Kaitlyn's thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she caught sight of a distinctive sign swaying gently in the breeze. A newly-painted golden dragon glared down at passers-by in the street; below the dragon, painted in bright red letters, were the words 'The Dragon's Inn'. "Finally!" Kaitlyn muttered in relief, tucking the scrap of parchment into the magic bag that hung on her sword belt. Kaitlyn was already late for her appointment as it was; she hurried her steps until she stood in the inn's doorway.
The common room was crowded; evidently the Watch had just changed, and several off-duty guardsmen were well on their way to becoming roaring drunk. It looked as though a brawl was about to start between one of the guards and a would-be thief. Kait grimaced in disgust and made her way to an unoccupied table in the corner, where (she hoped) she would be left well enough alone.
Once Kaitlyn had reached the safety of the cool shadows and ordered a mug of ale she scanned the crowd for the person she was supposed to meet. When she saw no sign of him she looked a second time. The person was nowhere to be seen. Kait cursed softly in several languages and slouched in her seat with a scowl on her face. If her contact didn't show up soon she was definately going to leave. Never mind that there was probably no one else in the city who could tell her where to begin her search...
Hu-Su pondered the never ending responsibilities that increasingly landed upon his shoulders. He recalled that many years before he had similar feelings about the political intrigue at Court. How he had hated being a bodyguard to the nobles. But he had always enjoyed teaching the Samurai how to fight.
One day many years ago, a day he for which he had yet to avenge himself, he left all that behind. He had joined the monastic sect to get away from the political intrigue at court and to start a new life.
Now he found himself in charge of his own monastery that hosted artists from many different lands. This carried with it administrative duties that taxed even his considerable patience. The bright spot of his life was seeing the guests of his monastery accomplish spectacular works of art...
He noticed the new sign above the Dragons' Inn. At the same time he noticed a woman walking toward the Inn. Hu-Su was not too good with names, but having spent his life studying how the human, and not so human, body moves, he never forgot how a person walked.
He watched her enter the Inn. He was well past the Inn, given that he usually moved very quickly, when he recalled where he had seen her before. She had been a Mage of some note when she had stayed at his monastery. But this woman now wore a different face! Something was definitely strange here.
Curiosity getting the better of him, he went back to the Inn. He realized that this probably involved magic, something he really did not understand too well. But not understanding and not knowing how to deal with something were two different things entirely.
He spotted the woman in one of the many corners. He recalled that her name started with an R... Riandryl, that was it. He saw her intently studying a piece of paper. He approached her and said: "You remind me of someone I once knew, are you Ms. Riandryl?"
The man said: "You remind me of someone I once knew, are you Ms. Riandryl?"
Kaitlyn paused momentarily before answering. "Yes...I am Kaitlyn Riandryl," she said, her expression slightly suspicious. "But I'm afraid I'm not interested in any spell components or a visit to your monastery, Hu-Su," she said sharply. "I've given up on my study of magic for the time being." She hadn't meant to be quite so rude, but the monk's arrival brought back memories of a happier time--the time before Kait had become the failure that she now was...
Hu-Su was taken aback by the woman's manner. She said she was indeed Kaitlyn Riandryl, but this was not the happy young girl he remembered...
He recalled the young apprentice and her wizard teacher. How full of life Kaitlyn had once been! She had even tried learning martial arts with his apprentice monks. She had more tenacity that he had expected, and she used to laugh even when she landed hard on the dirt floors. He had liked her spirit. Hu-Su's mind returned to the present...
That magic was involved, there was no question in Hu-Su's mind. He knew mages sometimes changed themselves on purpose, and he also knew of mages who were the victims of their own endeavors. Sometimes they needed help, sometimes the opposite...
Hu-Su said, "I am sorry Ms. Riandryl, I did not mean to intrude, it's just that you seem, uh...not quite the same Ms. Riandryl I recall." He paused, studying carefully her reactions to his words.
Kaitlyn frowned, perturbed. She'd forgotten just how observant Hu-Su could be. That might or might not be a useful ability...
Hu-Su noticed the look of remorse on Kaitlyn's face and continued, "Perhaps you are in need of a friend?"
Kaitlyn considered her options carefully. If she was going to find a way to remove the curse that hampered her spell casting abilities, then she could probably use the monk's remarkable powers of observation. If anyone could find the answers she needed then it was Hu-Su. Should she ask Hu-Su for his help in finding a solution to her problem? With the addition of the bard she had heard about, they ought to have no trouble finding a way to remove the curse...
