Mud and Magic Ch. 07

"Sadly, his skills are needed elsewhere. I saw him pack his things shortly before I came to you last night," Idunn said. "He should be halfway to Lordehome by now."

"Damn. I didn't even get to say 'good bye' and 'thanks.'"

"I'm sure the two of you will meet again eventually," Idunn said. "So, who's on your mind?"

Rhys quickly mulled over his options. "Well, given who's left... I think I'll take Lishaka. Unless you want to come, that is. I need someone who can cast Teleport and her penchant for chaos and destruction will be very useful."

"I should have added myself to the list. I think Thurguz would call it 'cheating' if I came with you," Idunn admitted. "Good choice. Who's next?"

"We know precious little about our target, the defenses, fuck, anything. I need someone who can gather information quietly. Since scrying doesn't work," Rhys rubbed his temple, "I'll pick Chassari. Her wide skill set should be a good fit."

Idunn just nodded.

"Well, and for the final member... Things will get dicey sooner rather than later, so a top-notch fighter has to come too. Either Hilgrun or Borna." Rhys closed his eyes. "And I think I'll take Borna along."

"Hilgrun won't like that one bit if she finds out. Why the Demon Princess?"

Rhys grinned. "You should have seen how the guards in Storm Harbor reacted when she dropped her disguise. Her appearance already causes terror and confusion, plus this time we won't be fighting undead." He paused. "Or rather, we won't be fighting many undead, so her cursed claws will cause maximum damage, just what we need when we're outnumbered."

"Good choice." Idunn said. "What's that about undead?"

"It's a hunch," Rhys admitted, "but I think unless Carver has many high-ranking spellcasters he's willing to send to the ass end of the elven woods, the one responsible for the scrying ward will be a Raghbairn. Between Lishaka and me, we should be able to handle that. I hope."

"Sound reasoning. Gather all your equipment and meet us in the common room. Don't dawdle!" Idunn left, closing the door behind her.

Rhys dressed in his traveling gear - trousers, shirt, vest, cloak and boots - and returned to the desk. Two new maps had been placed prominently on the stone tabletop, held in place by the empty cider mugs, the bottle and a strange instrument, like a clock with only one hand and letters instead of numbers. The casing was made of buffed wood and a round glass pane was inserted into the top, allowing an unhindered view at the hand. It took Rhys a moment before he recognized it as a compass. Idunn must have left it here for me to find, he thought. I really need to thank her after this.

He returned his attention to the maps. Thankfully the annotations are in Common, Rhys thought, eyeing the delicately drawn documents. One showed Sunleaf in its entirety, at the height of its power. Back during its heyday, the elven hold measured almost two hundred miles across, mainly lush forests interspersed by a few farmsteads and ranches. Pegasus roost? Rhys read. I'd love to see one.

The other map was more current, only thirty years old. Idunn had used a charcoal pencil to mark three locations. The first Rhys recognized, despite the shape of the woods being much different from the older map. But the river nearby is still the same, he thought. The Hall of the Speaker. Probably where she wants us to teleport to. The next mark wasn't too far away, probably less than a day's march. 'The Dancing Dryad?' Let's hope the place is still there. And the final note... It was a circle with a question mark inside, at least three or four days away from the 'Dryad'" Our target. Let's hope Idunn is right and - more importantly - that I've read this right.

Rhys claimed the maps, the compass and two almanacs describing Sunleaf. His traveling gear only had small pouches and loops to hold weapons and wands and he didn't plan on lugging his whole loot bag with him. He walked over to the wardrobe and pulled the satchel Celeste had given him from it. He shook his head. Never even bothered to look what she might have put in there, he mused. It was a sturdy, roughly rectangular leather bag with a wide shoulder strap, tight seams and two clasps holding a long flap in place. He pulled the flap open and upended the satchel over the bed. A few items rustled onto the duvet.

One was a metal scroll tube, plain except for its ivory end caps. Rhys opened it and shook out the contents. A rather thick scroll fell into his hand, held shut by a pink ribbon. He unfurled it. It was some kind of picture collection, intricate wood drawings depicting men, women and even some beast races in all kinds of erotic positions. It started innocently enough, with people hugging, kissing and clandestinely slipping hands under shirts, skirts or into trousers, but it evolved rather quickly, until, near the end, the pictures contained groups of three, four, five partners in quite elaborate arrangements.

The next item was a small, octagonal tin with a metal lid. Rhys unscrewed it and sniffed. A familiar aroma wafted from the colorless paste. He blushed. It was the same ointment Chassari had used on his behind to...prepare him for her ivory phalli. Rhys raised an eyebrow and re-screwed the lid. Might come in handy, he admitted. The last two items were much less racy. A small flask, embossed with the Wings of Mercy probably contained a healing draught of some kind. The last thing he found was a holy symbol of Mercy, a simple set of Her wings dangling from a leather cord. Probably a spare she had.

"Oh Celeste," Rhys moaned softly. "You should have kept that. Maybe you could have spared yourself a lot of pain with it." I should probably return it to her. Once I'm back, that is. He opened a desk drawer to store the holy symbol. Clicking loudly, the talisman of Desire rolled into view. Gnashing his teeth, Rhys slammed the drawer shut and placed the holy symbol on his nightstand. He also tossed the picture scroll and lubricant into it. The healing draught he added to the others on his belt, stuffed the maps and books, along with some replacement clothing, into his satchel and armed himself. The dagger Galdor had given him went onto his hip, the larger, heavier weapon an unfamiliar but soothing presence. He strapped one of his old daggers to his shin and tied the collapsed battle staff to his belt.

Rhys was already halfway out the door as he remembered something. He returned to his desk. Amidst the books and maps, he found the bag of coins Thurguz had given him. He added the bag to his other belongings in the satchel and left for the common room. Plans needed to be made. And his stomach decided to make itself heard.

* * * *

... to be continued in Chapter VIII - Breaking Point

I hope you liked this twisted little fantasy of mine. Even if you didn't, let me know. Vote and/or comment. I enjoy the praise but improvement can only occur when I know what displeased you.

Thanks for your time.

(c)Blind_Justice 2019