Circle of Stone (reprieve)

Tain and the Druid were almost the last to enter the hall, only Canthiss, Ironfang and Grande himself were still absent. They were led in a side door through a wide corridor that from the smells wafting down it was connected somewhere at the other end to the kitchens.

Much to Tains disbelief and disgust whilst the nobility were seated along the sides of a massive wooden table that dominated the centre of the hall, they were directed to a smaller table that sat off to the side of the main table in an alcove.

And it was only by moving the seats, which the servants frowned at but did not hinder, that Tain ensured they were not also sitting with their backs to the main table.

The double doors at the far end of the hall opened and Ironfang and Canthiss entered. Canthiss nodded to Tain and the Druid as he passed them by but the Baron did not acknowledge them. They took their seats at the main table, near the head Tain noted but not at it. Only two men sat closer but they had their backs to Tain and he could not see their faces only the long, shiny black hair that fell lose about their shoulders.

Many of those present seemed to be scribes, most of the nobles - those who could afford them at least- seemed to have brought at least one scribe and at least one advisor and without knowing who any of them were Tain was not sure who was a noble and who was not.

The main doors opened again and this time Duke Grande himself entered, he was flanked by two other men who when Grande took his seat at the top of the table remained standing silently either side of him.

“Welcome all to my home,” Grande began in traditional fashion, “As you will all by now be aware Prince Mekhal has been taken captive by personages unknown. I can now add to that. Prince Kell reports that he has received a ransom demand, payable by tomorrow at sunset on forfeiture of Prince Mekhals life.”

“How much has the ransom been set at?” asked one of the men immediately to Grande’s left. He rose to his feet when he spoke but as his back was still to Tain and the Druid they could not see his face. The voice however was deep and melodious.

“It is of no matter Duke Ela-Gor,” Grande answered sharply, “Prince Kell has returned the message saying that the Throne of Futura does not bow to blackmail and threats.” Grande let this sink in a moment.

Another man stood, he was short and wiry with a touch of red in his hair, “What of the Barbarians amassing to the north? A vacant throne leaves us weakened, is that mere coincidence?” he demanded to know.

“You speak the truth Baron Hiltok and is my belief because of this, at this time we cannot lead an army north across the border. Not whilst we are leaderless, but nor should we presume these matters are necessarily linked.”

Ela-Gor rose again, “Is not Prince Kell our rightful leader at this time?” he asked.

“Aye,” agreed another noble further down the table, a stocky man with a hard blunt face, “Why are there no representatives of the Crown present? I will take no part in a conspiracy,” he said rising and thumping his fist on the table.

“We are not conspirators Baron Martik. We are however the nobility of Futura and with us lies her security and her future,” Grande responded firmly, “I have not asked Prince Kell here because there are charges of conspiracy to treason laid against him.”

“That is a very serious charge indeed,” Martik responded, “What treason? And who makes such a claim?”

“I do, Duke Martik,” Ironfang said rising to his feet, his frame casting a shadow in the lamplight across half the table length, “I offer the proof of my own eyes and give you the word of an Ironfang. Which none before in our long history have ever found cause to doubt or challenge.”

He took in their faces, sweeping his penetrating gaze upon each man and all either blanched or cast their eyes down and none did challenge his words, “First let me say that I also accuse baron Erwin. Erwin, appointed by Prince Kell. Who is there now in the whole realm closer to the prince than he? Yet what do we really know of him? This Baron from another land,” he paused.

“Not being born of Futura does not make him a traitor,” Ela-Gor said and several other nobles grumbled sounds of agreement.

“No, it does not,” conceded Ironfang, “But colluding with the Barbarians who now threaten our border does. And this I have seen him do with my own eyes.”

This was met by a shocked silence as the nobles digested the implications.

“I have brought with me those who also witnessed this treason and whom I hear call upon as my witnesses,” Ironfang indicated Tain and the Druid, “Should any have cause to doubt my word alone.” He glared round the table but no one tried to match his eye.

Tain stood and all eyes turned towards him. He seized the opportunity to not just stand but to come right up to the main table.

The Druid remained seated, content to let Tain tell the story and to observe.

Tain strode up to the head of the table until he was standing next to Grande. If he was going to address these people he was going to do it face to face not from a corner like some child and he was going to take the opportunity to tell some home truths.

“Tell us what you saw in your own words and as best as you can manage?” Grande prompted Tain, as might a teacher an idiot schoolboy in lessons. Tain bristled.

