Chapter 24: Connecting Lines

“We do this for those we care about. Why would that be a bad thing? I’ve never understood that, oh Great Father, you ask us to become strong to fight by your side. You ask us to become what the clan needs, but… Why do I question the words you have spoken? 

…I want to become what the clan needs me to be, I want to help raise ourselves. But, why does Yorm think all the clan needs is what we have now, why can’t we have more? 

 

Grant us yet another day.”

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting, D25. Ilgor

     Knoll was quick, bending back to avoid the blow. His sharp blade cut the strands of my hair that didn’t move fast enough. Eyes darting over to see Cori on the advance, spear leveled. Parrying it away, swiping her legs out from under her. Adrenaline thick in my veins, they weren’t holding back. 

     I tried to kick the spear away from her, Knoll smacked me aside with the flat of his blade. Tumbling through the air, managing to land on my feet. I heard something snap, didn’t matter, I had reflexively gotten into healing myself after sparring with the Sorcerer, broken rib not phasing me much. Pirouetting, my side screaming at me while I did so, knocking Cori off balance during her charge. The warmth of the magic around my rib, hot like fire.

     Saber coming up to catch Knoll’s ax, pulling him off balance, closing the distance. His eyes went wide, pulling the ax from his grip with the edge of the knife in my off hand. Thinking, “Loose the fingers or let go”. Shoving him hard into the direction of Cori. Her, misjudging, pushed the spear tip in the dirt to keep from impaling him. Knowing I could heal myself, Cori unwilling to risk Knoll, however.

     She tumbled with the momentum, a cloud of cold earth billowing out. Taking the opportunity to kick her in the side, trying to gain distance. “Keep them separate” I thought, they were too much, covering each other's defenses. She grunted hard, holding a rib I think I accidentally broke. I had to temper the frequency I was humming at, I had to remember this was just sparring, this wasn’t the Sorcerer. That madman said that control was a difficult art to master. Always wanting me at full force when we sparred. 

     I was in my head too much, Knoll grabbed my wrist in his iron grip. Twisting I dropped my saber to get away. Knife switching to the main hand, while Cori regained herself. Obviously in pain though, sweat drenched her brow, she threw her spear at me. Knoll charged, keeping his flank covered. 

     The humming in my throat changed pitch again forcing the magic to sharpen my focus, as I watched the spear tip come closer as time seemed to slow. Aware of Knoll coming at me, Catching the shaft of the spear, barely missing it. Leaning back, as Knoll swung at me in a wide horizontal strike. Using the spear as leverage, getting under him. Feeling a muscle pop as I threw him over me, my grunt interrupting my song. 

     A tangle of ears and beard, his shocked eyes stared down at me. He landed hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him. Wasn’t fast enough for Cori to grapple me though. She caught me in a tight arm lock.

     Twisting on my back, getting my feet under me. I hadn’t healed the muscle right away, feeling it tear as I put my weight into my thighs. Like I was lifting a boulder with my small finger.

     I screamed for a second, before the magic took effect. Much better than last time. Pulling Cori off the ground, the air under me trying to increase the pressure and lift. Working enough to break her grip on me, not well enough to have to immediately block a strike from the spear she retrieved. 

     I ducked the second swipe, kicking her knee out from under her, already feeling the welt on my forearm. She tried the same move I did, knocking me to the ground a few yards away. The wind out of my lungs, song stopped, my speed slowed down. She took her chance to rush me, quickly getting to her feet. 

     Still winded, already light headed, an idea. Sound… did it have to be my voice? Focusing on the loud pounding heartbeat in my ears, the steady thrum in my chest as the adrenaline rushed through. Cori moved in slow motion, eyes tracking me, seeing her shift her weight changing direction. 

     My speed returned, as the wind pushed me out of the way. Permeating my body with the weightlessness of a wind bourne leaf. I thought I was being clever with the direction of the wind, my ears didn’t even slap me in the face.

     While I still couldn’t breathe, it was barely enough to get behind her, throwing her backwards. She lay there, chest rising and falling in an exhausted pace. The lesson the Sorcerer had briefly talked about echoed in the back of my mind. “Sometimes you won’t have any air to work with…” Versatility, he was trying to teach me versatility with that…

     “Well done” She rasped breathlessly, “Illy!”

