Iron Gauntlets
The first Felewin and Ninefingers adventure, created so I could try both Iron Gauntlets and Mythic. It worked out pretty well.
The Haunted Graveyard
Felewin & Ninefingers 1, it turns out[1]
Felewin’s broad shoulders sagged with fatigue as he nursed his beer. Tomorrow morning’s walk should finish his quest. Ninefingers the goblin was that far from justice—justice that Felewin could execute, if he were a knight. But bringing Ninefingers in tomorrow would grant him knighthood, he was sure of it. That and the other things he had done—
He glanced at the goblin, who sat beside him, as far away as possible, the rope between them taut and barely visible in the dim inn. Ninefingers had drunk three times as much ale as Felewin: how did the goblin drink so much without getting tipsy? Felewin shook his head and looked back at his ale. He had once seen ale with foam on the phead, a Seftish brew given to his father—
There was a tap on his shoulder.
“Goblin, I have no patience.” But it wasn’t Ninefingers. It was a haggard woman. Ninefingers sat behind her, watching over the rim of his ale horn.
“Begging your pardon, sir.” Her accent and voice were coarse. Local. “I see you’re a fighter. A tracker.”
“No need to sir me.” He tried a smile. “I’m a third son. Felewin.”
She curtsied awkwardly. “Lodna of the cattle, not Lodna the seamstress. One of my sons—he’s missing. Could you— Please.”
Felewin said gently, “He probably ran away. Boys do that.” Felewin signaled that the innkeep should bring the ale cask around again.
“Not Ymon. One of my other boys, yes. But not Ymon.” She briefly described him. “He disappeared near the haunted graveyard.”
Felewin wanted to refuse her: he was tired, and within a morning of his goal: just a morning of walking would take him to the Baron and possible knighthood. But this might help his cause: any extra deed might tip the scales with Baron Coodna. And what was a day’s tracking? “All right. We’ll look.” He would have to bring Ninefingers, or the goblin would run away.
“We’re very close to the Thornwood,” said Ninefingers suddenly. “Wild beast might have got him.”
Felewin reassured the woman and sent her away. “What is wrong with you?” he asked Ninefingers.
“I would rather not get into a life or death situation with you. ’Cause the death will almost certainly be mine. ”
“You’re a prisoner.”
“Yeah. I know. Will you pay for another round?”
“You’ve had enough,” said Felewin, irritated.
#
The next morning,[2] Felewin looked at the gate. A fieldstone wall as high as Felewin’s head surrounded the graveyard. Sturdy iron gates stood before him, held in place with a thick lock. “Who would lock a graveyard?”
Ninefingers said, “People afraid something would come out. Which is a reason not to go in.”
“I promised. See if you can get this lock open.”
Ninefingers looked at it. “Puzzle lock. No key.”
“Well, if you can’t solve it...”
“I didn’t say that,” whined Ninefingers. “I can solve almost any lock, given the time.”
“Good. Because if you can’t, I’ll go find the gravekeeper.”
“Keeper’s dead,” came a man’s voice. Felewin jerked like a hooked fish, then saw the burly bearded man with a gut so big it got everywhere before him.
Am I going to be surprised by everyone in this town? Felewin wondered as he introduced himself to the burly man.
“Bolya, headman of town. Good to meet you.” Felewin started to explain. Bolya said, “—I heard why you’re here.”
“Good. Do you have the answer for the puzzle lock here?”
“No, the keeper died unexpectedly and we’ve meant to get it open before we needed the graveyard.” He looked down at Ninefingers. “Perhaps you....”
“Is there a payment?”
“If there were, it would go to Lodna,” said Felewin smoothly.
“Of course,” said Ninefingers bitterly. “Because she did so much to open the gate.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to the lock.
Felewin took out the key, unfastened the tether and locked it to the gate. “Keep trying. Bolya and I have to talk.”
The two men walked down around the corner. “Tell me the truth,” said Felewin. “What happened.”
“What Lodna said. And Ymon isn’t the first boy to disappear—we’ve lost thirteen children, pretty much one a month over the last year. We lost two in Arbel, on either side of the new moon.”
“Any chance he ran away.”
“His mother says he was good but he wasn’t a saint.” He thought about it. “But I think something took him. The graveyard is haunted. It’s locked for a reason. Though only a few boys disappeared in the graveyard. Some were near the Thornwood.”
“And have you appealed to Baron Coodna for aid.”
