One by one you all step through the gate, which unceremoniously launches you into the air towards the south with a sickening lurch. You see the island grow further away, the others behind or in front of you on the same long, long arc up. There is savannah under you, full of animals, then dense jungle cut by rivers and punctured by the occasional high hill. North, in the other direction, you notice a mountain rising from the savannah, dark against the horizon, receding, with storms on its crown.
You slowly begin to fall, even as you continue to plummet forwards. You see beach approaching to the south, much wider than where you landed on this island. And a port, a big port, a garrison town a wharf, cargo ships, smaller craft, buildings, and the filthy smoky haze hanging over it that says civilization.
You are falling faster, faster. You see a pool ahead of you, made of the same ancient stones, and briefly glimpse an arch on the side you're coming from, pointing back the way you came. There are two other arches pointing off at angles towards other parts of the island, and another arch on the far, south side pointing out to sea.
Moving so fast should crush you like a bug against the water, which should be harder than stone at this blinding speed. But it isn't. Even your belongings are intact, although soaked. Twix sputters and flails his way to the shore, while Dane swims there in irritatingly long, elegant strokes. Bombouar wrings out his clothes, muttering "sweet bride of Fcuk, soaked again...". Heflam is grinning ear to ear.
Gepetto looks at Heflam. "What are you so happy about?"
Heflam gestures towards the arch. "That was GREAT! Let's do it again."
Dane squints at the arches as he wrings out his clothes. "I don't think we can. The lines of force look different, like the arches are barred. I think we have to do what we came here for before we can use them again."
Gepetto grunts, "Huh. Well, we'll get our chance in a hurry. You idiots probably missed it, but we overflew a guard tower on our way in, less than a mile from this little swimming pool. They're probably on their way here right now."
Heflam quits smiling.
You're on the edge of a beautiful deep blue pool edged with overgrown ancient stones, with three arches pointing towards the island and one pointed out to sea. There's a mile of jungle between you and the beach directly to the south. The Imperial port lies to the southeast a few miles, based on what you saw flying in. The Imperials are probably on their way. The jungle is sparse enough to allow travel, but there are no actual paths, and it looks like nobody's been to this pool in centuries.
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Dane
"Options," I say.
"Huh?" says Bombor.
"What are our options?", I repeat, "For instance, one option would be to stand here and wait for the Imperials to arrive. This idea has the benefit of simplicity but at the cost of our lives.”
“Are you nuts?” says Gepetto, “Follow me!”
With that, he begins to walk into the jungle. Some of the more delicate lines of force from the rest of us orient, tentatively, on Geppetto. Twix shrugs, his force lines orient more firmly on Geppetto, and he follows into the jungle. The rest of us sigh and begin walking. I begin to suspect Geppetto's primary enemy is inactivity.
As we clamber through the brush, Bombor swats at a mosquito and says, "We could ambush them. I mean, a few at a time."
"All those souls," says Twix somewhat absently, "I think we should talk to them. Or maybe suck their blood."
We all stop for a moment and look at Twix, whose serene smile is somewhat spoiled by the new habit of licking his fangs. After a brief pause, start walking anew.
"I like Bombor's idea," begins Heflam, "but before we start..." Unfortunately, he can not finish this thought as our small party bursts into a clearing at the same time as four Imperial scouts.
Geppetto gives a shout of surprise and falls back to us, bringing his bow up and reaching over his shoulder for an arrow. Twix steps forward with his fangs bared, but then checks himself, closes his eyes to slits and begins to chant. Bombor lifts his mace and tightens it's lanyard around his wrist.. Heflam begins to move left from the group, fingering his new amulet. I grin at Heflam's encircling movement and slide to the right, preparing my obsidian blade.
Twix
I think I'm losing my mind. It's hard at times to distinguish the spots in front of my eyes with the glowing souls that stretch across the horizon.
The scouts are wearing helmets. I'm going to take one of those.
The scouts are lightly armed, and it's five against four. Still, their conditioning holds and one of them swiftly pulls out a bow. He's faster than Gepetto, but not faster than Chip. The dragon is little more than a blur before the bow is snapped kindling in the scouts hands.
The dragon is toying with him I think, but continue my incantation. Last night when I slept, Chip taught me a few rudimentary incantations, things that hadn't been in that worthless spell book I had poured over back home. Even so, my chanting is only designed to buy us a little time by disorienting the foe. The longer I chant, the more acute their hearing becomes.
Another scout has pulled out a short sword and is approaching Dane. The scout looks tense, and I can tell that my spell is working on him. Bombor swings his made at his opponent, missing by a few inches, but Dane's opponent flinches and shies away, as if the blow had come close to him. No doubt, to his ears, it had.