     I collapsed on the ground, trying to fill my lungs. Giddy smile on my face, “Yes, you finally beat us.” Knoll grunted, as he got up, rubbing his lower back. A nasty gash on his forehead where he landed hard on a stone. “Student to finally best the teachers! A truly wonderful feeling to be had!”

     The air finally found its way into my lungs. Though, still breathless, I choked out “Took long enough didn’t it?”

     “You have to teach us that thing” Cori said, getting up, leaning heavily on her spear “That thing you are doing with your voice. You’re like a leaf in a windstorm!”

     I couldn’t help but let a proud smile split my face, turning to see both Mother Kari and Ghet clapping softly. The steaming mugs of broth set at their feet. 

     The three of us walked over to join them, Cori grimacing as she sat down on the log. Only now did I notice the small patch of blood starting to soak through her heavy wool shirt. Briskly telling her to lift her shirt up so I could look at what damage I had done, red faced, she obeyed. 

     I had indeed broken a rib, only that it had angled wrong and punctured through her skin. I was amazed at her pain tolerance, though I was sad she had that though. I remembered throughout the years many of the raiders brushing off injuries that would have crippled humans. Frowning, I placed my hand over her heart, my other hand pushing the bone back into place.

     Cori broke out in a cold sweat the second I pushed on the bone. I wondered if I could ease pain by taking it away from the injury. Could I turn off the pain response while I did this? I could hear the warnings from the Sorcerer in my mind, could leave the area permanently numb, could cause nerve damage. I brought my magic around to the area, seeking out the nerves around her wound.

     She sighed deeply as I held the response shut while I popped the bone back into place. Allowing the magic to stitch new bone back together to fuse the two pieces. “Cori, bite down on something, I don’t know if this is going to hurt.” Knoll handed her his belt before I finished the sentence.

     Making sure she was biting down hard, before letting the magic go. She grunted loud enough to scare the birds out of the trees. Not the effect I thought would happen, wondering as I healed the broken skin, as to why the pain seemed to double after I let go. Maybe the mind not being ready for it made it seem worse even though it was the same amount of pain originally. I would need to rethink that option in the future.

     “I’m sorry Cori, I didn’t think that it would do that.” I lamented, looking up at her.

     “It’s alright Illy” She was pale, her usual green skin nearly white. Her breathing was heavy, phantom pain. I knew it was gone, but the mind sometimes took its time. “Thank you, Knoll. Sorry, bit through the leather.” 

     “All’s fair in love in war, it’s only a belt.” He grunted. 

     Ghet chimed in, ever the observant. “Why did you let your guard down after knocking Cori to the ground? If you had kept your stance and pivoted to meet Knoll's ax, you wouldn’t have lost your saber like that.”

     “I…” I started, but Mother kari cut in.

     “Ghet, you speak with decades of experience. Knoll has been doing this as long as you, and he’s still alive. Cori is fast and agile, of course she is going to choose to target the faster opponent than the slower one.” She said haughtily.

     “Oh I’m sorry Kari, I didn’t think you were on the front lines with us! I’m trying to get her to be more aware of the whole situation.” Ghet retorted. 

     Both the veterans barked at him at the same time. “Ghet! Watch your tone with Mother!” Kari only smacked him on the back of his head, a faint smirk on her face. 

     “Either way, I am proud of our girl here. Only in the holy book have I heard of one of our raiders moving with the grace of the wind. Ilgor,” She turned her attention fully to me again, the childish grin at her praise just wouldn’t leave my face. “Your voice is truly something that the clan needs.”

     Still riding the pride of my fight with Knoll and Cori, I wanted to hear the Sorcerer’s thoughts on it. I waited till sundown, Yvet had wanted to share a drink down at the tavern. We had spent the rest of the day after the sparring match enjoying the camaraderie with the other raiders. 

     The smell of alcohol, thick in the air of the tavern. The heavy cloth hanging from the mouth of the cave kept the slowly chilling air out. The warm glow of the lanterns burning low, the pleasant warmth as Yvet passed out, resting his head on my shoulder. Knoll was going on about some creature he had seen out in the Outerfields in his youth, Cori telling him it was only some crippled Basilisk. As usual, they got into an argument about the beast, but I smiled and laughed at their antics anyway. 

     So many memories having been built here, Ghet reading one of the simpler books I gave him. A child’s story about a mighty warrior saving a city, his lips moving noiselessly as he practiced reading common. Faintly smiling as I gently lifted Yvet’s head off me and set him down softly in his own chair. I gave my excuses for leaving, receiving the usual happy goodbyes.

