The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Every Day a Walk In The Park... Options

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The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Part Seven

Darius, according to Master Demnevanni, ran his office out of the Madach Tradehouse in Gnisis. So, after translocating there after breaking my fast, I made my way into the lower half of the “shell” that comprised the Tradehouse. Darius was short, stocky, and clad in gorgeous armour – all gilded metal with a flowing red cape. He looked up at me and said, “So, you want to join the Legion do you Citizen Vahl? Well, it’s true that we have a shortage of Manpower ~ and Merpower for that matter. You look capable enough. Tell me, are you capable of following orders?”

“Excellent,” he said when I assured him I was. “It’s a Mer’s life in the Legion. Every day a walk in the park, every meal is a banquet, every pay check a fortune. It’ll make a Ma... Mer of you. Right, Recruit Vahl, here is your regulation-issue chain cuirass. You will wear it when you address a superior officer, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes… sir,” I replied.

Darius shook his head. “The first and last word I want to hear out of your mouth when you address me is ‘Sir’. Now sound out like you got a pair. Do you understand me?”

“Sir, yes Sir,” I said in a clear voice, desperately trying to ignore the sniggering Orc in the corner of the room.

“Outstanding,” he said. “Now get that cuirass on and I’ll give you your orders.

“You might be wondering,” he said once I’d got the chain cuirass in place, “why I am billeted in the Tradehouse? Well, it’s because we have no room to expand. The widow Vabdas has a parcel of land the Legion needs to expand. I want you to come back to me with the deeds as quickly as possible. Is that understood?”

“Sir, yes Sir,” I replied, turning to march out of the room. As I went up the stairs, I heard General Darius addressing the Orcish Trooper, “gro-Khazor, what is your major malfunction?”

Vabdas had a house just west of town, out past Arvs-Drelen, so it wasn’t difficult to get to. Her reaction, when I spoke to her about the land-deed was to slap me across the face ~ hard. I suppressed the spells that roared into my mind and, speaking carefully, said, “you would be wise not to do that again.”

“Why?” she snapped, and now I could see the tears in her eyes. “Because you’ll kill me like you did Mansilamat?”

“I assure you ma’am,” I told her, “I had no part in the death of Mansilamat. Tell me what happened…” Bit by patient bit, I dragged the story from her. It seems that her husband, the aforementioned Mansilamat, had gone to the Egg-Mine at Gnisis to get some eggs. There, according to the widow, the Legion had killed her husband.

As I walked back towards Gnisis, I reflected that whatever power controls my life has an infinite capacity for capriciousness. What should have been the simple acquisition of a deed to some land had now become a murder investigation. Of course, that was how General Darius saw it and he told me to obtain proof that the Legion had been involved. Fortunately, the guard at the door of the Egg-Mine proved amenable to my charming behaviour and, after checking that there was nobody watching, he gave me the key to the door.

There was a familiar stink about the mine, one that I remembered from the Mudan-Mul Mine. Drawing my sword, I advanced with some care. Fortunately, whatever was blighting the mine was confined to the lower quarters and the Scribs in the upper chambers were not aggressive. I wish the same could be said of Trooper gro-Ogdum. The Orc gave me a three count to get the Oblivion out of the area he was guarding. As quickly as I could, I chose one of the passages and headed off down it. From up ahead I could hear the drip-drip of water and a strange noise ~ like wind. As I rounded the corner, I came upon the source of the sound. There, in the middle of the passage, was an Ancestral Spirit.

“Hear me Mortal,” it moaned, as I made ready to swing my sword, “Stay your hand ~ I am Mansilamat Vabdas, I was murdered, most foully, by the Orc Lugrub gro-Ogdum. I beg you, avenge me…” The last syllable was drawn out as the spectre faded from view. I knew that the word of an apparition would carry no weight with General Darius: I needed more proof. I found it in the depth of the pool nearby ~ the corpse of Mansilamat and a notched Imperial axe.

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“Stone-Quest, Stone-Quest,” the Skaal around the table began to chant, banging their tankards on the table at each repetition of the word ‘quest’.

“Aye,” Tharsten said, raising a hand ~ the chanting stopping instantly, “the stone-quest. Your loyalty tae the Skaal to test, the journey of the Stone-Singer ye’ll repeat. After nuncheon is complete, talk tae Korst Wind-Eye. Now, eat, drink, and make merry.”

A lute struck up a merry tune as more meat and mead were served, followed by a ‘stew’ of red berries that had been sweetened with honey and had some unidentifiable spice in it. As I ate, I realised that the one-eyed Skaal had vanished from the seat opposite ~ and I had no recollection of him having got up and left. My eyes narrowed, that was some powerful magic right there.