“Of course. But we’re not the richest area in the Barony; this land became tired during the Tanne Empire. We’re just holding on, and the Baron asks for more, and more....” He shrugged. “It feels like a land of Hool, not Delaeth.”
“But for a year! And the Baron is less than a morning’s ride away.”
“You eat what’s set before you,” said Bolya. “If you find anything, let me know. You take care.”
Felewin nodded slowly as the man went away.
#[3]
Ninefingers was sitting by the gate when Felewin reached the front again, one gate open. “See? I’m good. So we’ll take a walk here in the sunlight and then leave. Because, and maybe you didn’t think of this, but if the doors have been locked for months, he couldn’t have gotten in.”[4]
Felewin detached the tether from the gate and locked it on his leg again. “There’s a tree at the back, you can shinny up and jump over the wall there. And inside I bet we find some equivalent way to get out.”
Ninefingers cocked his head to one side. “How much do you want to bet?”
“It was a figure of speech.”
“Damn. Swordsmen first.” He waved Felewin in.
The graveyard was overgrown with grass and weeds—presumably because no one had been in since the keeper died. Felewin found himself wondering about that death. Could there be more to the graveyard?
The grass was so high it had fallen on its side. It was maybe as high as his thigh, if stretched up. It was sparser in the path, but there. Graves were marked by triangles: some by rude sticks carved and set into the ground, others by elaborate structures of wood, but still featuring triangles. In the center of the graveyard, a neglected gem among the squalor, squatted a crypt.
“A crypt? What do they need the crypt for?” squeaked Ninefingers.
“For dead people,” said Felewin, irritated.
“No, they bury their dead. The triangles show that. We should leave.” The whining tone was back in his voice. “Look, there are only a couple of reasons to have a crypt or a mausoleum.”
“Says who?”
“I started in grave robbing.” Felewin stopped, and Ninefingers was so busy scanning the ground around them that he bumped into him. “Family business,” Ninefingers explained. “So you build a mausoleum if the ground is too wet and swampy to bury them. Assuming you bury instead of burning them.”
“Secundus?” asked Felewin.
“Wealth. You want to show off.”
“Tertius?”
“Change in fortunes, right? Maybe a leftover from the Tanne Empire.”
“Any others.”
“Disguised hiding place for monsters.” Felewin laughed. “No joke. If you can’t apply one of the first three, assume monsters. That rule kept my family safe for generations, until the accident.” Felewin raised an eyebrow. “Wealthy vampires,” explained Ninefingers.” Why don’t we go back indoors and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“I promised.”
“You can keep your promise but you don’t have to be stupid about it.”
“We’ll circle the graveyard once, make sure it’s safe, then into the crypt.”
“I’m gonna die,” moaned Ninefingers.
#[5]
The door to the crypt was also locked, but by a different lock. “Funny,” said Ninefingers. His fingers worked the lock while he talked. “Also a puzzle lock but from the rest of the doors, the crypt is clearly Tanne Empire vintage.”
“So?”
“So puzzle locks weren’t invented then. They used poke sticks and concealed the entry holes.”
“Door got broken by thieves and the lock got replaced.”
“Maybe.” Ninefingers said.
Felewin tried to look into the crypt but it was too dark. He turned and looked out over the graveyard. Two children were standing at the gate, peering in. He waved at them. They ran away. Ninefingers was still working. The sun had barely moved in the sky before Ninefingers said, “There.” He stood up. “After you.” As Ninefingers followed Felewin into the confines of the crypt, he sighed. “Darkness. Lovely soothing darkness. No spikes in the eyes like the way you like it.”
Felewin hit something with his hips. Oddly, his first thought was, display case? But then Ninefingers said, “Careful with the coffin.”
Felewin recoiled. Finally he shrugged off his pack and rummaged for the lantern. Worthy purchase: inside was an enchanted stone that glowed forever. He unshuttered the box.
“You notice that?” asked Ninefingers.
“The lack of dust.”
“Someone leaves by here and doesn’t want others to know about it.”
“They probably come in here, too.”
Ninefingers muttered something, but Felewin chose to ignore it. “Let’s look in this main coffin,” said Felewin.
“I’ll stand over here, ready to cut off your leg and run.”
“You’ll stand over here and help me move the lid of the sarcophagus.”
Ninefingers made a face and said, “I’m gonna die I’m gonna die.”