“I’ll tell you what I see,” Tain began, squaring up to Futuras collected nobility, “You’ve a hostile force growing daily on your northern borders, your next in line to the throne has been kidnapped and is most likely already dead. Prince Kell is poised to take power and the man he made a Baron and keeps council with, your traitorous Erwin, is in alliance with the Barbarians who threaten you,” he paused.

All around the table angry, disgruntled faces and unhappy rumblings came from the assembled nobles but Tain was not deterred, “So much then for your nobility,” he suddenly slammed both hands down hard on the tabletop, “Wake up Barons and Dukes of Futura! Your kingdom is slipping out from under your grasp and yet you refuse to see it."

“You speak out of turn,” Ironfang snapped rising.

“But he speaks honestly as he sees it,” Ela-Gor said coming unexpectedly to Tain's aid.

Duke Ela-Gor, now Tain could see his face, was a full blood Elf. Tain looked into his eyes. They had no whites but were clearly a pale green, much more vivid and noticeable than in the Druids eyes and his skin was a deep shade of olive. This kingdom was full of surprises. It explained the melodious accent at least.

Standing the elf said, “I am Duke Ela-Gor. Welcome to our table. Both of you. Please, take seats as my guests.”

Tain glanced at Duke Grande but this seemed to be all quite proper by whatever protocols they operated on as there was no dissension even if there was clear displeasure on many faces.

Tain took one of the empty seats further down the table with an acknowledging nod to Duke Ela-Gor. The Druid also got up from the small table and sat down beside Tain, she exchanged a look with the elf and the Duke noted the green sheen in her eyes with a curious look in his own. Tain risked a glance at Ironfang who simply looked furious.

“Give us your name stranger and where you hail from?” Grande
instructed Tain.

Tain stood to reply, as that seemed to be the form, “I’m called Tain and I hail from Stenor.”

“And you travelled all the way here to challenge how we rule?” Grande questioned.

“I speak my mind. These events are clearly pieces in a much larger picture; Erwin’s appointment and his ceremonies, the Kings death, the Barbarians, and now this kidnapping- these are years in the planning. These aren’t things that have been dreamt up on a whim. You’ve been outmanoeuvred. Allowing the younger son to all but rule whilst you were content to let a King you knew was enfeebled sit upon the throne. Whilst the heir you indulged in his fancy of the sea rather than making him attend to the rule of the land. You would rather preserve the traditions of the kingdom than act against them, even when it’s in your own best defence,” many round the table were clearly not happy at his words which only encouraged him. “What’s the purpose of the nobility of Futura?” he went on questioningly, “If it has one, is it not to act in the best interests of her people? All around you your kingdom stagnates and rots. You can ill afford to sleep any longer.”

Ela-Gor stood first in response, asking, “What then would you say we should do?”

“Fortunately,” Tain replied with a smile sitting back down, “That’s not for me to decide.”

“No,” Ironfang said rising like a storm cloud to his feet, “It is not.”

This received a few supportive calls of, "Hear, hear,” from one or two of the other nobles who had been less than pleased with Tains summing up of their position.

“We must first deal with the Barbarian threat,” Baron Hiltok persisted, “they are our immediate threat, not Baron Erwin, or even Prince Kell, who cannot ascend to the throne sooner than tradition allows. We must confront the forces amassing on our border.”

“I will not send my men so far north,” Grande said stubbornly, “and it is difficult terrain, ripe for ambush and may conceal many more of their number yet unknown to us. We could be dragged into a war that could last months, taking us deep into winter to which these northern tribes are better suited than we. If they were to dare cross the border onto the open plain that would be another matter,” he added in a more conciliatory tone.

“By then it might be too late,” Ela-Gor insisted.

Grande looked angrily at the Duke. Tain could see that there was clear dislike between the two, there was a history there that sparked between their eyes though it was Grande who blanched first turning from the green eyes of Ela-Gor to the dark penetrating eyes of Ironfang in search of support, “What say you to this Baron Ironang? How does Northolt speak?”

Ironfang realized he was in a crucial moment in time here, for centuries his family had hidden themselves away but not any longer if he had anything to do with it. Power was up for grabs here if he backed the right side. Ela-Gor and Grande were the only two real contenders for the throne if it were to become available, which looked increasingly likely. The Ironfangs had the stature but not the wealth, yet. He made his choice.

“I believe Duke Grande is correct,” he said eventually, “We cannot afford to take pre-emptive military action whilst the throne is still unclear. We know not how Prince Kell would receive such a decision nor how the Kings commanders would react to it. If we move without authority who knows how the Royal Army may respond? It is to close to treason,” he said, “I side with Duke Grande, we have no choice but to wait and see if they dare cross our border.”