As was his custom, Hu-Su made himself aware of his surroundings. Many people said it was uncanny the way he anticipated things. He knew better; it was sheer mental discipline. He had noticed the uneasy standoff between the men at another table when he entered. At the sight of him they seemed to calm down long enough to take his measure, while he, almost unconsciously, took theirs. Now, out of the corner of his eye, he could see they had decided to continue their disagreement. He suspected there would be a fight. But he also noticed the bartender had something in his hand, just out of sight behind the bar... He saw a range of emotions play across Kaitlyn's face. Finally she spoke...
Kaitlyn ignored the drunken fighters shouting at each other in the middle of the common room. Raising her voice only slightly to be heard above the noise, she began to explain her situation. "Hu-Su, I've been having...problems lately with my spell casting abilities. In fact, I've had to give up magic altogether".
"You see, I--" Abruptly Kaitlyn stopped speaking, having caught sight of a figure just entering the inn. "It's about time!" she muttered, waving the half-elf over to her table. The bard made his way through the common room, circling around the brawl beginning in the center. Kaitlyn summoned a serving-woman. "Let me buy you both a drink, gentlemen," Kait said as the half-elven bard and the serving-woman reached the table at the same time. "By the way--Hu-Su, this is Mac Conglinne. Mac, this is Hu-Su. I'd like to ask you both for your help in removing a curse that's been plaguing me lately..."
Hu-Su noticed the half-elf walk into the bar. Immediately Kaitlyn hailed him over and introduced him. Hu-Su did not like the man for some reason.
Mac wore a threadbare blue traveling cloak over an aged leather tunic. At his side was a short sword. Notable by contrast was the difference between the rest of his clothing--which showed great wear, age and use--and the sword and its sheath. Though unremarkable, the sword and sheath appeared to be in perfect condition. Mac also carried what appeared to be an instrument case of some sort slung over his shoulder.
Hu-Su felt anger well up inside him and barely put it in check; what was wrong? The discipline of many years took over and he was in control of himself again...
Hu-Su said, "Hello, Mr. Conglinne," and then bowed; he still watched the rest of the bar out of the corner of his eye.
Mac lowered himself into the chair and took the ale that was brought for him. He took a gulp, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and turned to address his companions. "And a good evening to you, Mr. Hu-Su," responded Mac, looked over the strangely formal man. If there was one thing that Mac hated it was formality. Why people insisted on acting so stuffy--especially when there was drink, food, and friendship at hand--he would never understand. Oh well, he sighed, he was here to try to help this girl, not to teach this Hu-Su how to enjoy himself. Mac finished off the rest of his pint, quickly ordered another, and turned to Kaitlyn. "Now then, girl, what is it that is so important that you needed to see me so urgently?"
Kaitlyn had been leaning back in her chair and watching the exchange between the two men with a bitter half-smile on her face. Hu-Su seemed a bit suspicious, she noted, but this was only reasonable since Mac took little trouble with his appearance and tended to look disreputable. Kait shrugged mentally and leaned forward to explain her situation to the two men.
Kaitlyn paused and considered what she had been saying. "Maybe I'd better explain this more clearly." She took a sip of her ale.
Kaitlyn cleared her throat and began again. "I was once an apprentice to a powerful wizard by the name of Stefan Calandros. He disappeared about a year ago; at the same time, I began to notice strange...side effects when I tried to cast spells. At first they weren't that noticeable. I'd cast a spell to light a room, for instance, and the light would be a garish purple instead of the ordinary golden glow. Or I'd try to use my scrying crystal and it would show the wrong scene.
"Then I tried to teleport myself to the residence of another wizard, whom I planned to ask for help in locating my master. The spell backfired horribly. Instead of transporting me to my destination, it teleported a very angry half-orc to my workroom in Stefan's tower. I was caught by surprise and barely survived the encounter. That's when I realized that something was *really* wrong with my abilities...
"Since then I've concluded that I must have been cursed. I have no idea who cursed me or why; all I know is that it's there and it's making life extremely difficult for me. Everything that *can* go wrong *does* go wrong--I've even had to give up my magic 'cause it just got too dangerous. None of my attempts to remove the curse have worked. In fact, the curse usually gets *worse* when I try to have it removed. I asked around and was told that if I needed answers or information I should contact the half-elven bard Mac Conglinne. It took me a while to find you, Mac--don't you ever stay put in one place for longer than a few days at a time?--but finally I caught up with you. I arranged to meet you here, and then Hu-Su fortuitously showed up. I need your help--both of you--to find out who did this to me and why; ultimately I'm hoping that you'll help me find a way to get this curse removed..."