Korst Wind-Eye greeted me politely when I entered his hut. Feathers and beads hung from the rafters and painted animal skins decorated the walls. In one corner sat an ancient set of alchemical apparatus ~ while parchments and books littered several tables. I recognised the signs ~ here was a practitioner of the arcane arts. I sat and listened as Korst told me of six standing stones, each representing a ‘gift’ from the One. In order to complete the quest that Tharsten has set me, I would need to visit each of the six stones.

“‘Tis nae so simple a task as it sounds,” Korst said, grinning at me. “Tae help ye on your way, I’ll gift ye this map and book. The map, the location of the standing stones shows. The book, something that your understanding of the Skaal will increase.”

I thanked him, spreading the map on the table and examining it. Off to the west lay a stone, near some mountains. If the ancient hand-drawn map was correct, there was a tributary of Lake Fjalding that ran from the Moestring Mountains ~ I’d find the stone there. (Even though there was a stone close to the village, I decided to leave that one until last ~ working my way around the island stone by stone).

The snow was still falling thickly when I left the village and I was glad that the Skaal had given me some provisions, warm furs, and something to start a fire. The fact that I had my tent with me was a great relief too. Making my way down to the shores of the frozen lake, I followed the shoreline around until I came to a shallow, fast running stream that fed the lake. This stream, according to the hand-drawn map, would lead me to the Moestring Mountains and the first stone ~ represented on the map by a series of wavy lines.

Following the stream I went on my way ~ apart from a run in with a blubbery semi-aquatic creature there is little to report of the journey. Before too long, I could make out the massive bulk of the Moestring Mountains rising up from the plains. As I drew closer I soon espied a tall spire of stone rising from the banks of the frothing stream. Fortunately, I was on the right side of the stream ~ I really didn’t fancy wading through that clear, icy-cold water ~ and I was soon able to get close to the stone. As I did, there was a flicker of light and I distinctly heard a chorus of voices in my head: “Seek thou Glenschul’s Tomb, south and east. Free the wind from the bag of the Greedy Man.”

Nobody told me that the damn’ stones would be talking to me! With an irritated look at the smooth stone spire, I turned southeast and struck out across the plains ~ having taken the precaution on placing a Mark at the base of the stone. I’d been travelling for a while, maybe an hour or so because of the reduced visibility, when I came to a large tomb-entrance. The symbols carved on the door were, obviously, not the cartouches I was used to. However, having grown up near Hammerfell, I was conversant with Nordic runes and could, after stamping through my memory, make out the name Glenschul.

The heavy stone door swung open, revealing the gloom within. There was a clattering sound as I stepped inside the crypt and, around a corner, came a skeletal wolf. With a yell, I drove the heavy Ebony sword blade through its skull, smashing it to powder. To my dismay, the creature wasn’t alone ~ there were dozens of the damn’ things, along with the more usual humanoid skeletal warriors. Taking a deep breath, I ploughed into them, sword swinging.

Panting, I sank beside the stone pedestal that dominated the interior chamber. While the skeletal creatures hadn’t been particularly tough foes, the sheer number of them had made fighting them… problematical. Still, my heavy Ebony blade had served well, smashing bones to fragments. I may have dozed a little as I sat there for, when I awoke, I was filled with a new energy and resolve. I felt stronger and fitter than when I’d entered the grave, filled with vim and vigour. Rising to my feet, I began to explore the chambers.

Two things of interest were in the two joined chambers, both to be found in the inner chamber. The first was a skeleton encased in ice, resting on a shelf hacked into the raw stone of the wall. Only, whatever material this shimmering ice-like substance was, it certainly wasn’t ice. Neither a burning torch or the fiercest blow I could fetch it with my axe made any mark upon the smooth surface. Puzzled, I took several steps back and launched my most powerful fireball at the shrouded figure ~ I may as well have stuck with the torch for all the effect it had.

The other was a large Hessian sack that pulsated and twitched as though it contained some living creature. Grasping the rope that secured the neck of the sack, I yanked it open. There was a whooshing sound and a solid wall of wind knocked me from my feet, simultaneously extinguishing every torch in the tomb. Sitting up, I cursed softly and vehemently before fetching my travelling lantern from the pack and striking a spark to the wick. By the fitful light of the lamp, I gathered my belongings and cast Recall.

The standing stone shimmered with a pale grey light, the still-falling snow swirling in tight patterns near its base. With a smile of satisfaction, I headed southwards towards Frostmoth ~ there is a stone near there that I should be able to reach easily on the morrow.