     Donning my heavy poncho that Knoll had given me a few years back before I was a raider. I always liked the swirling colors, how that human sized garment reached all the way to my feet. I liked to wear it during the Seasons of Waiting, where it blocked the cold wind nicely. Making my way out of the village, I headed toward the Sorcerer and his camp.

     I found him creating a large sphere of warm air around the camp. Melting away the frosty ground as if it was the middle of the Season of Heat. He spoke before I was even close to the light of his lanterns. “The usual late night lesson? A bit later than usual this time, Priestess.”

     “I know, but I wanted to share something with you, maybe get something out of it.” I said through the darkness, stepping into the edge of the light. 

     “And just what is that thing you are wearing?” His laugh was discordant, those disgustingly sharp teeth poking through his lips. “A bit garish even for your people, really.”

     “You don’t have to be an asshole. It’s comfortable.” Retorting back, sitting down in one of the chairs he had set out. 

     “What did you want to discuss, Ilgor” Folding my arms, never an apology, or at least an admission of rudeness from him. 

     I began my story with the fight, and how I realized what he was talking about when he told me about not always having air to work with. I watched as his eyes darted around to the slowly swirling sphere of air. Ignoring him, thinking only that he was not paying attention to me. 

     Excitedly regaling him about how I used my heartbeat as the vector of sound to manipulate the air. Telling him how I was beginning to reflexively heal more complicated wounds that happened during fights. But, he still kept looking around, not at me. “What are you doing?” I asked him, dumping power into my voice to get his attention.

     The speed at which he snapped his attention to me was disturbing, almost as if many different eyes were looking at me.  Beneath his mask, eyes going wide. “Well, now that is interesting.”

***

     Her voice grabbed at my mind, wrenching it to her. My my my, how I haven’t felt such power since the time before The Dawn. Her level of fluidity and potency with her magic, no. I had to wait. If I just give her them now, she will be far too suspicious to use them the way I want her too. 

     “Well, now that is interesting,” I said, trying to sound bored. 

     “Why do you keep looking around, did you hear anything I said?” The little priestess spoke. 

     “You finally listened to me and thought outside the box during your fight. Yes, wonderful that you are capable of doing something so simple.” Her pale green face reddened with annoyance, though she did it again. Her emotions played with her lack of control over her Domain, disrupting my magic. 

     Watching as my nice warm ball of air rippled as her magic tried to override it. Truly a powerful caster she is to disturb my power. Considering what her species is, correction, was. I shouldn’t be surprised. “Priestess, we need to speak of how magic is controlled by intent.”

     “We already talked about this, you told me all that weeks ago.” She huffed, her annoyance playing with my magic again.

     “Intent both subconscious as well as intentional effect.” She might be dangerous in the future. I smiled as the others joined in my conversation, listening in. Wonderful! “Emotions can work against your intent. Your annoyance with me, your well deserved pride in your actions, they are interfering with my sphere of warm air. Focus, the magic pouring out of you is trying to match my frequency.”

     Her eyes widened as she focused inwardly, the outpouring of magic stopped immediately. “I didn’t know that could happen.” She spoke sheepishly. 

     “You say you have nightmares, that you sometimes use your power in your sleep without intending to. Same concept, only a bit more unpredictable while you are asleep. Controlling your emotions while using magic is important, as you gain more experience, you can focus your erant emotions into your spells. Much in the same way a song changes meaning with the way you say it, a spell can do different things depending on how you feel.” She nodded at my words.

“Be aware, a total loss of control can be… substantial.” 

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Harvest, D19. Ahmir

     The gentle rise and fall of the ship took getting used to. Having not been at sea for many years, Ahmir still stumbled across the deck more than he would have liked. Eventually making his way back to the Captain's quarters, holding onto the side of the doorway with white knuckles. “May I intrude?” He asked, face pale.

     Chuckling he responded, “You may, what do I owe the interruption, Advisor?”

     “Just wanted someplace where I can’t see the horizon rocking back and forth.” Ahmir answered, sitting quickly in a chair, keeping his eyes away from the windows. 

     “Stay as long as you need Advisor, everyone eventually gets their sea legs.” The Captain told him, returning to his charts. The scratching of his pen on the paper already soothing Ahmir’s seasickness. The clack of the sextant and ruler against the table reminding him of home. The scent of fresh cedar filling the room, he wondered about that a few weeks into the journey. Apparently, unbeknownst to Ahmir, cedar refused to rot in the damp sea air. Many of the rooms built into the ship used the wood extensively. 

