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The days of hope were renewed. The winds blew freer it seemed, and the far off red moon seemed somehow dimmer. The King called a council to which the Chosen Ones were bidden to attend. The King spoke gravely. Kallyr looked at them, taking the eye of them each in turn. Now, Kallyr has a stare that not many can endure.
‘We have won a great victory. But against the evil Shepelkirt victory cannot be won by we few here, resisting in this fortress. Our people, both of Heortland and Sartar, choke on the bitter draughts of Lunar rule. Here sit worthy kings and lords who wait only for the time of the fall of the Shepelkirt. Whilst we sit here, whatever victories we achieve we must take heart my countrymen. There may yet come a day without Lunar rule, when the gloating poison orb shall be torn from the sky.’
The King was right. They had won a victory, but not a final one. Final victory never seemed further from reality. The Lunar Empire was too vast, its resources seemingly unquenchable, and if they were to sally forth and attempt to drive the Lunars before them, what hope could their fyrd have standing in the open field, shield to bloody shield with the iron shod hoplites of the evil Empire. The King spoke again.
‘Word have I from the north, and this city must not fall, yet a while at least.’ Kallyr bit her lip and looked at the King. ‘But we cannot stand alone,’ spake the King. ‘Word must reach our friends. Help must reach us here that can to aid our cause. I will send out the Blue Arrow. We are but buying time to give others a chance to rescue our cause. The road may become bleak and hope fade, but with faith in our Gods I tell you we shall prevail. Leave me now and prepare the Sacred Time ceremonies. We will need the Gods strengths in the year to come. I would the Chosen Ones remain behind.’
The Chosen ones stood together before the Kings throne. Kallyr stood to the right of the King. The magnificent gem that sat upon her forehead caught the morning sun shining through a high window. Standing there she looked like a God of old, mayhap a vision of Vinga when the Gods of Storm held sway upon the earth. Broyan, windswept by his personnel winds spoke to them of their homeland. Insterid had told Kallyr, that Arya had said she had met and fought a champion of the Culbrea tribe named Argrath. Argrath is a name of wyrd, and only the gods can give that name to a child. Argrath means liberator in the language of the Heortlings. The King asked if the Chosen Ones would return to their homeland and seek out this champion and carry the Kings message; the Kings Blue Arrow. To this they agreed as one. Oh to see the hills and mountains of the north again, and to feel the earth of their homeland beneath their feet. They would bring word to the Gwandor.
A mighty feast was held whereupon the King mightily gifted the Chosen One Hero Band. Chief amongst these was Kurash Ingardsson, who received a Barony from the King. Other gifts of iron and magic were given to the companions. Olend, came to his companions saying that he had spoken to his Captain, Elmalandti, and that he was needed for business elsewhere. The Helering had brought gifts of silver rings for his companions and they made pledges and oaths of friendship. To keep his honour he had besought a kinsman of his, Torath Bofrostsson, to join their endeavours and to at least see them to their homelands. Torath, known as Stormdancer, performed the ritual and joined with the guardian of the Chosen Ones, Mykka.
Thus they journeyed north, thought the way was hazardous and they had to avoid the Lunar troops. Truth to tell they marvelled that the lands were not crawling with redmen, the way the bloated corpse might crawl and writhe with the foul maggot. It seemed the main part of the Lunar force had passed Whitewall by and rumour was that Karse, port of the south was besieged.
It was a cold, wet morning when they entered the Tula of their home. The snows of winter were now far behind and soon the flowers of Voria would greet Elmal’s season and then after would be harvest time.
The Chosen Ones were welcomed into the bosom of home as heroes. The Wenchbane wove such tales that had the clan Anzarni enthralled in the ever-lightening evenings.
The warriors looked on with renewed awe at the Chosen Ones. All remembered the day when the Blue Storm Dancer, sacred kite of the Anzarni, had been stolen by a raven. When Wenchbane, who was the scourge of many fathers, put himself forward he was not a popular choice for the mission, less so the scholar Kurash. They only assented to the elder’s affirmation that the entertainer and scholar seek for the kite as Aren, faithful hunter of Orlanth had promised to guide them. The dishonour endured by the warriors of the clan was repaired when the Chosen Ones had rescued Ariella the Vingan, shamefully crucified on the clan tula by evil taxmen of the Empire.