Grande then went on around the table taking the votes one by one. Tain and the Druid of course did not get a vote though they both would have favoured Ela-Gors position if they had been asked.

Unfortunately without their input the vote narrowly went Grande’s way. It was clear Ela-Gor commanded a great deal of respect but that Grande was in the more powerful position and the Ironfang name it seemed carried weight also.

A messenger entered through the main doors and approached the head of the table. He whispered in the Dukes ear. Grande whispered something back and nodded and the man exited.

“It seems that the Port Guard has apprehended an associate of Baron Erwin. The prisoner claims he can reveal to us Prince Mekhals current whereabouts,” Grande informed them. An interested murmur went around the table at this news.

Oh I will give it a go Azriel- but I have realistic expectations given the amount of books written versus the amount published and versus the amount which are then successful.

Be realistic Petty, I know your NOT a stupid man ! But, you never know ! sometimes the journey towards a goal can be fun in its self ?! and THATS worth treasuring.

That's way to cheerful and optimistic for me Azriel!
But I always enjoy the journey a lot more than the destinations- Im not so good at destination but aimless wandering and taking in the sights and finding pleasure in all I encounter along the way- Im a master of that. Its just not the most succesful strategy in the modern world sadly where you are expected to be something or to be in the process of becoming something- Im happier just left to be.

Maybe you are right, you have to be comfortable in your own skin ! Its gotten a way to materialistic world now, I think sometimes Sights are set to high, & unless you are top of the food chain,then, you are the food. Mind you, I like the sound of Rambling! The unexpected "find" along the way! appreciation of things other people miss, either they are to blind, selfish,stupid or greedy to see. May the heather between yer toes forever smell sweet !

There are days I despair at humanity and then something happens, can be something a ssimple as getting together with the neighbours to go out and prepare the veg patch for this years planting, or making a huge pot of soup and sharing it out amongst the older folk in the street who might be living alone- community is alive and well where it is allowed to be, people want to help one another,and I do believe most people are good people, its the system we live in screws it up.

You may have noticed there is an element of this view in the character of Tain who has a basic struggle between how he knows things can be and how they actually are.

Oh yes ! I agree with all you say ! & I did feel that in Tain. "We" all need to keep the flag of humanity flying, for as long as possible, & not let the Hierachy press us into the dirt,(where they think we belong)

This is why I want to smash Cameron in the face when he goes on about the Big Society- you cant have a Big Society if all your policies are ripping apart the small communities that make it up. He hasnt a clue what real community is.

A Captain entered with a thin man in shackles, Tain recognized him immediately; it was one of the two men he had seen in the Inn standing at the bar.

“Another coincidence?” he whispered to the Druid, “he was in the inn, celebrating.”

“I fear you and I are no longer in the realm of coincidences,” she whispered back with a worried frown.

The Captain dragged the man forward towards the table and threw him to the ground in a routine kind of way, introducing the captive by saying, “Ramus, a known thief, your lordships.”

“If I am you've never caught me at it,” Ramus responded defiantly from the ground.

The Captain responded with a kick, “I didn't say you weren't a good thief, but your still a thief for all that,” turning back to the nobles he went on in the tones of an official making a report, “Following questioning he confessed to helping gain passage for Baron Erwin aboard a Dominian ship, later involved in the kidnap of the Crown Prince,” the Captain said stiffly and stood at attention and waited for their response.

“Stand,” Grande commanded Ramus, which the thin man did painfully, (although Tain thought he was probably exaggerating it the man had clearly been dealt some beatings recently), “This man is injured Captain,” Grande pointed out.

“Yes Duke,” the Captain confirmed. Then when this did not seem enough added, “We have been questioning him since yesterday,” he said by way of further explanation.

Grande simply nodded in acceptance of this and asked Ramus, “If you arranged for the ship, thief, you must know where they were sailing to. Yes?”

“That I do your lordships,” Ramus replied, the look on his face as he took in all the Barons and Dukes staring at him was as if all his worst nightmares had suddenly come true. He found he could suddenly say nothing but instead just stared blankly at them gulping.

“Well thief, to where were they sailing?” Grande eventually prompted impatiently.

“The Isle of Scillian, your lordships,” Ramus forced out.

There were gasps and comments along the lines of, “No one would sail there, surely,” and “madness” around the table and one of “Where?” from Tain.

