Tymora's luck

ACT TWO SCENE 4

Joel, Jas, and Emilo stepped through Selune's gate onto a wind-blasted mountainside. The party's first priority became shelter. The wind blew stinging particles of dirt into their face and made walking difficult. They huddled on the leeward side of a large boulder and surveyed their surroundings.

The Blood Tor was no simple conical peak, but a complex series of steep boulder-strewn faces, sloping, but-tresslike ridges, and cliff-walled ravines. The adventurers couldn't even see the pinnacle from their current position because their view was blocked by steep faces above them. Downwind, the slope grew progressively steeper, until it was almost a cliff wall. Upwind, the slope was steep but manageable. If they walked into the wind, they would come to another face that rose to a ridge. The ridge climbed until it ran into another mountain face at a considerably higher altitude some distance away. There was no evidence of any caves.

Joel pulled out the finder's stone and tried imagining a cave opening in the side of the mountain. Whether the stone was reacting to his mental image or just trying to keep him from heading into danger, Joel had no way of knowing, but it issued a weak beam of light in the direction of the higher mountain face off in the distance.

"We're going to have to walk into the wind," Joel said.

"What?" Jas shouted.

Joel repeated his words, shouting to be heard over the roar of the wind.

Jas nodded. Her wings, Joel noted, had altered once more. Now they were bat-shaped, but their color was bright scarlet with golden flecks. Ignoring the transformation, as she always did, Jas opened one of the backpacks Winnie had supplied for them and rummaged around until she found several kerchiefs made of some lightweight fabric. They wrapped the kerchiefs around their faces, shouldered their backpacks, and stepped out into the furious wind.

There was no trail that Joel could perceive, and the slope was treacherous. Rocks gave way beneath their feet and slid and rattled down the mountainside. Far, far below, the waves of a blood-red sea pounded at the mountainside and shot upward in frothy spumes. Overhead, the sky was completely overcast. Black clouds flickered with sheet lightning. It was unclear what illuminated Beshaba's realm, but it was bright enough on the mountainside for their shadows to pool at their feet. Nothing grew on the wind-blasted slope but the red and black lichen that covered the gray rocks all around. They traveled in silence, unable to make themselves heard over the wind.

Time was hard to judge, but it had to be at least an hour before they made it to a notch in the ridge. The climb had exhausted them, and the roar of the wind left them dazed. They passed through the notch. On the other side of the ridge, the slope was less steep, dropping gradually into a great sheltered bowl where a few stunted trees grew. A ledge just wide enough to serve as a trail traveled along the ridge on the sheltered side. There, out of the wind, it seemed almost quiet, and they rested and made a general inventory of the equipment Winnie had packed in the backpacks.

Jas pulled out a padded flask of water and took a few sips. As she handed the flask to Emilo, something large and dark leapt through the notch in the ridge. The creature, a great black stag with red eyes, bounded sure-footedly down the slope. Its rack might have gored an elephant with ease. The beast so startled Emilo that he dropped the water flask. The flask rolled down the hill, spilling its precious contents.

"Rotten luck," Emilo muttered, prepared to lunge after it, but Joel held him back by grabbing the kender's vest. "Careful," the bard said. "It would be worse luck if you went rolling after it and fell down a cliff."

"Sorry," the kender said. "I never drop things like that."

"The black stag is her symbol," Joel said, purposefully avoiding using Beshaba's name. Without Selune and Finder to shield them, using the goddess's name could attract unwanted attention.

Joel lowered Emilo down the slope with a rope attached to his belt so he could fetch the flask, then hauled him back up. The flask was more than half empty, but at least they had it back. If they were desperate enough, Joel could create water to fill it. The party traveled along the ledge on the sheltered side of the ridge. As the ridge climbed higher, the adventurers grew tired quickly and were forced to rest often.

"I feel old all of a sudden," Emilo noted with some surprise.

"The higher you go, the less air there is," Jas explained.

"Of course, here in the Abyss, it could just be there's less air as you approach dangerous powers," Joel suggested.

The ridge and the ledge ended abruptly at a deep gorge and continued on the opposite side. A towering stream of water poured down a cliffside nearly half a mile away. It was the longest waterfall Joel had ever seen, and he could hear the roar of the water in the distance. It was the color of the water, however, that made the sight so eerie. It was blood-red.

