By Volk-Oboroten'
The villagers of Starven eagerly waited for the ice to break on the Sea of Souls. Already, they could see patches of open water near the barges, heralding the time when they would be free to leave the eastern shore in search of fish. Spring was usually a good time for the town's fishermen, for years of experience had allowed the elders to know where the schools of fish would gather to spawn.
This year, many hoped for a good catch, as Starven was no longer ruled by the tyrannical wizard Nasoj. No more tribute would be sent to the evil despot. Even better, the villagers no longer feared lutin raids, recalling how an army of the green-skinned savages had been slaughtered at the great battle near Raven's Rock in January.
A hero from that battle, Lowenherz the were-manticore, had returned to the town in February, serving to defend the village from any foolhardy attackers. Lowenherz had arrived with a strange companion, Beruthiel the sorceress, who used her odd magic to exert control over the peculiar creatures who wandered the woods near Starven. Beruthiel herself had a vaguely catlike appearance, having pointed ears and haunting, feline eyes which made one think of a hungry lioness.
Marcomir, who had been recently elected as burgomaster, head of the village council, watched the morning sun shimmer off the fast melting ice. Soon, the barges would be unmoored, allowing the boats which comprised the town to freely sail out into the huge lake. But would they leave once the ice broke? This year, some argued that they should stay at the eastern docks, to take advantage of new opportunities.
"We should send them up the road to Politzen, along the way to the baron's pass." declared Cnivagild angrily. "Calephas made a deal with me back in January, which I'm certain he will honor. Just think about how much profit could be made! Arabarb sells the finest furs to be found in all the kingdoms on the Northern continent."
"But isn't Metamor much closer?" protested another villager, pointing down the road leading south. "It could be very difficult to travel through the Dragon Mountains to Arabarb. Even in April, the snow drifts are still quite deep."
"I've heard they have mithril!" said Cnivagild, looking eastward toward the long path through the dark forest. "Baron Calephas would love to get his hands on even a tiny amount of elf-silver! I'm sure he'd make a very generous offer."
"This is no time to argue," said Marcomir, watching the band of merchants from Lik approach from the nearby road. "We need to give our guests good advice, especially if we want to benefit from the new trade route the Forest Queen has opened through the Tauremorna. Starven's never been an important town, but could really prosper if we gain a reputation for hospitality."
A few minutes later, the leader of the merchants approached Marcomir, announcing his decision: "Burgomaster, we've agreed to proceed south to Metamor Keep. Recared instructed us to find the quickest route to bring Lik's goods to market, so we've concluded that the pass to the south is the best way. Arabarb is much further away, and we're not sure if Baron Calephas has been able to reopen trade with other ports. He has a bad reputation in the south, so we think it's better to deal with the Keepers."
Startled by this sudden decision, Cnivagild blurted out, "To trade with those beasts? How can you trust the Keepers, after they've been at war with the men of the Giantdowns for years? Aren't they just going to steal your goods?"
The merchant laughed at Cnivagild's outburst, saying, "Who are you to tell us about security? We have a squadron of draconians on the road, supplied by Lilith herself, to watch over the valuable ore. Some of the Black Claw's cat-lutins also joined us as guards, for we're quite aware that thieves might try to plunder our wares."
At this time, Lowenherz walked down the path to Starven's docks, followed closely by Bragamund the priest. As he approached, Cnivagild pointed to him, asking, "Weren't you involved in maritime trade for many years, Lowenherz? Surely it's better to send goods by sea than to depend upon an unreliable pass like the Metamor Valley. It could be closed in a war."
Lowenherz slowly responded, "It's been a long time since I sailed on salt water, but I know it can be very risky to send anything out on a ship. Everything could be lost in a storm. Or worse. Your entire hold could be confiscated if you sail on behalf of an unpopular ruler - like Baron Calephas. Whalish fleets have dominated the western seas for decades, and would be sure to attack anyone dealing with him."