“For those who do not know of it,” Grande said looking at Tain and the Druid, “That Isle lies some hundred and eighty miles off the coast. It has an ill name, we do not sail south. No sailor would go within a mile off it let alone land upon it,” he turned back to Ramus and demanded, “How then did you persuade the captain? What did Baron Erwin offer him?”

“Nothing beyond a generous payment, I swear it,” Ramus responded finding his tongue, “But it was all a bit, peculiar your lordships,” he went on, “At first the Captain, 'e was dead against it see, which is what I expected, I mean who would sail there? Right? But then the very next day ‘e comes back and says 'e changed his mind, just like that, see. 'E didn't even try to 'aggle. Well, I asked no more questions, just counted my blessings as I'd thought it was going to be a right bugger to get anyone to take it on, as your lordship was saying.”

“This man is a liar as well as a thief,” the Captain warned, “I would not put to much stock in what he says. I will get the truth from him in time, one way or the other.”

“Yes,” Tain piped up from the end of the table, “you get much more reliable information when you’re kicking it out of them.”

“I think we have heard enough,” Grande said raising his right hand palm outwards, “You have confessed to aiding Baron Erwin in the kidnapping of a Crown Prince of the Realm and procuring illegal passage. However as you have volunteered your information freely,” here Grande was interrupted by a derisory snort from Tain which he ignored, going on, “and were not directly involved in the offence of kidnapping we will commute the sentence of death. Remove one of his hands as a warning. Your choice as to which Captain. Take him away.”

“Wait,” Ramus squealed, “'e said I would be set free if I told you what I know, see?” Ramus pleaded indicating the Captain.

“Well I lied,” the Captain sneered at him, “its funny the bad habits you pick up dealing with your type. Get moving.”

“Hold on,” Tain said, standing, “What exactly has he done wrong?”

“I have given the charges,” Grande responded.

“Charges? If this man responds blindly and jumps at every order given by a nobleman then it’s your own fault, for you’ve bred that vice into him. Which of you has not, aided no doubt by some servant, snuck to a ladies bedchamber or to a house of ill repute? And you would’ve no more expected the servant to challenge you than this man did Baron Erwin.” He had the satisfaction of seeing a few shamed faced looks around the table. There always were.

“Very well,” Grande sighed, “Captain, throw this wretch back where you found him. If he crosses your path again, carry out my former punishment.”

With many a “thank you my lordships,” Ramus was removed from the room.

Grande now addressed Tain and the Druid in general, but Tain in particular, “I believe we have heard enough from you also. We have all we need to make our judgments. You may leave us now. We thank you both for your attendance.”

“You’re throwing us out?” Tain asked incredously.

“I am asking you to leave now your duty is fulfilled,” Grande said pleasantly, “This is no place for those who are not noble born to Futura.”

“I’ve one last question then before I leave, if you’ll permit it?” Tain implored, he really wanted to know the answer to it and was sure Grande had one. It would be nice to have at least one question answered out of all those he had.

“Very well, ask your question,” Grande relented.

“The man we followed to the docks, who helped kidnap the Prince. The people at the docks knew him. The Prince knew him. You said people unknown kidnapped Prince Mekhal. Yet you’ve not mentioned this man. Who is he?”

Grande visibly sagged a little, when he responded his voice was thick and resentful, “His name is Cloewyn. He has been Cleric to my family for more than twenty years. No other had more trust than that which I gave to him. It seems it was misplaced and that I greatly misjudged. There, you have your answer, now leave us.”

Grudgingly they stood and left. Tain thinking as he did so that whenever he did get a straight answer it always seemed to lead to a mess of new questions. They pointedly exited through the double doors this time, not the servants’ entrance. It led through into a high, wide corridor that led in turn straight to the front doors.

“Thanks for backing me up in there,” Tain said sarcastically to the Druid as they left the Keep side by side.

“There did not seem to be anything for me to say, we will be driven where we are driven, have faith,” she replied as they approached the bridge under which the Norath poured itself into the sea.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Tain responded darkly.

I am only reading it if I can have it in book form btw, what is it abot?

Its a good old fashioned traditional fantasy story Norc, but hopefully though with a more modern feel to the tale itself.
Gods, magic, and a small group of people who dont really get on caught up and drawn into larger events and having to try and save the day. With a touch of mystery/puzzle things out to it.

And a dash of Who, Tolkien, Adams, Pratchett, Orwell, H G Wells, Casteneda, Crowley and Star Trek(up to DS9) influencing it (at least when I read it back those are the more obvious influences I spot).