The Chosen Ones prepared to travel to the Gwandor. Travelling to the Gwandor alone is considered brave by many peoples north of the Quivin peaks. They are a fierce people with a deadly reputation. The renowned God-talker Gudny Stormchaser and his warband were well known throughout the Culbrea. At length the chieftain, Kulbrast, met them in his hall and with nods of the clan ring said that his people had no business in the south and refused the Blue Arrow. Arya was almost incandescent with rage, and said as much a proven thane might in the presence of a clan chieftain without invoking reprisals against her people. Disappointed the Chosen Ones readied to leave when Gudny came to them and offered feasting at his stead that night.
Those of the Gwandor interested in fighting the Empire gathered at Gudnystead with The Chosen Ones heroband and talked long into the night. Wenchbane told the tale of the bat, and their battles and travails. Kurash told the story of Sartar's lamp and of his Tower in Battle Valley, which King Broyan had bidden him tell in the presence of the one named Argrath. Argrath was a hearthguard of Gudnystead. It needs be said that Gudny did not forbid any of his household to go to wars in the south, but for himself he would not. Instead he vowed to seek the truth in the tale.
With heavy hearts the companions made for home. If the mighty warriors of the Culbrea would not fight, what could be done? When they had returned home there was a summons awaiting them from Minaryth the Purple, the Jonstown sage.
They were stopped at the gate of the walled town by the Lunar guard. It seems that they were looking for the Chosen One Heroband, lead by a known and dangerous Helering rebel. It was fortunate that Olend was not with them, being marked by Heler's runes and the gleaming Scale of Culbra. They made their way to Minaryth.
He informed them that Cletus Aeolus had returned to Jonstown in a fearful rage. He called into question wisdom of the taunting of the Irrippi Ontor sage with the scroll they left in place of the one that Aren had skilfully taken back. For their part, the companions wished to know how the investigations of the star disk were going. Minaryth said that there was not much more he thought he could learn from the star disc. It was plain the Lunars had resolved to build a Reaching Moon temple. He had also heard rumour that one was planned for Esrolia, but he felt that was entirely unlikely. No, what Minaryth needed them for was to visit Forang Farosh in the squalid village of Tink to get information on Jarn, the fabled city of the Empire of the Wyrms Friends. Like all cities of Dragon Pass it was utterly destroyed by the Dragonkill War more than twenty and five generations ago. Forang has secret knowledge of the Empire of the Wyrms friends, claiming that he was a citizen of the Empire. Minaryth said that he couldn’t be certain that Forang was not just an old fraud, but he knows that Tosti Runefriend, a dragon expert, is an associate of Forang. Professional rivalry meant that Tosti could not be consulted on this matter! Garstal himself claimed he was ‘too busy’ in research to go to Tink.
Once again the Chosen Ones felt manipulated by Minaryth, but for the good of the cause, acquiesced once more. Thus it was they set of for Tink.
The companions continued on their journey in the frosty morning travelling north now on the Kings road to Dangerford.
Dangerford was a Lunar fortress on an island in the river. It sat astride the only ford across the water for many leagues and was guarded by eighteen-foot stonewalls and a large Imperial garrison.
The companions left the road here and struck out west, over the ford and into Dinacoli land. The Dinacoli were of the Far Point confederation, ruled by Harvar Ironfist.
As they rode on through and then past the Dinacoli, the caravan came across a tall stone plinth. The plinth was carved with strange runes and had the marks of the dragon newts on it. Several score human heads surrounded the plinth impaled on long lances.
On another crisp morning, the companions lead the wagons out of the hills and spied “Trader’s Plinth” and the dragon newt city of Dragon’s Eye in the distance.
The City of Dragon’s Eye stretched over six leagues from side to side. A strange green glow emanated from the buildings, which seemed to defy logic. The entire city just looked wrong. Perspective did not seem to work right.
So it happened that the party reached the town of Tink. Tink had been a vibrant mining town but with the end of the veins, had fallen into decay. Most of the buildings were weather beaten or burnt out. There was an old foundry here that was slowly falling in upon itself.
