Quest for the scroll

The five companions sat at the rearmost table of the inn, watching the comings and goings with barely disguised interest.

“He’s late,” one of the females said, her voice thick with the musical accent of the elven people.

“I would be more concerned if Treveyo were on time,” her twin brother, Suneagle, said with a smile. Moonhawk had never had much in the way of patience, even in their youth.

“Sun is right, Treveyo is one of us, if he were in trouble he would have called to us to aid him,” Ginfla said. His hand going to the small medallion that hung from his neck. A banner and sword intertwined it was the age old symbol of Mavour, the Guardian they had all pledged their allegiance to. Well all of them save Ironbeard; the dwarf having politely declined Mavour’s offer, when he found out he would be expected to use magic and psionics.

“Here he comes,” Rebsla said, her gaze having never left the door.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Treveyo said. “I was ready to leave but I forgot to bring the map and money you’ll need.”

“Why would we need a map, or money for that matter?” Moonhawk asked. “Gerbo is a well designed village, I’m fairly confident that given our tracking abilities we will be able to find our way round. As to funds our last venture was quite profitable.”

“Perhaps if Treveyo could start at the beginning rather than the end we may know what he is talking about,” Rebsla said.

“Of course your highness…” Treveyo stopped, reddening. The twin children of the long dead queen and Mavours; Rebsla and Ginfla were the rightful heirs to the kingdom of Plecru. A right they had claimed upon the death, at Rebsla’s hand in vengeance for their mother, of the Queen’s husband. A right they had given away in favour of adventuring and in the name of democracy.

“Continue, old friend, even Reb here won’t hit you for one slip,” Ginfla said.

“I apologize, it is hard getting used to so many changes. I need to hire your services,”

“When Reb said start at the beginning I think she was hoping for a little more in the way of a middle and end too, I know I was,” Ironbeard said. “Last I checked friends didn’t ‘hire’ other friends, they asked and received favours.”

“I cannot ask this as a favour…if I do then everyone in the village will assume that your services are free to anyone who knows you and the next thing you know everyone will be begging you to go hither and dither on minor things,” Treveyo said. “You forget none here know of my past, of my connections.” He knew it sounded feeble, but it had the bonus of containing an element of truth.

“What troubles you so?” Suneagle asked, seeing a look of fear in his friends eyes.

“I cannot say…not because I don’t want to but because I don’t know. I have a strange feeling that is all, hence I need you to do this for me without question and with the utmost secrecy.”

“If you ever get round to telling us what it is, I’m sure we will,” Moonhawk said.

“I need a scroll, the magic written on it is powerful, it may help with whatever I sense is coming. It is held in the elven lands, which is why I need you to go. They will accept Sun and Moon as there own.”

Moonhawk raised an eyebrow at that…last time they had been to the elven home land was during the war that had seen the world overthrow a tyrant that had enslaved the Human and Zwaresha lands and were determined to take over the Elven and Dwarven ones too. The elves considering themselves safe, only agreed to help because the dwarves had.

“I may still have a warrant out for me,” Suneagle said, a smile in his eyes as he recalled the shock on the councillors faces as he had switched from elven to common in an act of defiance.

“Hence the need for a hefty reward,” Treveyo said, louder than was needed.

“What you ask may not be possible…we may not make it back here alive, we would need at least half the money up front,” Moonhawk said; by taking a deep draft of her ale and making her body sway a little she managed to make it seem both loud and conspiratorial.

Treveyo’s face relaxed into a smile for a brief moment, his eyes filled with gratitude. “Of course; what sort of employer do you take me for?” He demanded, for the growing eavesdroppers.

“One that pays well for what he needs,” Moon said, “I just had to be certain of that.”

“So I have come to understand of your kind,” Treveyo said, with a smile. He slid a bit of paper over.

“For that price, I am almost tempted to bring you along to share the danger,” Moonhawk boomed out, before taking another sip of ale.


“I’m sorry I asked,” Treveyo said, with a shake of his head, a little puzzled by his friends attitude.