And more uniquely a cast of real live people who altered the story as it developed by making all the decisions on what their character would do in those circumstances.
Im responsible for the world, the story and for writing it all down, but I didnt have any control over what the characters in the story do.

hm.. sounds interesting you should get it published

Do you know anything about how to make an ebook Norc?
Or am I going to have to put onto my list of things I really should find out more about myself, alongside learning how to use Blender properly.

Blender? what do you need a blender for?

crushing used dog ends to make new roll ups !

They choose to walk back through the Port rather than take a carriage. It was late evening and a brisk sea breeze blew in from the docks swirling up the dust from the streets. They found it refreshing after the still air of Grande’s hall.

It took them another hour by a meandering route before they were being admitted through the front door by Ironfangs staff. They decided to wait up in the downstairs parlour for the Barons return.

It was a further four hours later before they heard the rattle of the carriage drawing up outside the house. Its door opened, slammed shut and footsteps approached the front door crunching in the gravel whilst the clip of the horse could be heard as it and the carriage were withdrawn to the stables for the night.

The door to the parlour opened and Ironfang entered followed by Canthiss.

“You should get an early night,” Ironfang said to them bluntly upon entering.

“Why?” asked Tain.

“Because we sail with the turn of tide just before sun-up,” Ironfang replied.

“We’re going to rescue the Prince?” Tain said.

“If he lives. Only he can prevent his brother taking the throne and throwing the kingdom into turmoil, so we must try,” the Baron confirmed, “Duke Grande is sending a ship and a platoon of his best men. I am to serve as their Commanding Officer, you as my, advisors,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Your advisors,” Tain said stifling a laugh.

“You have Canthiss to thank for that,” the Baron said with a face that clearly was not happy about the decision.

“Well thank you for your kind consideration. What else did you decide,” Tain pressed, “What of Prince Kell and Baron Erwin?”

“No move will be made against the throne, it is treason. Prince Kell will not breach the state tradition of one month of mourning. He is of no threat until then and much we may put in motion before that day. As for Erwin, he is no longer a Baron of the Realm; he has been stripped of that title and of his lands.”

“Can the nobility do that without the agreement of the throne? I thought Erwin was Prince Kell's favourite pet Baron,” Tain said.

“Whilst the throne is empty yes, we have that power. He will have to answer the charges.”

“And to whom do his lands revert?” Tain questioned with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous grin that he was failing to prevent creeping out the corner of his mouth.

“That is a matter of state and does not concern you,” Ironfang said pulling what Tain had come to think of as his ‘stone face’ which was a solid blank stare the Baron put on whenever he meant the discussion was over.

“Fine,” Tain replied raising his hands, "I you don;t want to talk I’ll simply bid you all a good night and retire to bed,” and with that he left the room.

“I believe Tain has the right idea,” the Druid agreed, “I too bid you both a good night,” and she too left.

They had been given a large guest room on the upper floor to share that had four single beds in it and was normally used by the servants of visiting guests.

The Druid sat on the edge of her bed and drew her flask out from her backpack.

“Where does that stuff keep coming from?” Tain laughed, “Have you got a still hidden in there?”

“This truly is the last so do not waste it,” the Druid replied seriously, cracking open the top and taking a drink. She passed it to Tain.

“Well, things have moved fast since first we met in the marsh,” she mused, “And to think I only came to this kingdom to explore its fauna.”

“I guess you’re just following the Pulse of the Gods then,” Tain replied taking a large gulp from the bottle, it really was amazing how quickly you got used to the stuff considering it had nearly choked him on the first occasion.

“And tomorrow we are off onto the open sea, what next I wonder?” she pondered fetching out her pipe.

“This Pulse of the Gods thing?” Tain began slowly, lying back on his bed so he was staring at the ceiling, a position in which he invariably could think better- when it did not make him fall asleep.

“Yes?” the Druid responded busily filling her pipe and searching around for where she had set down her flint.

“Can it make people act against their will, or against their nature?” Tain asked.

“I am not sure I understand your question,” she replied still searching for her flint, “Ahh-ah,” she said triumphantly as she discovered she had been sitting on it all along.

“What I mean,” Tain went on, “what’s bothering me is Grande’s Cleric. Twenty years the family Cleric then one day, bang, he goes crazy and kidnaps the Crown Prince. And why did he go all the way to Domina just to meet me and send me here?”

“Ah!” the Druid said round the stem of her pipe, “So that is what is bothering you. It is a puzzle, one I am afraid only he can answer. It does show that this has all been in the planning for a long, long time.”

