hand and giving it a gentle shake.

“Father Orson,” Wild finished. “Well met. What brings a man such as yourself to move all the way out here to establish a temple in the middle of Vintiens?”

Orson released Wild’s hand and led him up to the altar, where he meticulously rearranged a wooden bowl of natural water and some sprigs of plants Wild did not recognize. “Oh, bringing some nature to those who don’t need it, I suppose,” he said wryly. “What brings another leader of our faith to these parts?”

“Oh, I’m just passing through on my way to here from there,” Wild chuckled. “I’m actually on my way to be stationed at the monastery outside of Viel, under the order of my bishop.” He turned around and looked out, over the few rows of small pews between here and the door.

Orson nodded. “I heard what happened to Father Cobain.”

“Did you, now?” Wild asked, distracted by the rest of the room. Something didn’t quite fit, but he couldn’t place it. “You should be careful, lest the same thing happens here. Cobain, apparently, was a werewolf and working with what seems to be a larger organization.”

“That… is grave news. How did you come upon that knowledge?” the real priest asked, shock written across his features.

“I’m not actually going to Viel,” Wild admitted seriously, looking over his shoulder at the taller man. “I’m coming
from
Viel. Cobain attacked me and my companions, and we were forced to defend against him when he… changed.” He breathed a sigh.

Orson inhaled thoughtfully. “Well. That is terrible news, indeed. Terrible…” Wild heard the rustle of robes behind him and knew he’d been had. “… for you.”

*

I pointed at Matt emphatically. “See? I told you you shouldn’t have told the ‘priest’ about our mission,” I gloated, though it was a pretty empty gloat, considering what happened next could compromise our party’s safety.

He nodded, defeated. “Well, you’ve got me there, but it’s too late. Mr. Dingo, what happens next?”

Dingo took up his d20 and dropped it onto his folding table. “Well, if you’re hit with a…”

*

Wild whirled around just in time to raise his arm up and partially deflect the small mace that came crashing down upon his head. Having been taken by surprise, his parry was not the most elegant, and “Father Orson’s” weapon still clocked him hard enough to stun him for a few moments.

“Now, that’s not fair,” the halfling muttered in his own language. Then, in Common, he snarled at the cleric as he backed away and drew a pair of daggers, “So, you’re in on it, too, huh?”

The cleric gave Wild a wolfish grin and advanced, swinging with his mace, but the man was apparently more conversational than combative at the moment. “You have no idea what you’re messing with, gnome. You stuck your nose where it didn’t belong, and now it’s got to be chopped off.” Gone was any semblance of serenity in the man’s voice.

“Oh, I’ve got enough of an idea,” Wild shot back petulantly. “It’s you who doesn’t know what you’re dealing with.” Ducking under a blow, he slashed with one dagger at the taller man’s weapon hand, knocking the mace farther to the side. The cleric brought the weapon to bear just in time to block an attack by the scowling Wild, and the two of them locked weapons.

To the side, a door opened, and both of them paused to glance over at who dared disturb their battle. An acolyte in off-white robes appeared, looked up, and opened his mouth in shock.

To Wild’s surprise, the cleric he was battling suddenly howled, his face contorting and even stretching, becoming more wolf-like. “Leave us,” he snarled at the acolyte before disengaging his mace from the halfling’s daggers and punching his opponent with enough force to send Wild staggering back a half-dozen steps.

Catching his breath, Wild stuck his tongue out at the creature before him, though his body did not mirror his eternal impishness. “Looks like the kid doesn’t know what’s on his master’s plate… or what plate his master’s been on,” the rogue commented blithely. As Orson advanced on him, Wild deftly spun his daggers in his hands and licked his lips. “You really don’t know what you’re dealing with.” Darting forward, he ducked underneath a powerful stroke of the mace, then dodged aside from the werewolf’s other claw. He tumbled around and stopped behind the creature as the acolyte stared on, motionless. As his daggers slid home deep into “Father Orson’s” heart and neck, Wild told him cheerfully, “I’m not a gnome, dimwit. I’m a halfling. Told you you didn’t know what you were dealing with.”

Orson crumpled to the floor, his form shivering as he transformed back into a human before departing the world to find his eternal punishment. Wild wiped his daggers off on the cleric’s cloak. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he said to the pale-faced acolyte.