     For a time, Ahmir merely sat with his eyes closed, trying to get used to the constant rocking of the open sea. The rush of water over the hull, the vibration of the engines as it thrummed on endlessly. Ahmir noticed a slight change, though he couldn’t place it right away.

     Opening his eyes, he noticed that the Captain had ceased his chartwork. “Advisor, If I may impose, what exactly is going to happen when we reach Galus?”

     “Well, I plan on brokering a treaty with the Federation,” Ahmir said, closing his eyes, his head spinning again. 

     “What do you plan on doing?” To many, this question would have raised suspicion. Ahmir had leveraged many different charter ships during the Rebellion. The Yellow Sands being one of many, that vied for the opportunity to ferry the Sultans Advisor on a diplomatic mission. Ahmir and the Captain had known each other since they were boys, only life had many different paths for all. 

     When Ahmir had seen that The Sands was on the list for the mission. Many of the other vessels were discounted, the Captain had been an important confidant to the Sultan and Ahmir, shepherding vulnerable citizens out of the Song of Bhal over the years before the Zybtine rose to power. 

     “Arash, I want to see if I can’t trade the Lamia outpost for a better trade network for an overland passage to Glaion. Those Lamia have never stopped being a problem, even after the Ramac fell. So, I plan on giving the outpost to Huron for this protected route.” Ahmir answered quickly, not exactly enjoying the spinning in his head. 

     “Still causing riots in the Song?” Arash folded his hands, leaning back in his chair.

     “Among many other things. Even after we purged many of the Ramacian influences, it never made them happy about the injustices to their people. To this day, they preach their rhetoric in the city squares, denouncing the Cult of Bhal as nothing more than a war mongering masquerade of brutal conquerors. They’ve caused nothing but political instability after we told them they couldn’t have their former positions in the state back.” He commented, thinking back to a recent discussion with the Sultan. 

     “I thought all that was sorted out. That the Caliphate reinstated their rights.” Captain Arash responded.

     “We did. We just agreed with the Ramac on a single issue, the rebellion didn’t want such a classist system like the Ilroi had. So, I never reinstated their positions in the government, they have full citizenship otherwise.” Ahmir said, covering his eyes with his hand. 

     Resting his elbows on the desk, Arash asked “So what does the Sultan actually do?” 

     Not liking the tone in his voice, Ahmir took a sterner approach. “He delegates his decrees and decisions to me based on all the information at hand.”

     “So he is nothing more than a figurehead, Advisor, I…” The Captain began.

     “No, he has all the power his position grants him. He is merely a single man, that is an impossible task to dictate every single action of governing a country on one person’s shoulders. I aid in his responsibilities to the people, though he seems to have taken an interest in his many ventures more than a vested interest in the people's needs.” Ahmir lamented. 

     “What do you mean?” 

     “About his ventures? When the Galus government propped up our rebellion in the Caliphiti War, the Sultan took an interest in how Galus ran their economy. He started up a few companies hoping to help out the Song of Bhal, but the depression that hit the city ended up being more substantial. He was able to drag the economy out of that, his companies in manufacturing and shipping ventures are the largest companies now anyway. They take up much of his time.” Ahmir explained. 

     “Isn’t there a bit of conflicting interests then? That doesn’t make me think our Sultan has our best interests at heart, Advisor.” Arash's frown deepened as he folded his arms once more. 

     “There is, I’ll grant you that. Though my team and I help him keep his business interests out of the political side of it. Much like how the King of Galus has that merchants guild overseeing his economic side of politics. Lucas, try as he may, can’t keep his wineries out of the political spheres.” He tried to soothe the Captain’s irritation, he knew he said too much. 

     “Hmm, then Ahmir, how did you gain such a trusted position with the Sultan?” He asked, still angry, though resting back in his chair. 

     “I was one of the rebellion leaders, you know this. In the beginning I was the Sultan’s superior. I was contacted by Lucas a year into the war, discussing how it would be best to disrupt the Caliphate from within. We suffered under the Ramac’s rule as much as the Lamia did, us being a much more tolerant sect of the Cult. They instituted high tithes from us at all times, trying to starve us out of house and home.”

“I am more of a background type, I don’t enjoy the spotlight. Though, the Sultan is a different story. He enjoyed it, excelled in it, he was able to win the hearts of the people as we received aid for Galus for the effort. When the time came, he was the banner they followed, not me.”