“It’s as if,” Tain said, “there’s something which is causing people to behave, well, wrong,” he stopped again to think about it. There was something else that was striving to rise to his conscious mind, a nagging sensation, he deliberately ignored it and let it brew.

“I do not think that is the Pulse of the Gods,” the Druid said, “It does not work in such a fashion. It cannot cheat with reality.”

“What do you mean?” Tain asked.

“I mean, say the Powers decreed that it was in accordance with Divine Will that a particular city should burn. Events would still have to occur in their natural way. A fight may break out in which a lantern is overturned; a careless baker leave his ovens unattended. In the case of people even if you yourself were chosen by the gods they could but persuade a situation to occur. It could not force you against your nature to sacrifice an infant to a god. Erwin’s personality must have leant towards butchery to begin with. I do not see how the Barbarians or this Cleric could be compelled to act against their natures.”

“The Barbarians!” Tain exclaimed suddenly leaping up from the bed and grabbing his backpack which he tipped out onto the covers. His nagging sensation had emerged into full realization, “I knew there was something I was forgetting,” he said excitedly.

“What are you looking for?”

“Something I’ve not had time to think about,” Tain replied, “Ahha!” he said and pulled something out from among a bundle of loose shirts. He held it up for her to see. It was a leather pouch on the end of a narrow leather strap “I took it from around the neck of one of the Barbarians. I think they were all wearing them.”

“What is in it?” she asked coming over from her own bed to get a better look at it and taking the opportunity to swap the pipe for the bottle.

“I’ve no idea,” Tain said, accepting the pipe, “There was so much else going on at the time I forgot about it almost soon as I got it. Let's find out.”

He sat down the pipe and lifted the flap of the leather pouch; it was no more than a couple of inches long and about one deep. From within it Tain cautiously withdrew a folded piece of parchment; it was slightly yellowed, probably from being pressed up against the leather. Cautiously in case it should tear he unfolded it on the bed. It was inscribed in a flowing script which he read aloud;


And at the bottom written in red or possibly even blood, it was difficult to tell as it had darkened over time, there was a scrawled ‘X’.

“These characters are commonly used by many peoples, but I don’t know the language. Do you?” Tain asked the Druid.

“No, if it is even a language, it may be a code,” she suggested taking the parchment and examining it. It seemed in no way unusual but she knew that not everything was available to the eye. There were she was aware different means by which a person could be remotely manipulated, indeed she knew of potions and unction’s for just such a purpose -but they were druid means.
There were others with power that had different methods. She sat down the bottle and took the parchment firmly between both her hands and closed her eyes, her face becoming blank.

Tain drew on the pipe, topping up the herb from the Druids pouch, realizing she was doing something unnatural he decided it best to sit it out till she had finished. It did not take long. She opened her eyes.

“Well?” Tain inquired.

“This,” she said holding up the mysterious letter, “Is a completely normal piece of parchment.”

Tains shoulders sagged, “What about the pouch,” he said with a sudden thought picking it up and handing it to her.

She took it in her hands and again closed her eyes. A second later she hurled the pouch across the room and fell backwards off the bed as if punched.

It caught Tain completely by surprise and he barely had enough time in which to reach out to stop the last flask of homebrew from being knocked over and broken.

The Druid hit the floor with a thud as he steadied the flask. “Are you all right?” he called over the bed, “What just happened?”

She emerged from the floor behind the bed looking shocked, “There is something inside that pouch,” she said with a trembling voice. Her face was pure white.

Cautiously Tain crossed the room to where the pouch had fallen. She had thrown it with enough force that it had bounced of the wall. Tain looked down at it were it lay, it was a simple leather pouch on a thin strap and it did not look demonic. He picked it up and again opened it. This time he lifted the flap and turned it upside down; nothing.

He gave it a shake and tapped the bottom of it. The Druid was staring in fascinated horror from the other end of the room and actually jumped when something small and hard fell from the pouch and bounced on the floor with a gentle thud.

“Now what’ve we here?” Tain said bending down to look at it.

“Do not touch it,” she warned taking a few hesitant steps closer, “What is it?”

Tain knelt down as close as he dared. The object was very small. Shaped a little like a small piece of flint, it was dark in colour.

“Well, what have we got here? The Pebble of Doom?”

“I am not kidding around here Tain,” she hissed seriously.

“Well, it’s a stone, just a stone,” Tain reported in unimpressed tones, “Hardly a harbinger of death.”