Kaitlyn's voice faded away as the noise from the brawl across the room suddenly grew loud enough to drown her out. She glanced over at the fighters in irritation, but of course they were mostly too busy to take much notice of her...
"Remember, Magicus, when the fight starts Sleep as many of them as you can. We don't need to be in trouble with the town guard twice in one week." That was his friend Corwin stating the obvious as usual. However, sizing up the opposition, Magicus doubted he would be able to send more than one or two of them into an unnatural slumber. He prepared himself for the inevitable but was stopped short as his sharp elven ears picked up the sound of a woman's voice...
"I'm hoping that you'll find a way to help me get the curse removed..."
A curse? Thoughts of impending battle flew out of Magicus's head. This was exactly what he had been waiting for! It was the final test that he had to complete before he could become a Wizard of the Higher Echelon. He needed to help someone break a curse. Of course, the fact that the woman who had the curse was rather cute was sort of an added bonus, he added wryly to himself. But would they need his assistance? And if so, would they accept him? There was only one way to find out...
Magicus moved over to the woman's table, absentmindedly saying "Be back in a minute!" in reply to Corwin's "Where are you going?" The opposing side let him by without resistance, figuring it would be one less person for them to have to deal with. When he reached the table, Magicus bowed humbly--as he was just a mage and not a Wizard, his school did not deem it appropriate for him to seem to self-centered--and introduced himself.
"Excuse me. My name is Magicus Tyrasbane. Forgive me if I seem rude, but I overheard you talking about some sort of curse. It is a required part of my training to help someone break a curse they are under. I would like to offer my services in breaking the curse, assuming it is not a simple matter. I am an accomplished mage, though not a full wizard yet, and the full power of my magical resources would be at your disposal." He winced inwardly at how formal his words sounded, but what was said was said. He awaited their reply.
Bob walked up to the bartender; his heavy black armor, sword, and gauntleted hands created the right image. A few questions, and it became obvious that Smith was already gone--and along with him, a chance to make some quick revenue. The group on one side was working up their courage to have a bar fight; if all else failed, perhaps the Inn could use a bouncer. Surveying the rest of the people, he noticed that a small group was collecting apart from the drunks. A comely young woman, an older fellow who looked like he knew how to fight...and they seemed to be talking rather intently. This had possibilities...
When the mage walked over to the group and introduced himself, Bob strained to overhear what was being said. Something about a curse...? Well, he didn't know much about curses, but merc work was a different matter. Curses meant magic; perhaps there might be some magical weapons available? Well worth investigating! And a *lot* better than some of the alternatives.
Bob walked over to the group as the mage was finishing his introduction. Bob smiled and said, "Pardon me, but I noticed you were discussing a business I've some experience in. If you need some people, I'm willing to take on a 'high risk' assignment - and my previous employers have found me willing to do... whatever is needed to... resolve problems. Unlike Magicus Tyrasbane, I use a simple name - Bob. I hear some curses can be removed by...shall we say...*eliminating* whoever cast the curse." Bob smiled. "Have you an interest in my 'professional' services?"
Domain was a swordsmith by day; there wasn't anything he couldn't do with a good piece of steel and a proper forge. In fact, there probably wasn't a single sword in the community that he didn't have a hand in making. Many of those 'warriors' probably owed their livelihood to his swords.
By night, however, Domain was whatever people paid him to be--provided they paid enough. It really didn't matter to him where the money came from, so long as it came and in large enough quantities. He soothed his conscience by drinking and forging his weapons.
Tonight was such a night. He had just gotten back from a long and very evil crusade, one which would burn in his conscience for several months if the gods had anything to say about it. In another futile attempt to soothe his soul, Domain returned to his corner in the Inn and ordered an ale. He was scanning the crowd looking for a familiar face when something caught his eye.
It was a monk, but monks had never bothered him before. Domain looked closer. This was no ordinary monk. This one carried a weapon; but not just any weapon, it was a Katana. Domain knew only one person who forged Katanas, but he never sold them. You had to earn them, and it was not a process that most people could endure. Domain had to find out how this monk had gotten a Katana from his master. He had to go and ask.