“When the Huronian Sage broke their army, our contact with Galus barged into the base with the news. He was more than able to stage our coup with a perfect synchronicity. What we didn’t expect was just how willing the rest of the city was to aid the Sultan in his efforts. It truly made it all too easy to take what was best for the people, Captain.” 

     “So the set up with Mhuzelt and his shipping company?” The captain tried.

     “After that whole explanation, and you want to know something like that?” Ahmir asked incredulously, eyeing Arash. 

     “I’m digesting the information, I’m curious about the connection. Mhuzelt had a blockade and embargo on us for years, even after the war. So, yes. I am curious about it.” 

     The Advisor huffed, still trying to ease away his sea sickness, closing his eyes. “I’ll tell you if you tell me how to get rid of this nausea.” 

     Ahmir heard a small clink, like glass being set in the desk. Barely opening his eyes to look, seeing a small vial filled with a dark iridescent liquid sitting in front of him. “A bismuth extract, useful for a temporary relief until you get your sea legs.”

     He gratefully downed the liquid, his unease quieting quickly. “How come you didn’t tell me about this before?”

     The Captain smirked, shrugging. “It’s been quite the insightful conversation, Advisor.”

     “Rotten, son of… Fine. The Sultan offered his shipping company for Mhuzelt to use as a staging ground to attack Mhzechet later on.  While the Empire has a large fleet on the northern coasts, the Sultan wanted some favor with them. As for anything beyond that, I will not tell you.”

     “Mhuzelt is going to what?! How, don’t we already have enough problems with the Outpost issue already?” Arash shouted, slamming his hands down on the desk. Ahmir, only sitting silently, waiting for the man to realize he wasn’t going to get anymore. “After all I did for you and the rebellion, now taking you halfway across the planet to Galus, and you won't even tell me anything besides there might be two wars on the horizon?”

     Sitting heavily back down, he asked a different question. “Advisor, I’ve seen you be kind to nothing but street urchins, speak with my crew as if they are family, you treat me like an equal. Yet, you appear to be one of the most powerful men in the country. Why? Why bring yourself down to our level? How, after surviving the rebellion, the war and all the corruption in the world, do you still have a heart of gold?”

     “Simply, Arash. I am only a man. I am no better than you nor anyone else, had life given me different circumstances I may have been those urchins, I may have been nothing at all. You can thank my beautiful wife for my perspective. I am truly nothing without her.” 

     “My son asks me to be humble, he is a monk in the Cult. I am proud of him, and will not disappoint him either. I want to see Bhal’s will realized, just not through war. I want my son, my wife, my people, to have a brighter future. And I will see it happen.”

     “We all have our ties to the mainland.” The Captain responded. 

     “I do this all for them.”

-A few hours later-

     The sailor set the heap of ropes down with a grunt. Arching his back, Ahmir heard several creaks and pops as he did so. The sailor turned to address another shipmate, “Don’t like those clouds on the horizon, the spark of lightning on the surface of the water.”

     “We knew it was hurricane season, took the job anyway. Quit complaining. Besides, we wanted to land at Estile to stop off and resupply. We can always wait till we find out which side of the Isle the storm is going to pick.” The other man responded, pulling the line tight in his hands. The wind snapping at the emergency sail in its grasp. 

     One of the engines had failed earlier, the engineer bellowing at the apprentice he had in the bowels of the ship. Apparently he had fallen asleep and allowed the engine to starve itself of oil. Hence the need for the sails to be raised once more on the vessel. “If that storm turns south, we will have to double back. We won’t keep the arrival time we promised the Delegation, we’ll be weeks behind schedule.” The sailor said. Ahmir looked over to them now. He recognized the two as the First Officer, and one of the engine workers for the engineer. 

     “It’s not really our problem, mate. It’s the Captain's job to ensure that kind of thing.” The engine worker turned, handing the First officer another rope, anchoring down the sail to the rail. 

     “Don’t worry too much about it, Sirs.” Ahmir said, watching from the railing. “We also knew it was bad timing, we have contingencies with Galus should we arrive late.” Setting his book down, reaching for the rope to assist the men.

     “You don’t need…” The First Officer began.

     “This isn’t my first time on a ship, son. Besides you two look tired. I can assist with more if it helps. Tell me about Estile while we work.” Ahmir responded.