“Wh-wh-what
was
that?” the young man stammered, staggering over to stand several paces away from the dead false priest, wringing his hands together. Wild chalked up the kid’s willingness to approach him to the fact that the halfling had, in fact, just defeated a terrible monster.

Wild almost responded, but he spotted something on Orson’s finger that distracted him from the question. Grinning, Wild pried the cleric’s ring from a limp finger and slipped it onto his own. Then he realized he had just been asked a question. “What? Er, a werewolf,” Wild replied distractedly, inspecting the ring; the acolyte didn’t seem to notice the theft. Pocketing the trinket, Wild looked up at the young acolyte. He reached up and patted the man’s elbow. “Well, congratulations. You’re the new priest around here. If I were you, I’d hightail it out of here before you take two more breaths.” He glanced down at the dead body of the “priest.” Something about the body bothered him, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Love to chat, but I gotta dash,” the halfling said cordially, slipping around past the stunned acolyte. Wild only hoped the young man could get out in time.

*

“So he came at me with his mouth open this wide,” Wild said, spreading his arms vertically and stretching them as far as they could go. “I pulled out my dagger, but the blade just bounced off his fur. When he pounced on me, I thought it was all over, but then I remembered a trick my old gran used to talk about, and I flipped a silver piece into his mouth, killing him instantly.”

Finished with his tale, Wild looked at Caineye and Kaiyr. The group had met for dinner after spending the day on the town, then had convened in Kaiyr’s room to discuss their suspicions about the town behind a locked door.

The two taller folk just stared at the halfling as he stopped talking. Vinto gave an unimpressed yawn. “You… don’t quite buy it, huh?” the halfling suggested.

Caineye shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. “I believed you until you tossed the coin in his mouth. Plus, none of it explains the bump on the back of your head.”

Wild sighed melodramatically. “All right. He was a wuss with a heavy stick. Got me in the back of the head once pretty good, then I stuck a knife in his gizzard. But apparently, he hadn’t indoctrinated the acolyte there. Poor kid was shaking in his boots.”

Kaiyr spoke, his voice quiet and somewhat accusing. “You are wearing a new ring.”

Wild scowled. “How astute of you, Blademaster.” Ignoring the steely glare the elf sent his way, the halfling turned back to Caineye. “How about you? Find out anything interesting?”

The druid nodded and patted Vinto’s head. The wolf’s tongue lolled out of his mouth for a few moments. “I asked around about the black dragon, but nobody here seems to know anything about it. So I asked around about other strange occurrences. Apparently, the people here are concerned about a—rather enormous—pack of wolves in the forest. They’ve been attacking the town, becoming more aggressive since the west wall was destroyed.”

“What destroyed the wall?” Kaiyr asked, folding his arms into his voluminous sleeves.

Caineye shook his head. “Didn’t say. I looked into it, and the rumors weren’t just rumors. Vinto and I both picked up the trails of many of these creatures.”

“But?” Kaiyr replied, hearing the note of an unfinished statement hanging in the air.

“They didn’t smell like wolves,” the druid replied with a frown. “Or, I should say, they didn’t smell
quite
like wolves.”

“Worgs?” Wild asked, and Caineye just shook his head again. “Dire wolves? Winter wolves?”

“No, they didn’t smell like that, either. They smelled… cleaner.”

“Say, I’ve got a clean joke for you….”

Caineye ignored the halfling and turned to Kaiyr. “What about you, Master Kaiyr? You arrived late to dinner.”

Kaiyr nodded. “Yes, I did. I apologize, but I discovered I had business at the far end of town. I asked a historian at the temple of Arvanos Sinterian whether he knew of the artifact I seek.” He paused and shifted uncomfortably with the weight of growing suspicion. “I was most dismayed to discover he knew naught of it. However, he did mention that a treasure hunter owns a house here. He supposedly left for a trip and has not been seen in three weeks.”

Wild frowned. “What’s the matter?”

Kaiyr’s already tenebrous eyes grew darker. “I walked to the described house. I did not go inside, but judging by its appearance… no one has been there in years.”