Gepetto's shaft is through the first scout's breast now. So much for him.
Heflam is still fingering an amulet. Where did he get that from? Did he steal something from the chest after he got his tattoo? I'll need to keep an eye on him. None of the scouts seem interested in him though.
There were four scouts. Where's the fourth?
As Dane's sword slices into a scout, the scream sends Bombor's opponent writhing to the ground, clutching his ears.
In the jungle, I hear another shout of pain.
The fourth was off to report to the main force!
I stop chanting and try to focus on the orbs hovering about us. The spheres begin to take shape, but it's giving me a splitting headache. I reach out my hand and a soul races towards me.
Rabbit.
"With me!" I scream and am racing through the forest in pursuit of the fourth scout. Chip keeps pace, darting between the trees. I'm moving like the wind, my heart pounding like a jackhammer, but my breathing oddly easy. My eyes are sharp, and my ears are keen. The scout's footfalls sound like drumbeats in my ears. I add a spurt of speed as I see his heels. With a leap, I jump and land on the scout's back. I struggles for a moment, until Chip lands in front of his face, staring at him with smoke trailing from his nostrils.
It takes almost a minute before Dane catches up with me.
"What in the seven hells?"
I'm torn between a desire to drink the scout's blood and to run like hell. I take a deep breath and release the souls from me.
"This one," I say, "we question."
I catch up to Dane, Twix and the floundering guard that Twix managed to tackle?
“Is there a direction that any danger is coming from in the next 5 minutes?” I say, looking at my left hand expectantly. It doesn’t move. “Is danger coming from any direction in the next 30 minutes?” and my hand half heartedly lifts toward the direction of the tower. I think the ring thing is better with geographical direction rather then conceptual. “If my ring is not lying, we have about 30 minutes till more guards are on us.”
“Chip can have a look and tell us. And I trust him more then your dark ring” says Twix.
“Great… send him off. Until we hear from him, let’s assume we have 30 minutes to plan our next move. Let’s question this simpkin and then decide to let him live or kill him depending on how good his answers are.”
“Sidenote” interjects Heflam as he catches up to us followed closely by Bombor, “Bombor would like it known that he is Bombor… not BombUr or BombAr”.
“Thanks Hef” says Bombor, “but I think that can wait”.
“No, if I don’t say it I will forget. I have to mention it while it is on my mind”.
“I get that too sometimes” chimes in Dane, “You have to do or say the thing you were thinking of right away or you lose it”
“Yeah… you get distracted and then before you know it the Mrs. is yelling at you for this or that” the guard volunteers. “Happens to me all the time.” I’m shocked he has the balls to say anything since we have just killed 3 of his fellow guards.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about” says Heflam pointing to the guard.
I’m irritated, but I actually agree. That happens to me a lot too. “Bombar it is… fine. Can we get to the interro…”
“BOR” interjects Heflam.
“Bom-BOR, that’s what I said… now, the guard?”
“You said BAR.”
I stop and level a stare at Heflam.
“Fine… I said BAR, Hef-LAME I’m sorry, I don’t care right now.” Sweet Bride of Fcuk, Heflam has been a little pissant since he lost his matching handbag.
Just then, Chip returns after having been flying much higher up and bites Dane, who gives a piercing cry appropriate to a searing puncture into his much abused flesh.
“I can’t really t-t- talk to him” stammers Twix, “at least, not while I’m awake. Last time he had a look around, I told him to singe you if it wasn’t safe, and he did. Remember? In the cave? I think he is telling us it isn’t safe.”
Dane is dancing around holding his damage left buttock with both hands.
“Well that was really helpful, thanks a ton for you and the Gecko” I say. “Of course it isn’t safe. We are in unsafe territory and our lives are in constant peril. Your information is sooo valuable I don’t know what we would do without it!”
I guess Twix is getting used to the sarcasm, because he just grabs the helmet off the guard and places it on his head while I rant. “Oh…” Twix seems to remember, “and he told me before, in dreamland, that there is a curse on you that makes him want to attack you Dane… usually he is able to hold off, but it makes him feel really good to cause you pain. So I guess it could be that instead of ‘danger’”
Dane stops his wonky buttock dance and draws a deep breath: "THAT GODS-DAMNED GYPSY CURSE” he suddenly screams out and shakes his fist at the sky.
His uncharacteristic outburst takes us off guard. Stupidly, we all glance up at the direction Dane was shaking his fist. The guard takes this distraction opportunity to swing the rock he has apparently found on the ground square on the back of Twix’s head. The sturdy helmet keeps Twix from submitting to his beloved unconsciousness, but it does dislodge him from his perch on the guard who begins once again to sprint through the woods.
“I’ll get him this time” says Dane.
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