"Confiscated!" exclaimed Cnivagild. "Whales and Sathmore are at the brink of war, so they're hardly likely to patrol the seas near Arabarb. It will be so easy to slip a ship out of the port without being noticed. I could even do it myself, for it would be just like sending a barge into a far cove on the Sea of Souls."
"Your ‘Sea' is merely a lake," observed Lowenherz. "It's far more dangerous to trade on the open ocean. Besides, it's better for our visitors to trade with Metamor, for we've already seen men traveling north from there toward Caralore. We'll be able to get news about new settlers arriving in the Giantdowns."
"Your advice seems sound," said the Lik merchant to Lowenherz. "But we've already made up our minds based on distance. It took us several days to cross the dark forest, so we're eager to sell our wares as soon as possible. Also, the Keepers are known to be skilled with magical and enchanted items, which will be of great demand in Lik. Metamor is our final choice."
As the merchants prepared to depart, Cnivagild angrily stormed off to confer with Bragamund, furious that they were not going to Arabarb. Meanwhile, Marcomir spoke to the merchants' leader, hoping that Starven would become a frequent destination for traders. "Starven is a poor village, but we'll do almost anything to promote Lik's interests. I can guarantee that food will be provided for any wayfarers from your city."
"Your hospitality is appreciated," answered the man. "Recared also believes that it would be a good idea to build a permanent trading post onshore, on the hill above Starven's eastern docks. It's not too far from the Dark Keep, so the draconians can watch for lutin raiders. They're said to be steadfastly loyal to Lord Valaric."
"A permanent post?" asked Marcomir. "Starven normally migrates around the Sea of Souls, for we move the barges to follow the migrating fish. But I'm sure we can change our traditions to accommodate you."
"You'll hear more about it when we return from Metamor," answered the merchant. "We hope to be back in a few days. So long and thanks for all the fish!"
As the Lik merchants departed down the road to Metamor Keep, Cnivagild confronted Marcomir, still furious that the traders were not going to Arabarb. "How could you permit them to go south! You'll just encourage the Keepers to come here. Soon we'll be their slaves!"
"How can you say that?" protested an older villager seated next to Marcomir. "By right, we are subjects of the King who reigns in Metamor. We were part of the Northern Kingdom for many years before Nasoj came."
"King! What King?" declared Bragamund, in a mocking tone. "We only honor a Queen here. Lilith, our most-honored Lady who shows us great favor. Metamor's ruler is a mere duke."
"He may call himself a duke now," observed Marcomir. "But the lord of Metamor Keep is entitled to kingship, as the true heir to the Northern Kingdom. We do have a duty to respect his authority, for this town was once but an outpost on the frontier of his realm."
"Entitled! He's just a horse who's entitled to a stable," said Cnivagild sarcastically. "If he was our king, why didn't Metamor defend us from the lutins? They never did much about their lands beyond the Giants Dike, the ancient border of the Suielman Empire. I guess they figured we just weren't worth it, disdaining us as mere barbarians. How can we give tribute to a duke who didn't have the decency to defend his own subjects?"
"From what I've heard," commented Lowenherz. "The Keepers intend to send a military force north this summer to guard the roads in the Giantdowns. Even though Metamor Keep doesn't have much of an army, there are many knights to the south who have pledged loyalty to Metamor's duke. Starven will thrive if we remain on good terms with Metamor, for the southern nobles are sure to head north through here. Just think! It could be very profitable."
"You're only saying that because you like the Keepers, for they're part-animal like you." said Cnivagild. "If we ally with them, they will start demanding taxes, just like Nasoj. Baron Calephas would never try to compel tribute from us, as we're so far from Arabarb."
"It would be unwise to tie all of our hopes to Baron Calephas," concluded Lowenherz, as he looked northeast across the Sea of Souls. "Many lords allied with Metamor loathe him, and would be quite willing to send soldiers toward Arabarb to liberate it from his rule. What do you think the Keepers would do if we started to trade with the baron? Would they tolerate such commerce? Or would the duke's army arrive to punish Starven?"