Felewin felt the rough stone against his fingers and heaved. The slab moved slightly. “But it will be a—erg—noble death. When I say, ‘mark’. Mark.” The slab did not move, though the two of them strained.
“Wait.” The small goblin peered at it. Ah. Right. He can see in the dark, Felewin thought. “Counterweight.” Ninefingers put his palm under one corner and lifted up. The lid came up easily. Ninefingers stopped when it was a palm-width up. “Get out your sword. In case.”
Felewin swallowed and loosed his sword. “In case.” He stopped for a moment. “Smell.”
Ninefingers said, “Unlikely. The Tanne Empire was over a hundred years ago. Also, the lid’s open now and now it’s too late.”
“Right.”
Ninefingers hauled up the lid—and then caught it as though it were lighter than he expected.
The sarcophagus was empty. “What?” asked Felewin.
“Graverobbers,” said Ninefingers happily. “I used to know this one guy, he’d take the bodies and sell the curved bones of the arms and legs as penis-bones from a giant. Alchemists in Seftil will buy those, and it’s illegal, so they won’t turn him in.”
“Did he get caught?” asked Felewin absentmindedly as he squatted to look down the length of the sarcophagus. The hinges were hidden, so one wall was too thick—
“Well, yeah, but that was because a Seftish torma tried a potion from one of his customers, it didn’t work, and the torma issued a dictate that he be killed. Depriving the torma of an heir is serious business there. Rule sixty-three: Stay away from Seftish alchemists. They’ll turn you— What are you doing?”
Felewin was now running his hand along the edge of the sarcophagus, tracing the intricate patterns on the outside. “What I was wondering is, why put a counterweight on a sarcophagus lid? A sarcophagus doesn’t get opened and shut often, so when you need to, just get six guys to do it. So this was intended to be opened and closed a lot, and by fewer than six people. Ah.” His finger slid into a hole, and the bottom dropped out of the sarcophagus, revealing a ladder that descended into a pit.
“Oh, I don’t like the look of that,” said Ninefingers.
“After you,” said Felewin.
#[6]
“The room is empty,” announced Ninefingers. Felewin had made him go first—he could see in the dark—altHough Felewin had been close behind, as the tether required. “Three doors, one switch.”
“Give me a minute,” said Felewin as he left the ladder. He could reach the switch just by stretching out his arm. He threw the switch—[7]
And the ladder folded up to the ceiling.
Ninefingers gasped.”Idiot! You just closed our exit path! Never do that.”
Felewin threw the switch down. Nothing happened. He threw it up again—and nothing happened. Next Felewin took off his shield, sword, and backpack and set them down. “Do not touch them or I will thrash you,” he told Ninefingers.
“Like there’s a benefit to me grabbing them. If there were still an exit...”
Felewin unlocked the tether and then leaped as high as he could, hoping to catch the ladder. He tried again. No luck.
“Here, I’ll throw you. I can’t leap quite high enough.”
“Yeah. That’s about a leg length you have to go. Knights. Sooooo bright.”
“I’m not a knight yet.”
“Well, when you become a knight, they won’t have to make you any stupider.” The goblin climbed into the man’s hands and got ready to jump at the top of the throw. He reached up and hung there.
“I don’t think you weigh enough.”
“Grab my feet and pull.” Felewin did. “Ow ow ow ow! Stop.” Felewin stopped, then caught the goblin as he dropped free. “I guess we’re going forward to get out,” said Ninefingers.
“And rescue the boy,” reminded Felewin.
“Three doors, no lights beyond any of them,” reported Ninefingers while Felewin got his gear on again.
“What about the floor? Which one gets the most traffic.” Felewin got out his chain hauberk. Hardened leather might not be enough. He thought about putting on the leather helm, but he hated the thing. He would keep his head bare.
“Can’t tell. Seems like they sweep here, too.”
“People instead of monsters, then. Monstrous animals generally don’t care about cleanliness.” He held up the tether. “You promise to stay near while we’re down here.”
#[8]
“Sure.” Felewin looked at him. “All right. I swear on the grave of my mother.” Felewin tossed him the shackle at the end of the tether. He caught it and tucked at his waist, saying, “We took out her gold teeth before we buried her. I still have one. Not with me, of course.”
“Suggestions about which door? None are the traditional direction of light, so there doesn’t seem to be a significance there.”