She was sobbing as she ran. He couldn't cry yet. They weren't safe yet. Two rapid turns...a straightaway...a door...another turn...down a spiral staircase...down a long hall. Faster. Much faster. It was gaining on them. She was slowing down. There was no way they could get away. A side door. He pushed her in and told her to bar the door.
Turn around. Spells. "Bentham's Guardian Glow." As he finished the spell, a warm glow spread from his staff, filling the hall with soft, pure, white light. Whatever was after them apparently didn't care for illumination. Another spell: "Damion's Diamond Darts." Glowing slivers of pure, solid light flew down the hall. One of them struck in the shapeless mass that stood revealed in the spell-light. At the touch of the bright flechette it whistled and piped in agony. Smoke rose from the wound as the dart burned its way through the creature. Soon there was nothing left. Satisfied, he turned back towards the door. Then he heard her screams. The door wouldn't budge. It shattered inward as he threw "Llanowar's Lambent Spear" at it. He rushed through the door and saw...oh gods, the living black night and the red heart's blood and the one beautiful blue eye...
Damion Grey woke up biting back a scream. It took him a second to realize he was not in the Heart of Darkness after all. That was over. It had been over for a very long time. He sat up in bed and chanted softly to himself, "It is only a dream. There is nothing I an do. There was nothing I could do. It is only a dream...I'm sorry, Michelle. Gods and demons, I never should have split us apart. I'm sorry."
After a moment, he collected himself. He got out of bed and wiped the fear-sweat and tears from his face. He examined his face critically and decided he needed to shave after all. The water in the wash-basin was ice-cold, but "The Hearthless Fire" took care of that, and that was the second cantrip every apprentice learned. The early evening light was abysmal and there was no mirror, but "SilverAir" and "FloatGlow" cantrips solved that problem adequately. He pulled on a pair of black trousers and a reasonably clean white shirt, reflecting that he probably should have studied that cleaning cantrip a little better. It had neatly turned one of his handkerchiefs into a lace doily. He didn't have any shirts to spare.
As Damion pulled on his boots he became conscious of something vaguely wrong. He sat up and looked out the window. The weather was fine. Night was coming, but the moon was nearly full and the stars were there. He looked at the door to his room. His cane still leaned against it, as he had left it. The enchantments on the cane meant that the door was secure unless someone chopped through it. His pack was undisturbed, and so was his satchel.
Finally, Damion decided there was certainly nothing wrong in his room. It must be in the common room. He picked up his satchel and set it on the bed. Tying his bedroll and pack with a complex "Wizard's Knot" so he could safely leave them upstairs, he set his hat on his head, pulled his coat on, threw his satchel over one shoulder, picked up his cane, and went downstairs.
As Damion came out onto the balcony overlooking the common room he heard a commotion. One of the barmaids was having difficulty with an amorous customer. As the man slid one arm around her waist to pull her onto his lap, she dumped a mug of beer down his pants. The customer, who was a very large, powerful-looking man, slapped her twice, brutally.
Damion quietly decided this would be a very good time to forestall a rape. Anyone he could smell from the balcony deserved to be thoroughly messed about. Besides, the barmaid might come in handy later. It never hurt to be owed a favor. Raising his cane, he held the ivory ball that topped it over the man's head and murmured his "Maze Light" spell. The large man's eyes glazed over and he fell face-forward into his stew. Damion grinned cheerfully and continued down the stairs.
As he reached the common room floor, the grin faded. Whatever had been wrong upstairs was definitely still here. He just had to sit down and figure out where. Crossing to a corner table, he pulled out a chair and set his satchel beside him. As he was rummaging around in it for sketching charcoals and his notebook, the barmaid came up to him.
"Beggin' yer pardon, milord, but I wanted to thank'ee for dealin' wi' that drunk over there. Would y'prefer a private booth? Doubtless a noble wizard-lord like yerself is used t'better company and lodgings than an inn's common room."
Damion considered her offer for something less than a second. He was immediately concerned with finding whatever it was that was tickling his magical intuition. A private booth would not help at all. But to please the barmaid, he appeared to consider it for several moments. Then he said quietly, "No thank you, miss. I enjoy the activity. It gives me a chance to sketch. And please--" here he dropped his voice to a whisper, "don't mention to anyone that I'm a wizard. In my country, the church hounds us, claiming we traffic with devils and fiends. There may be some of my countrymen here, and the Inn would hardly be aided by a lynching--or what I would do to a lynch mob."