The water, Joel thought, must be why the mountain is called the Blood Tor. It looks like blood pouring from a wounded land. He wondered briefly why the water was red, then decided he didn't want to know.

The water surged down the gorge below them toward the sea, where the goddess Umberlee made her realm. There was a rope bridge over the gorge, but it wasn't sheltered by the ridge. Consequently the bridge had been battered by the wind with such violence that it was a knotted tangle of ropes and reeds that appeared completely uncrossable.

"You want to try unravelling the bridge, or should I just fly us across?" Jas asked Joel.

Joel watched the bridge flap about as the wind came ripping up the gully. "Do you think you can fly in that wind?" he asked.

Jas shrugged. "I trust my wings more than I trust that contraption."

"I knew a caravan guard who used to say all the luck in the world won't make up for willful stupidity. I'm thinking we should test the reverse of that rule. Perhaps some willful reasoning will make up for all the bad luck in this realm. We're not going to leave anything to chance."

Since Emilo was the smallest, and together Joel and Jas could bear his weight easily, they rigged up a harness for the kender to use while he tried to unravel the bridge. They attached the harness to two lines of rope. Joel held one line and Jas took the other. Should the bridge collapse, Joel would keep the kender from falling into the gorge and Jas would risk flying upward to keep him from slamming into the sides of the ravine.

Emilo started down the rope bridge, untangling it as he went with his dexterous hands. The moment the kender had gotten all of the reed walkway to lie flat, he dashed across the rest of the bridge like a startled rabbit. The whistling wind made communication impossible, so they weren't sure what had alarmed Emilo. The kender turned, and to demonstrate the bridge's unreliability, he gave a sharp tug on one of the old worn ropes.

The ropes snapped in the center of the bridge, and the bridge flopped sideways. Emilo removed both lines from his harness and attached them around a boulder. Joel held both lines on the opposite bank. With a lead rope attached to the lines, Jas flew across with the first knapsack. The winds buffeted her, but the lead rope held and kept her from losing control of her direction. She checked the lines Emilo had affixed before flying back for the second backpack.

Before Jas carried him across, Joel hammered a piton into the rocky ridge, slipped one line through the piton, and joined the lines into one. Jas had more trouble with the bard's weight. She lost altitude rapidly shortly after taking off. Joel's stomach lurched. Then the wind forced the winged woman back upward. When they reached the other side, she ducked behind the ridge and collapsed onto the ledge.

Joel untied the knot joining the two lines Emilo had affixed about the boulder. He tugged the rope through the piton. Somehow he'd forgotten to check the ends of the line before he began pulling. A knot near the end of the line caught in the piton. He tried yanking at the piton to no avail. Then he cut the rope and let it fall back into the gorge, where it hung forlornly from the piton until a gust of wind caught it and sent it flapping about until it was tangled with the useless rope bridge.

When they reached the mountain slope where the ridge ended, the finder's stone's light pointed to the right of the ridge, which meant walking once again into the wind. Wearily they started out again.

They'd only been traveling a short while on the new face when there was a tremor in the ground and a great thunderous rumble all around them. Small rocks tumbled down the slopes, pelting the adventurers until they took shelter downslope of a great boulder. All the while, Joel prayed that the boulder wouldn't suddenly start rolling. The tremor subsided. Then suddenly the wind died and they were encased in a thick gray fog.

"Are earthquakes followed by fog regular occurrences in the Abyss?" Jas asked Joel. "Or do you think it had something to do with you-know-who and her sister?"

Joel shrugged. It was possible that Tymora had released another burst of power, and Beshaba, unable to absorb it quickly, had to disperse it into her realm. It made sense, but it was mere speculation.

Fearful of the terrain's uncertainties, the adventurers decided to make camp right where they were. The ground sloped at least thirty degrees where they halted, but Joel doubted they'd find a gentler incline if they continued. They fixed a rope between two boulders and stretched a tarp overhead. Huddled in their makeshift tent, they feasted on the contents of Winnie's backpacks.

There were packages of fresh berries that had been magically enchanted. Just a few berries left them feeling reasonably nourished. To dispel the chill brought on by the fog-laden air, Joel heated one of the metal flasks with a spell to boil the water within.

With his back against the boulder, Joel kept watch while Jas and Emilo slept. By the light of the finder's stone, the bard perused the magical scrolls Winnie had placed in the backpacks. Some time later Emilo woke and took over the watch. From one of Winnie's packs, Joel pulled out a magically glowing lantern and gave it to Emilo. Then the bard rolled the finder's stone into a spare tunic and used the tunic for a pillow.