“I never said we wouldn’t do it, but I don’t risk my life, or the lives of my friends for anything less than forty gold. I’ll need enough to cover the purchase too, and our expenses,” Moonhawk said.

“That is a hard bargain,” Treveyo said, hiding his surprise with a sip of ale. He had offered her twice that.

“Those are my terms, take them or leave them.”

“Fine,” Treveyo said, tossing the money pouch on the table. “You’ll need this too,” he added handing over a small scroll, “it’s a map to Skybear’s home. It bares his seal, show it to any who try and stop you and they should let you pass without delay.”

“Should?” Suneagle asked, an eyebrow raising slightly.

“You know elven politics, they are the only thing that seem to change with any alacrity within that kingdom,” Treveyo said, standing to leave.

“What you don’t want to be seen drinking with the hired help?” Ironbeard demanded.

“I suppose one more won’t hurt,” Treveyo said, sitting back down and calling over the barmaid.

As often happens with old friends reuniting, the one turned into many as they caught up properly.

********


The companions set out at dawn, making their way through the still sleeping village as quietly as five well armoured and armed people on horseback could do. They ignored the irate protests, each suffering in their own way from the effects of last nights indulgence.

The journey itself, once heads had cleared, was a pleasant one. The sun shone down, but the heat that could have been oppressive was tempered nicely with a soft summer breeze. If there were bandits around, they showed an uncommon amount of good sense and left them alone, much to Moon and Reb’s disappointment. They had been hoping for a good brawl last night, but their respective brothers and Treveyo had curtailed that plan. Having been thus thwarted they were keen to get on the road, brigands being almost as much fun to beat up as the village bullies. Just to ensure that the two were well and truly deprived, even the guards at the elven border were so polite and courteous that to be rude would have been seen as churlish to say the least.

“How’s a person supposed to keep in fighting shape when no-one wants to bloody well fight?” Rebsla grumbled to Moonhawk, who nodded her agreement.

The route to Skybear’s was not a well travelled one, fully dispelling any lingering hopes of action Moon and Reb were harbouring. Within an uroh1 they were forced to dismount and lead their horses, an uroh after that and they felt obliged to abandon them in a small clearing they came across.

“Maybe the footing will be easier in the woods than on this so called path,” Ginfla said, as he stumbled over yet another well concealed root within the tall grass.

“Both the map and the border guards seem to think that unwise,” Suneagle said. “Given the feelings I’m getting from within I would have to say they were right.”

“Our mounts?”

“I put down protection glyphs, though I have the feeling animals are more welcome here than we are.”

“Very perceptive, young one,” a voice, shortly followed by an old elf, said. “It is because of them that you yourselves are still welcome.”

All five of the companions had reflexively reached for their weapons, all five on seeing the elf, sheepishly re-sheathed their swords just as swiftly. They had, after all, come a long way to see him.

“Skybear?” Suneagle asked.

“That is one name I’m known by,” the elf replied.

“I’m sure I can guess a few others,” Moonhawk said softly to Rebsla.

“I’m sure you could, young one,” Skybear said, proving that despite his years his hearing was still intact.

“I meant no disrespect, well not much anyway,” Moonhawk said, with a smile.

Skybear laughed. “You have spirit young one, it will serve you well in life, provided no-one kills you because of it.”

Moonhawk laughed, “I’m Moonhawk,” she said before introducing her friends.

“I take it you didn’t travel all this way just to trade barbs,” Skybear said, sounding a little disappointed.

“Unfortunately not, though having met you I may well return to do just that. Wit like any weaponskill requires practice to keep it sharp.”

“Indeed it does,” Skybear agreed. “My home is not far, we can talk there with more privacy.”

Skybear was accurate in his assessment of distance. The companions, used to this sort of statement being followed by a five mile forced march, were pleasantly surprised to find a cultivated path just round the next bend. The path led to several small buildings, the largest of which was Skybear’s cottage.

“We were sent for a scroll,” Suneagle said, as soon as they were over the threshold.