"I'll find some way to get the next caravan to go to Arabarb," muttered Cnivagild, as he walked down to the lake shore with Bragamund. Marcomir headed off with a few villagers to the barges to have lunch, for it was nearly noon. Meanwhile, Beruthiel, the feline sorceress, came to Lowenherz's side, accompanied by a cat-lutin. The bewhiskered creature was gnawing on a piece of salted fish with his outlandish fangs.
"Aren't you glad that you gave up your silly quest to destroy Nasoj?" asked Beruthiel. "The wizard will fall one day, but, until that happens, you can be of more use here, defending the town from any lutins who seek to attack it."
"I suppose this is for the best," replied Lowenherz. "Back when I was in Caralore, I dreamed of storming Nasoj's Citadel alone, launching a desperate attack against the fortress. But now, I imagine it was the influence of the magic in that black axe. It really seems to drive its bearer into a battle frenzy! I can't imagine how Misha can control it."
"You're here now, with me," Beruthiel purred. "And remember, if you want to be permanently free of the manticore curse, just pledge your full allegiance to the Nameless One. Don't allow your misguided devotion to a petty goddess get in the way. Allow yourself to fulfill your dreams!"
Touching the metal collar in his cloak, Lowenherz recalled how Beruthiel's spell was only effective for a limited number of weeks. But at least it was better than turning into a feline monster with black wings every night. "I'm looking forward to the time when the ice melts," he said. "It's been a long time since I've been out on a ship. Even if it isn't a port on the ocean, Starven almost reminds me of home. The Sea of Souls can be quite beautiful."
After spitting out a few slender bones, the cat-lutin put down the raw fish he'd been gnawing and gazed out on the lake. A few spots of dark blue could be seen, where the ice floes had already parted. "We call it the Eye of Lilith," he said, "For it is cobalt blue in summer, just like one of the Dark Lady's eyes. Like her, it shows no mercy to those who dare to enter its dark waters. Many lutins fear it, but the Black Claw told us his Karuvati can prevail over its depths, even waters which are as black as midnight."
Not far away, down by the shore, Cnivagild sat on a log next to Bragamund, despondent over his failure to get the merchants to go to Arabarb. Would his deal with Baron Calephas turn out to be worthless? He'd thought it would be so lucrative!
As he continued to ponder this, a draconian strolled down the bank, followed by a few other reptile-men. Approaching Cnivagild, he asked, "Weren't you the human who worked with Scathamond the Necromancer last January? Back when he signed the pact with Calephasss."
"Yes, I am!" said Cnivagild. "Does Scathamond want me to do something for him? I'll be happy to do anything for Lilith's friends. Especially if you're going to Arabarb."
Upon hearing Scathamond's name, Bragamund also spoke, "Are any mages involved? Since I became a priest of Lilith, I've always wanted to learn more magic."
"It's a ssspecial mission," said the draconian. "The bosss back at Cirith Morgul told us to go into the Dragon Mountains to find out some information about a witch who lives there. She's supposed to be an Oracle for Samekkh, one of the Lightbringer godsss."
"But what about Arabarb?" asked Cnivagild.
"Calephasss," hissed the reptile. "He won't allow any draconians on his landsss. But we may go there any way, by a new route through the Dragon Mountainsss."
"A new route?" asked Bragamund. "Isn't there only one pass?"
"We'll cross the Sea of Souls tomorrow, after the ice breaksss," said the draconian.
"Fire Claw is right, as he knows the Black Claw's own thoughtsss," observed another draconian, "We need to accomplish this mission with great stealth. Can you help us steal one of the boats from Starven tonight? We need to crosss . . ."
"I can get you one of the fastest ones," promised Cnivagild hastily. "If Fire Claw can guarantee that I'll make a lot of gold on this journey."
"And don't forget me," said Bragamund. "I've heard magic gems can be found high in the Dragon Mountans."
"You'll be greatly rewarded," answered Fire Claw, thrashing his tail impatiently, "We'll even show Bragamund some of our spells. Just do what we say, and we'll treat you as one of us. But first, we need to discuss our plan, to ensure its successs."
[End of Part Two]