Ninefingers looked at him with pity that he could be so stupid. “We’re under a graveyard. If we find a temple or a dungeon here, it will not have much to do with worshipping the light.”
“Opposite of light, then.”
Ninefingers walked the three steps to the door and peered at it minutely. He moved from the highest point he could see on tiptoe down to the floor, paying special attention to the door handle, the latch, and the side that probably had hinges on the other side.
“I don’t think it’s trapped or poisoned.” He looked in his pouch. “You have my lockpicking tools.”
Felewin frowned and searched through his pack. “Here.” Ninefingers took them. A minute passed as he angled wire between the door and the jamb. “Done.”
“If you’re going to take that long over every door, we will be here until I have a beard to my waist.”
Ninefingers put the tools in his pouch.
Felewin grabbed the door, pulled, and then realized it pushed. He gave it a shove and put his hand on his sword. The door scraped along the cobblestone floor and stopped half-way. “After you.”
#[9]
Ninefingers looked at the next door. This was clearly an interior door: no lock. It opened into the corridor: he could see the hinges, straps of leather, nailed into the door and a wooden jamb set into the stone.
He twitched. This was all dug out of earth and stone instead of just stone. It might be unstable. It made him nervous. You’re starting to act like a dwarf, he told himself. Grow up, by Vulk.
He might as well admit it to himself: he liked open spaces—caverns with a bit of room to them. Up top, if necessary, though it was so bright up there. Was that voices he heard? He carefully pressed his ear against the door, careful not to disturb it.
Yes. Local accents. “We should wake him up.”
“You get better results if you let them pass out and then start torturing when they wake.”
“I’m saying, you get better answers if he doesn’t get a chance to rest.”[10]
“And he’ll say anything, won’t he? Just to make it stop. No, you got to keep him on edge of the cliff, give him the rest to back down, then start it up again. It takes longer, but good quality always does.”
“Oh, high and mighty because you got made the head torturer. We both got the same amount of experience.”
Ninefingers ought to move away—he had a bad habit of listening too long at doors. And there was a scraping that meant someone was moving.
The latch started moving. Ninefingers flattened himself against the wall. The door slammed open, hitting Ninefingers on the toes, thighs, chest, nose—
“I coulda been head torturer if I married.” The man stepped forward and peered behind the door. “Hello.” He held a single candle, not a lantern.
“Hello,” said Ninefingers. “I was, uh, burrowing. Good soft earth you have here. Good.” He touched his knuckles to the earth. “Goodbye.” He ran back down the hall to Felewin. “Goons,” he gasped and hid behind the man. If only Ninefingers’ sword were in the open and not packed away—he’d lift it back. Instead, there was only the chance to hide.[11]
Felewin strode forward and met the man running after Ninefingers.
“Who are you?” asked Felewin.
No, you stab first and ask later, thought Ninefingers but he didn’t say anything. He just shrank into the wall, hoping not to be noticed.
The man—he was balding, thin, almost middle aged—looked at Felewin with wide watery eyes. Then he blew out the candle. Darkness enveloped them.
Ninefingers could see the man backing up. He cried out, “He’s backing up.”
“Of course he’s backing up,” said Felewin irritably. “Narrow tunnel, he didn’t go past me. Come on.” Felewin unshuttered the lantern again, but the man was gone.
He started to run down the hall.
I’d leave, thought Ninefingers, if only there were someplace to leave to, and he followed.
#[12]
The door was closed, of course. The question was, had they run off to sound the alarm, or were they still in the room?
Felewin tried to pull on the door, but they had pulled the latch--a loop of rope--back in. It was effectively locked. No axe, but door opens toward me. He grabbed his bow from the side of his pack and tried to fit it under the door--too thick. He pulled out his knife and tried that. No: the crack under the door was too small.
“Let me,” said Ninefingers. He slipped a long probe into the hole that had held the handle, rotated the bottom, and pulled. Light spilled into the corridor from the room.
Felewin took quick stock of the room--torture table, pit, equipment rack, three torches to provide light, and an open door. There was a man unconscious on the table. The man that Felewin had chased was standing with a flensing knife, standing between Felewin and the door. “Don’t come any closer! My partner has gone to get help.”
“Then I should finish you now,” said Felewin reasonably. He darted forward, avoiding the poker, and his sword bit deeply into the man’s leg. The man tumbled to the floor, crying out in pain, then got slowly to his feet and teetered there. Felewin slashed at the other leg, and the man waved feebly, missing Felewin by an arm’s length. Felewin was tempted to kill him, but he had not the right. The man lay there, unconscious from the pain.