That evening the Chosen Ones found Forang. They talked with Forang about the ancient city of Jarn and whether he knew where it was. He agreed to answer them if they delivered a package to Isildirian the Wise, the leader of the Mostali at Dwarf Mine. The Heroes agreed.
The friends fared north along “Dwarf Trail”. They stopped for news and directions at the Town of Hamand and arrived at Dwarf Mine the next morning.
Dwarf Mine is a strange complex dug into the mountainside. The most obvious feature is two giant statues flanking the entranceway. Each is over 100 meters tall and carries an axe that matches their stature. It was later learned that the statues would come to life to defend the mine. There were many small windows with long metal tubes sticking out of them. When asked the mostali named them “cannon”, they are apparently a form of defence.
As the companions approached the entranceway, Iron Mostali stopped them. These are the warrior dwarves. They were encased from head-to-foot in iron plate armour. The leader pointed a short stick with a metal tube on the top at the friends and asked their business. Kurash told him that he was to deliver a package to Isildirian the Wise and demanded passage. In it’s mechanical voice, the dwarf asked if it was “bar-coded”. He directed the puzzled men inside to “registration”.
Fearing some plot or trap by Minaryth, Kurash agreed that he would go in alone, lest they all be slain by the weird stunted folk. Within the entrance hall were many low benches in a row with dwarves sitting behind them writing industriously on the thinnest, whitest parchment that Kurash had ever seen. Truly a marvel, and when he looked closer the mostali appeared to be writing their strange runes on the lined parchment. People of various types were sitting in front of these benches and more were standing in queue. Kurash turned to address a dwarf sitting next to the door; the mostali pointed sharply at a sign on the wall.
Kurash tried to talk to the mostali again but it would only look at him angrily and point at the sign. Finally Kurash looked carefully at the sign and saw a dispenser on the bottom that held pieces of numbered paper.
After a while, the number on Kurash’s paper was called by one of the mostali at the desks. Kurash stormed over and the dwarf about the package he needed to deliver. The dwarf asked for his name. He wrote it on his pad. He asked for Kurash’s homeland, current residence, and occupation. At this point Kurash started to get impatient and demanded to know what this was about, after a few more questions, religious affiliation and sub-cult membership, the mostali seemed satisfied, having completed the “registration process”. He was lead into a small room and instructed to remove all “non-functioning organic and all non-organic” materials from his person and was handed a very thin, white, one-piece article of clothing. He was asked to press his fingers into a box full of ink and was then put in front of a box on legs which blinked very bright light at him, blinding him temporarily.
It now being nearly nine hours since Kurash had entered the Dwarf Mine, he was lead to Isildirian the Wise. He introduced himself and gave him the package. The mostali opened it, read it, stroked his beard while he thought about it and walked over to a chess table. He moved a piece, wrote something on the back of the letter, resealed it and gave it back to the gaping Sage.
Isildirian talked to Kurash about a machine in the room called an “Alch-Transformer” which was supposed to affect a person’s magic. He asked what Kurash would do with the device. “Kill Lunars,” was the quick response. Isildirian gifted Kurash with a medallion that would allow him to by-pass registration next time he came to the mine and gave him this warning:
“Be wary of dragon powers. Their powers are deep and mysterious, beyond of the ken even of us immortals.”
The companions fared back to Tink for Kurash to deliver the letter to Forang.
Forang answered Kurash’s question about Jarn. It was a city, built upon two mighty shoulders of the Quivin Mountains, facing toward Prax, on the southern side of Sambari Vale. He gave them a map of its exact location.
So now the Chosen Ones busked home and did not draw reins until they reached Jonstown. They gave the message to the purple sage who said that he ‘would have his people look into it’.
Minaryth told the Heroes that the Lunars had stepped up their search for the Chosen One Heroband and his sources told him that they had discovered that they were Anzarni. He suggested that they lay low elsewhere for a while. Where would they go? Minaryth told them the tale of the Wind Sword and the prophecy that no King of Sartar will sit in peace without it. He had divined that it was hidden upon the mountain of Griffins. Word had come to his ears that there was a mountain called Griffin Mountain in Balazaar to the north. He knew a merchant name Joh Mith who was leaving to travel north to Balazaar and that he was in need of some ‘Caravan Guards’. Glumly the Heroes agreed. Would they ever be free of the cursed purple sage?