     The two paused for a moment, shrugging. “Very well, I won’t turn down helpful passengers. Though you’re too kind to offer, we don’t ask this from those we passage. Estile is the large island owned by Galus. It’s used as farmland for the country, their proverbial bread basket so to speak.” The First Officer began.

     “Wait, aren’t you the Advisor to the Sultan, shouldn’t you know this all already?” He asked, setting his hand on his hip.

     “Know the basics like that, yes. Know the culture or the people, no.” Ahmir said, reaching for the next line in the sail to anchor it in the wind.

     “Well the main port we use is Casa Del Tabk. Shifty little town, mostly. It’s relatively safe for travelers, so long as they stay in the city center. Going out to the outer fringes of the town is a bit dangerous for anyone not accustomed to it.” The engine worker told him.

     “How so?” Ahmir asked.

     “Pick pockets, vandals, the Foxes have started making a presence there as well. The regular old hit and run tactics. They target travelers and merchants, anyone foolish enough to try and take an overland route to either Moreoleo or Montique. The Galus military tends to have their hands full dealing with the thieves a lot, so it’s a fairly quick customs search. But” The First Officer heaved on the line, quickly handing the slack off to Ahmir to tie the rope to the rail. 

     “Since we don’t have any cargo except our passengers, customs will probably not bother.”

     “I hear the Island is a haven for tobacco and various other delights.” Ahmir asked.

     “Aye, if that’s your vice. You will not be disappointed, many of the Council try to compete with each other to make more palette's pleased by their product. When you get there, I suggest seeking out Tabacalera Romano, Corojo leaves that are to die for.” The engine worker told them. A dreamy look on his face, likely remembering a past voyage there.

     “What if the storm swings back around the western side of the island? What will happen then, will we be able to harbor in Port De Renard?” Ahmir asked.

     “Haven’t heard of that happening for a very long time. For one it would mean the storm would be dropping many feet of snow on the eastern shores of Galus. The second is that it would depend. If we doubled back to the eastern shores of Estile, and took the northern route, it would mean more time. But, we could avoid the majority of the storm. If it stays south of the island, we can take the route straight to Glaion like we planned. North means Port De Renard. For it to stall out on the western Channel, might make the harbor an interesting challenge. though. “ The First Officer hesitated.

     “Yes?” Ahmir pressed, wiping his brow as he moved a coil of rope over to the next set of sails. 

     “If we have to stop in Port De Renard, the only option that would be quick would be an overland route.” The First Officer said,

     “Would this be a problem?”

     “It would be taking you through the goblin’s territory. Vicious little cretins and murderers, fond of holding up any traveler unlucky enough to find them. Depending on which raider gets their fingers around you, you might survive.” The engine worker socked the First Officer hard in the shoulder. 

     Rubbing the quickly forming welt, the First Officer smiled at Ahmir. “Though they aren’t very active during the Season of Waiting. They tend to have all the supplies they need to weather the snow long before it actually drops. So running into them during the storm is unlikely. I wouldn’t expect to see them.” He quickly added. 

     Ahmir thought for a long moment before answering. He didn’t know about the goblins, or if they were really going to be a problem. He had picked the Delegation himself, all of them survived the rebellion in one way or another. They were all accustomed to bandits. Returning their smile “I think you’re right. I think we will be lucky enough to avoid them this Season.”

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting, D25. Halgier

     The slight rattle of the bronze charms entwined into the curtains of the tent were his only clue before the voice spoke. “You wanted to know their names, yes?” Halgier, turned slowly. Seeing the Sightless hunter, sitting on his field desk. Small leather bound book in hand.

     Halgier holstered the small flintlock pistol he had surreptitiously pulled quickly out from beneath the shelf he was pursuing. The runes glowing a dull yellow in the dim tent on the gleaming surface barrel. Runes of power and might. He received it from Gjorn after one of his meetings with The Forgemaster a few years back. Had saved his life on a few different occasions. 

     The small caliber of the firearm meant nothing when it could blow holes through solid rock walls. He wasn’t afraid of the hunter in the slightest, though this one seemed to be a cut above the usual. “Yes, what do you have to report.” He answered. 

     “Well the Priestess you seem all too interested in, her name is Ilgor.” He rattled off various other names and social standings of the goblins in the caves. At the end of the conversation, he handed the small book to Halgier. “It contains all my notes, consider it a favor paid off. You should find it useful should you want to work with them directly.”