“Not one for small talk,” Skybear.

“Just, aware of a need for haste,” Suneagle said, with an apologetic shrug.

“All in good time, first let us keep with the tradition of elves, and break bread together.”

“Considering you’re not an elf, perhaps we should. Maybe then we’ll know why we are really here,” Moonhawk said.

“Treveyo wouldn’t set us up,” Suneagle said.

“No, but he was worried about something, I for one would like to know what.” Rebsla said.

“He was definitely eager to be rid of us,” Ginfla agreed.

“Trouble comes to this land, he felt it. I am guessing here, but what he sent you for is viable only against one race that I know of.”

“Your kind?” Moon asked.

“Us elves? Do you think I’d keep something like that round, sell something like that?”

“Please, you are no more an elf than Ironbeard is. You think us to young to know dragon scent?”

“It was a hope. For what it’s worth, it is not my kind doing this. We don’t know who or what they are. They are no more of this world than you are,” Skybear said.


“Doing what?” Suneagle asked.

“I cannot seen it for myself; but you need to hurry back, danger stalks this land and seems to have no purpose other than destruction. Here is the scroll, tell Treveyo if he cannot use it, take it to Tempis in Tero. He will understand it.”

“I know all languages, including magic,” Moonhawk said

“You are an elf. No disrespect meant, but our language has nuisances that you may not be aware of.”

Moon nodded, “I appreciate that, Treveyo being one of you, entrusts us through long acquaintance, you have just met us.”

“He told you what he was?”

“No, it was an unspoken rule. We didn’t ask, he didn’t volunteer.”


The inn at the centre of the village of Gerbo was in the same state as the rest of the buildings they had passed since entering; a ruin.

“What in Mavour happened here?” Moonhawk said, her words seeming loud in the silence that surrounded the companions. Not a building, not a tree and, from the stench of death, not a person remained standing in this once bustling village they had left less than an ekew2 ago.

A low moan from the alley caused all five companions to start, with embarrassed looks they searched for the source. Four of them being duty bound as clerics, to render any assistance they could; all five of them desperate for an answer to Moonhawk’s question.

“Over here,” Suneagle called out, already striding over to where a large stone had fallen into the alley beside the inn. Sat in the alley pinioned beneath it, he could make out Treveyo, his once grey robes now stained dark with his own blood and waste. “Rest easy; we’ll have you out of there in a moment.”

“No, my friends, it's too late. The stone is keeping me alive now as surely as it has killed me. My legs have been without blood too long to repair, and I can no more live a life without them than any one of you could,” Treveyo said.

“What happened here? Was it because of what you sent us for?” Rebsla asked.

“The scroll?” Treveyo asked, smiling at the way even now his friends sought to maintain the secrecy he had sworn them too. “No, that was a task I could send you on so that you would not be here during the attack. Do not look at me like that; your skills, considerable as they are, would have only prolonged your lives a matter of uroh’s. I was able to persuade most of the villagers to leave, but as you have probably seen, not enough.”


“That still leaves the question of who or what did this?” Suneagle said, forestalling any argument his twin Moonhawk or Rebsla could make. He himself would have done nothing different to Treveyo.

“I wish to all the guardians I knew,” Treveyo said. “The buildings seemed to take on a life of their own, and the creatures that sought survivors were as immune to blade and arrow as they were magic and psionics. Too my shame I saw little, I only heard it…”

“You have helped more than you know,” Suneagle said.

“Of that I’m glad, now it is I who must ask a favour.”

“Name it,” Rebsla said.

“Remove the stone."

“No,” Moonhawk said, immediately.

“I will see to it personally,” Ginfla said. “Sleep now, and awaken in whatever guardian's hall you call your own.”

“Gin,” Rebsla snapped, her anger evident on her face.

“What? You would rather interrogate him to death? He has told us all he knows, he asks no more than I would in his circumstance.”

“Gin’s right,” Suneagle said. “Let us do what we can here, then we can head for Tero for answers.”

(Word count 2487)

Footnotes
1  hour
2  week