The barmaid's eyes widened. Damion saw her running through all the tales in her mind. If she angered him, would he turn her into a frog? Sighing, Damion decided it was simpler just to assume she'd said yes.
"Thank you. Could I have a mug of beef broth, bread, cheese, and eggs?"
The barmaid quickly nodded. Damion judged from the way she ran that she was scared enough to give him the whole Inn if he asked for it. He sighed again and took up his charcoal. One figure immediately caught his eye: a large, burly man from the Orient wearing a monkish habit and carrying a curved sword. He was easily the most sketchable figure in the place, and Damion set to work. As he worked, he became conscious that the wrongness was getting stronger. Then he reached the point where the charcoal started to sketch on its own, and as his mind cleared, he suddenly realized two things.
The first realization was that the curved sword his subject carried was a Katana. Such a blade would have been forged only for the finest of Eastern warrior nobles. What was it doing in the hands of a monk, who was supposed to renounce all his wordly ties? The second realization was that the woman sitting next to the monk was the source of the strangeness he had felt.
Damion promptly packed away his sketchbook and charcoals. A scared- looking pot boy brought him his food and scurried away, glad to have not been given ass's ears as a joke. Damion ate meditatively, watching the back of the woman's head. Then he saw her profile, and recognized her. She'd been an apprentice at some cotillion or something. With...Calaman?... Caftan?...CALANDROS! That was it!
It wasn't much to start a conversation on, but it was as good an introduction as he was going to have. Besides, she could hardly pull a knife on him for starting a conversation. Damion got up, took his cane and satchel, and walked over to the source of all this wrongness. Discretion was going to be necessary. Trade secrets shouldn't be blabbed about too much.
Damion stood behind the woman and cleared his throat. Immediately he felt several hard stares on his face. Grinning cheerfully, he ignored the other men and said to the woman, "Pardon me, but I believe I had the rare pleasure of a dance with you at Duke Fenton's ascension festival. Weren't you apprenticed to Stefan Calandros?"
Kaitlyn studied the second arrival. This man was obviously a mercenary, and as a rule Kait didn't trust mercs. This man was also using ominous words to describe his abilities. However, she had no doubt that she'd need all the help she could get, and a fighter would prove useful if they ran into trouble. She knew she'd have to keep an eye on him, but she nodded in response to his request to join the group and he took a seat as well.
A third man had arrived, but he was not there to speak to Kaitlyn. He was speaking to Hu-Su, and he was obviously interested in the sword Hu-Su carried. The man looked like a fighter; but there was a haunted look about his eyes that disturbed Kaitlyn. He seemed a bit down on his luck. "Excuse me, sir," she said softly, interrupting the man's questions about Hu-Su's sword. "We could use a few fighters in our quest; you carry yourself like a fighter, and you have an excellent sword. Would you be interested in joining us? I can pay well for your services," she added as the man opened his mouth to speak. The man tilted his head and appeared to think about it, then nodded brusquely and muttered a name which sounded like 'Wolf Domain', and which Kaitlyn took to be his own. He took a seat next to Hu-Su and waited quietly as Kait considered the man who had just joined the group.
Kaitlyn's eyes narrowed as she tried to place the man. "Yes...I remember you. You're Damion Grey, aren't you?" At the man's affirmative nod, Kait smiled slightly and motioned for him to take a seat. "It's been a long time since we last met, Damion. Things have taken a distinct turn for the worse."
Kaitlyn briefly related to the new arrivals what she had just explained about the curse to Mac and Hu-Su.
What was happening? Years of training to control his emotions brought back enough of his senses so that he could draw upon his inner strength, his KI. Abruptly the feeling of anger subsided and he was left with the heady feeling of adrenaline. MAGIC!!! Strong magic. Something or someone had tried to get him to kill specific people.
Hu-Su looked at the others, who seemed unaffected by this. They were hanging on Kaitlyn's every word as she finished her story. Hu-Su didn't know what this meant, but it seemed urgent. The monk interrupted Kaitlyn. All eyes turned to him as he said, "Something just used magic to try to make me attack all of you..."
No sooner had he finished saying the word 'you' than a second wave of anger washed over him, much stronger than the first. But now he was aware he was being attacked and knew how to deal with it.
Unfortunately the soldiers in the bar and, judging by the uproar coming from outside, the rest of the town did not. The soldiers at the other tables were drawing weapons and looking angry, as were the townspeople in their midst...