The kender stared into the fog, imagining all sorts of creatures in the swirling mists. He began whistling softly to keep awake and to fight off the cheerlessness of this place. Whenever he fell prey to bad dreams, this was the sort of place in which the dreams were set. He whistled a second tune, and just as he began whistling a third melody he spotted a flame burning somewhere off in the mists downhill from their camp.

It's a campfire, Emilo thought, and not too far off. He wondered whether something evil had settled nearby. He knew he should wake the others, but he suspected Joel would be overly cautious and insist they avoid going anywhere near the light. His curiosity roused, Emilo couldn't stand that thought. The flame seemed to draw the kender like a moth. He had to see it up close.

Leaving the magically glowing lantern behind, Emilo slipped out from under the tarp and padded silently downhill toward the flame. As he got closer, he slowed his steps and proceeded more cautiously. The kender ducked behind a boulder no more than twenty feet from the fire and peered around the edge. The flame flickered a foot off the ground with nothing to fuel it, as if it were an illusion or some other sort of magical fire.

Emilo could see no one around the fire. The kender wondered if whoever had created the fire was invisible. He watched carefully for shadows across the flame or an outline in the fog and listened for the noise of breathing, but there was no sign of anyone.

Unable to contain his curiosity, Emilo stepped out from behind the boulder and walked right up to the fire. He put a hand out. Heat emanated from the flame. Welcome, Emilo Haversack, a voice whispered inside his head.

Emilo whirled around in surprise, but there was no one behind him.

Turn and look at me, the voice in his head ordered.

Emilo spun around and looked back at the flame. "Are you talking to me, fire?" he asked with amazement.

I am forming thoughts inside your head, the voice explained. The fire is only a manifestation of my being that I created to draw you away from your companions so I could speak with you in private.

"Who are you?" Emilo asked.

Can you not guess? the voice asked. You find yourself in a perilous adventure fraught with gods. Does it surprise you that one of your own gods takes an interest in your safety?

Emilo's jaw dropped. He shook himself. "You're a god, too?" the kender whispered. "Which one are-wait, I know. Are you Sirrion? The Flowing Flame?"

The fire flared high over the halfling's head. Emilo thought he saw a red rose blossoming in the tongues of flame.

I cannot manifest in this dark place for long, kender. You must listen carefully and do as I say.

"Yes, sir," Emilo said with a nod.

You must take the finder's stone from the bard-priest and dispose of it where it will never be found.

"Why?" the kender asked with astonishment.

The stone is cursed. It will lead your friends to their doom, but your companions will not believe you if you try to warn them. They will use the stone anyway, unless you take it from them. Toss it down the mountain so it will never be found. You will find a safer entrance to Beshaba's realm down this hill. When the fog clears, look for the bats returning to the cave.

"But Finder made the stone into a power key. Without it, Joel can't cast spells in the Abyss," Emilo objected.

Joel will need no more spells. Have faith. The path I have prepared for you is clear. Take the finder's stone and throw it away. It is the only way to save your friends.

The fire flared higher, then suddenly vanished. Emilo was left alone in the fog.

The kender turned in the direction of the tarp. Through the fog, he could spy the lantern he'd left in the entrance. He made his way back to the camp and slipped beneath the tarp. Ever so carefully he slid his hand into the rolled-up shirt beneath Joel's head until fingers felt the finder's stone. Slowly he eased it out from beneath the bard's head. Joel stirred slightly as his head sank deeper into the rolled-up shirt, but he did not awaken.

Emilo slipped out of the tent again with an uncomfortable feeling that something wasn't quite right. Once outside, he held up the yellow crystal and examined it. The stone was a thing of beauty. Cut and polished to perfection, it reflected back dozens of Emilos.

It's a shame that it's cursed, Emilo thought. He pulled back his arm to pitch the stone downhill, but he couldn't bring himself to release it. Even though he'd taken it for a good reason, it was still Joel's property. It didn't feel right to cast it away.

Surely, the kender thought, it will be enough to hide it from Joel so he can't use it. Once we find Sirrion's entrance to Beshaba's realm, we'll be safe. Then I can give it back to Joel.

The kender tucked the stone into his knapsack, feeling a little less uneasy about the compromise he'd made.