He leant a little closer to the object; there was something about it that drew him in, a hint of light deep within the black. He thought he could feel a slight heat from it as he brought his eye down level to the floor. Yes, there was definitely a sparkle to it deep within if he strained closer to see. As he drew closer the stone began to vibrate gently, humming against the floorboards.

Dreamlike, fascinated by its hidden spark he reached out to pick it up. He was drawn firstly by the inner lights and then by the seemingly endless depths contained in its blackness. Behind him the Druid was calling out his name but although he heard the sounds they had no meaning to him. Feeling as if he were moving in slow motion he reached out to pick it up.

The Druid kicked him, hard. He was knocked rolling across the floor, the wind knocked from him.

Before he could stand or even begin cursing properly she snatched up the parchment and holding one corner of it in the bowl of her pipe she puffed fiercely on the other end. In a second the dry parchment was ablaze, she threw it to the ground and let it burn out to ash.

There was a hot, bright flash from the stone, still on the floor and it vanished leaving a large blackened patch on the stone flagons. Her face relaxed to a placid blank and once more she closed her eyes.

Rubbing his left side, which was where she had caught him, and breathing heavily in long whistles Tain stood up. He was perfectly aware that he had very nearly done something stupid but he was not sure why or what had compelled him.

The Druids eyes snapped open and refocused on the normal world as Tain stood. “It is over,” she said simply “If I am not mistaken that was the same sort of stone the circle beneath the mountain was constructed from.”

“What do you mean it’s over?” Tain said, “What’s over and what did you do and did you have to kick me in the kidneys?” he asked all at once.

“I guessed that the writing was an incantation of some kind, when you read it aloud you activated the stone, they work in conjunction with one another and it may also serve as a pact of some sort. By destroying one I disempowered the other, or so it seems. Whatever it was doing it is not doing it anymore,” she indicated the blackened remains, “As for your kidneys; well it was them or your face, or worse.”

“Fair enough,” Tain conceded with a wince sitting down on the edge of his bed,

They slumped down on seperate beds, Tain yawned and extinguished the lamp. Only the glow of the fire and the embers in the Druids pipe could be seen in the dark. They became aware after awhile as they lay there of the sound of raised voices coming from downstairs.

One was definitely Ironfang and they eventually realised the other was Canthiss. They were both obviously angry by the tone of it and though the words were never quite spoken loud enough or clear enough to distinguish individually the pattern of a rollicking good arguement was unmistakable. It lasted some hour or so whilst Tain and the Druid lay in the dark trying to sleep and at the same time stay awake long enough to eavesdrop on the ruckus. It ended abruptly with the slamming of the front door.

I am a bit worried about the 'cast of real live people' bit.

I keep them in the basement under my barrrel. Well, I call it a basement its really just a big hole.... under the toilet.

why doesnt that surprise me?

yeah but really?

I am not buckied, well I am but not more than usual - there was a Tain, a Druid, a Baron, a Canthiss and this is their story.

yeah but are they real? my chockies have liquor in them and its making me squiffy and lose hold on reality. fantasy and reality is blending and melding and folding in a gigglesom maelstrom

Yes in the sense that I created a world, a setting, an over all story in terms of what had been happening in that world up to that time.
But the real people, roleplaying (not the saucy sort!) as those characters made all the decisions in every situation, at each turn altering how the story unfolded and the world was effected.
So if a character does something brilliant, a real person came up with that brilliant idea playing as that character, likewise if they do something stupid.
They created and made those characters, I had little to do with that save a bit of guidance. And each character also of course reflects the real person to a degree.

Im still reading, the flow is even & uninterrupted, the characters dialogue bounces back & forth believably, not stuttered. I like the atmosphere thats been set & its leaving me wanting more !

Pettytyrant101 wrote:Do you know anything about how to make an ebook Norc?
Or am I going to have to put onto my list of things I really should find out more about myself, alongside learning how to use Blender properly.

two things to remember Petty.

1. remember the lid.
2. don't stick you hand in it if somethings stuck unless you've turned it off and/or unplugged it.

um meant to post this last night as its the end of the last chapter, but, well, there was buckie involved....



Tain was awoken by the apologetic voice of one of Ironfangs servants informing him it was almost dawn. He peered over the top of his bed sheets at the dark room; he felt as if he had only just closed his eyes. The embers in the fire were still burning.

The Druid, always a better riser than Tain, was already up and in the light of the servants lamp was crossing the room to open the window that faced the rising sun.