Wild’s brow furrowed, and his lips pursed into a lemon-pout. “I don’t like this. Something fishy’s going on here.”

“I agree,” replied the blademaster gravely. “It would seem that our encounter in Viel and the monastery there may be related to Wild’s discoveries here. I wonder how deeply the religion of Alduros Hol has been infiltrated by such imposters.”

Caineye’s fist slammed into his palm, drawing the others’ attention. Vinto whuffled once, annoyed. “Sorry,” he apologized a moment later, realizing the other two were staring at him.

“Righteous anger is not shameful.” Kaiyr told him gently. He inhaled sharply and then blew the air out in a quick, thoughtful sigh. “We should rest this night and continue our search on the morrow. It may not be wise for us to act independently. I suspect that we have already made enemies who will no doubt find and disturb us.”

Wild snorted. “Disturb us? That’s quite the understatement.”

A wry smile briefly made its way onto the elf’s features before he returned the conversation to the matter at hand. “What shall we do tomorrow? I shall admit that I desire to pursue the artifact that is the object of my original mission, the reason I left my village. But if either of you believes that another course of action would be wiser, I am willing to put my own agenda aside to pursue more important matters.”

The group mulled over Kaiyr’s words in silence for a few minutes, Caineye idly scratching Vinto’s head, Wild staring at a ring he turned about in his fingers. At length, the druid shook his head. “No, I think we should go after this artifact of yours….”

“The Helm of Ministriel,” Kaiyr offered with a bow of his head.

“This Helm of Ministriel,” Caineye went on. “I have no leads other than the scents of dozens, if not hundreds, of wolf-like creatures. We do not know what these creatures truly are, nor how dangerous they may be. Pursuing them may only serve to write our epitaphs for us.” He glanced at Wild. “I think you would agree, as well, Wild, that your business with the temple here is concluded. Investigating the place again is likely to only attract the townsfolk’s suspicion.”

Wild nodded his agreement. “I can see why that wouldn’t be such a good idea. Let’s go after this helm, then.”

“It is settled,” Kaiyr said, rising and opening the door for the others. “Let us take rest for now and reconvene in the tavern room after sunrise.”

They all bid each other a good night, and Caineye, with Vinto, and Wild went to their respective rooms as Kaiyr locked his door once again and settled down cross-legged, preparing his mind before falling into a deep meditation.

XVI.

“All is not right,” Kaiyr muttered in Caineye’s ear as they crouched with Vinto in the underbrush near the treasure hunter’s purported dwelling. Just across the way, Wild knelt before the front door, meticulously searching the portal for traps; it seemed as though he had found one and was now working out how to disable it.

Caineye nodded. “You said the man supposedly left, what, two weeks ago? Those boards are ancient—and what kind of elf builds or suffers built a place such as this?” He waved his hand dismissively, then looked over at the blademaster. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Kaiyr blinked solemnly in reply. “Indeed. These people give this place a wide berth. The town’s patrolmen come this way far less often than other areas. I know not what is more unsettling: that we may be walking into a trap, or that the trap may have already swallowed us.”

The druid shivered uncomfortably. “I suppose so. Still, I don’t like sitting here, just waiting for something to happen.”

At that moment, Wild must have figured out how to disarm the trap—through trial and, in particular, error. The magical device released with a loud
whoosh
, and a blast of fire engulfed him and the area around the door, scorching both halfling and ground before vanishing. Caineye gasped and started for his companion but was stopped by Kaiyr’s hand laid on his arm. The druid shot the elf a concerned look, but sure enough, Wild raised his arm a moment later, complete with a thumbs-up gesture, and both men in the bushes heard the halfling’s hoarse whisper of, “All clear.”

After administering to Wild’s wounds with a
cure light wounds
spell, the companions gingerly opened the surprisingly sturdy wooden door. Kaiyr led the way, but Wild stopped him with an outstretched hand. “Hold it, Blademaster. Even from here, I can see about six traps just waiting for you to step on them. Let me at least clear this end of the room first.” Kaiyr and Caineye said nothing and waited while Wild cleared space near the door. As soon as it was safe, the others filed inside, crowding together as they watched the halfling disarm tripwire after magical glyph. This time, he had notably more success than on the trapped door.