Tain dressed whilst she performed her prayers. Glancing passed his companions bowed head Tain could see that the sun was not yet up, all was still dark outside.

When she had finished they went downstairs together bringing their packs with them and were shown into the front parlour. Breakfast had been laid out on a table for them; there was no sign of the Baron or Canthiss.

As they were finishing their meal they heard the rattle of the carriage being brought up to the front of the house outside the parlour window. The horses’ occasional whinny seemed loud in the quiet morning. A few moments later Ironfang entered the room. “It is time, the ship sails within the hour,” he informed them.

“What is the hour?” Tain asked yawning, “It’s dark yet outside.”

“The fifth bell of day has sounded; the tide is beginning to turn.”

They followed the Baron outside where he clambered into the carriage. The driver and a young boy took Tain and the Druids packs and stored them on the roof. They entered behind the Baron, Tain slamming the surprisingly heavy oak door closed behind him.

“Is Canthiss joining us at the dock?” Tain enquired when he entered and found only the Baron. It occurred to him that this was probably the first time he had ever seen the Baron without Canthiss by his side.

“Canthiss has returned to Northolt on my orders,” Ironfang said, his face revealing nothing, “With the Barbarian threat in the north I must have a commander on the ground I can trust as I would myself,” he said with undue fierceness as if repeating an arguement he had recently used.

“And he went willingly?” Tain commented as innocently as he could, “I mean he always seemed so keen to protect your person, or so it seemed to my mind.”

“You would do well to remember." Ironfang growled at him, "that you are only here because Canthiss recommended it. He is no longer here I suggest you keep your thoughts to yourself if you also wish to remain here,” Ironfang said ending the conversation. He hammered the underside of the carriage roof and it jerked into motion.

The docks were surprisingly active at this early hour as the carriage pulled up onto them. The further quays it seemed were used for the mooring of fishing vessels, a multitude of which were either queuing to dock or queuing to sail. Massive nets of shining silver fish were being hauled out on the dockside and taken to the nearby Markets whose traders were already deep into their busy day.

The ship they were to sail on was unmistakable, even to Tain who could barely tell a galleon from a barge, it was clearly not a warship. Duke Grande was a merchant to his core and his ship was designed to haul goods not fight in wars. It was low in the water and wide, with a tall single mast. Most of it seemed to be hold.

A gangplank led up onto it and a group of soldiers stood at the bottom of it shouting at other soldiers who were taking provisions up on board. Horses were being unwillingly led up a gangplank at the rear.

They disembarked from the carriage and Ironfang dismissed it as soon as it was unloaded. He approached the Sergeant at the foot of the gangplank who was barking at the men taking the supplies aboard.

Tain looked with some unease at the ship moored in the dark -for the sun had still not yet appeared though there was a greyness now to the sky- most of the light around them came from the lamps set along the dock front and the ship was bobbing in a pool of yellow light. She creaked on the changing tide; the thick ropes holding her in dock going taut then slack then taut again with the swell.

Tain looked uncertainly at the motion of it; he was not keen on the idea of sailing. He felt ill just watching the motion of the hull.

The Sergeant saluted Ironfang and after a brief interchange they boarded the vessel. Ironfang left amide the clamour and organized chaos of ship preparations to go and search out the Captain leaving Tain and the Druid to find their own way to their quarters and deposit their packs.

The deck seemed to rise and dip unnervingly to Tain despite the fact they were still in dock; the Druid noticed his unease. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Do you know how many ships I’ve been on?” Tain said steadying himself against a nearby rail.

“No,” she replied.

“One,” Tain replied, “And that’s including this one. I don’t like the sea. I get sick in rowing boats. Why do you think I walked all the way from Stenor?”

“I never knew,” she commented.

“It’s never come up till now, which incidentally is probably what my breakfast is going to do as soon we get out on the open sea. Just to warn you,” Tain said with a weak smile, a large swell caused by the changing tide turning him green.

Around them whistles were blowing, ropes and gangplanks were being drawn in and a confusion of orders were being shouted. Men scampered up the rigging with no more trouble than Tain would take in walking across a room. He felt like throwing up just watching them.

A sailor approached them and saluted, they did not respond in like. He informed them that the Baron would be awaiting them in the Captains cabin in quarter of an hour; he also offered to direct them to their own accommodation aboard ship. They trailed after him, in Tains case unsteadily.

The sail unfurled above them and as the sun finally struggled up over the horizon the ship drew away from the dockside. Amid cries and whistles it sailed out onto the open sea.




End of another chapter- next up the mysterious Isle of Scillian!