#[13]
That was when the other two came in: one had the remains of good looks, the other was large, tonsured, and unshaven. Both had cudgels and knives. The large man swung and connected on Felewin’s shoulder, sending numbness all down his dumb arm. The other man swung, but he seemed afraid to come closer, so his club hit only air. Felewin gasped but he managed not to cry out. He thrust wildly and connected--his sword sank into the large man’s belly. The man cried out in pain.
Wincing, Felewin backed up. The hallway was narrow. If he stood just inside it, only one could attack him at a time--
The large man swung again, his blow fueled by rage. It hit him under the arm, and the chain and leather there absorbed it so it stung but wasn’t as numbing as the blow on his shoulder.
Felewin staggered, and his sword bit deeply into the man’s waist. The man groaned and fell.
The small man gulped and took a tentative slash at Felewin. It missed.
Felewin felt his face pull back in a grin, and he concentrated on the man’s chest. The blade just had to go there--
And it did. Twice. The man fell.
Gasping, Felewin wiped his shortsword off with shaky arms. His arm wouldn’t be quite right for hours. He thought for a second about quitting, taking these two back, but didn’t. He had promised to rescue the boy. That was what a knight did: kept his promises.
He slid the sword into the scabbard and went to the table. Ninefingers was already there, unfastening the straps that held the man down. Felewin tried to help, but his fingers wouldn’t co-operate. Instead, he fetched a cup of water from the barrel in the corner, and dribbled some on the man’s face.
“Easy, now. You’re safe, for the moment. What’s your name.”
#[14]
“Empen.” He took a greedy gulp from the cup. Felewin noticed that some skin around his belly had been cut free. Empen wouldn’t be able to travel.
“Can you sit up.” Empen shook his head. “Sure.” No one had come from the other door, so he hoped that meant there were no other guards there. And he hoped there was a place for Empen to lie down. And he hoped—
No, the list was getting too long. One thing at a time. He wanted Empen safe somewhere. This room had two doors, so it couldn’t be fortified.
“Ninefingers, scout out the next room. See if there’s anyone there, and if maybe we can hide Empen there.” The goblin left silently. “What did they want from you.”
“An artifact. They wanted a little statue, about yea high. Of a medusa. To enhance the sacrifice,” said Empen. In the torchlight, his face glistened with sweat. “But I don’t know anything about it.”
“We believe you.” The man looked around. “We? You have more people.”
“No, just-- You’ll see him in a moment. If all goes well. Here, take this.” He handed the man his wadded-up spare shirt to press against the wound. “I don’t have a healing salve, sorry.”
“No guards in the other room,” said Ninefingers. Felewin started at the sudden sound. “No exits, either. It’s the jail.”
“So they bring prisoners through the torture room.”
“I think it was a storeroom that got retrofitted, but frankly, if it doesn’t have dead people in it, I’m no expert.”
“Help me with him.” Together they moved the man to the jail.
There was a blanket on a cot in one of the three cells. “There.”
The man began to struggle. “No! No! I won’t go back!”
“We’ll break the padlock so it doesn’t close, all right?”
“I want to leave!”
“Can’t get out the way we came in. Unless-- How did you come in?”
“Secret passage. In the crypt.”
“Yeah, that’s blocked now,” said Ninefingers from his spot at the padlock.
The man sank to the floor. “We’re doomed.”
Felewin said, “Wait here. We’ll be back. And things are much better than when you were being tortured.”
“Yeah, but-.” The man slumped down, unconscious.
Ninefingers stood there, a stool leg in his hand. “We don’t really have time to talk about this.”
Felewin sputtered— “You have-- Remember that you’re still my prisoner.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can we move on? The sooner we find the exit....
“And the boy.”
Felewin laid the man on the bed. They went back to the room under the crypt.
#[15]
The ladder was down. Ninefingers felt a sudden joy.
“That means someone’s here,” Felewin whispered.[16]
“Or someone’s left,” said Ninefingers. “We should leave too.”
Felewin shook his head. “No. Not you and me. Empen should go, though. Except of course, he’s unconscious.”
“Well, we could go.”
“I haven’t found the boy.”
“I could go.”
“Except you’re my prisoner.”
Ninefingers eyed the ladder. Could he scramble up it before Felewin grabbed him again? He had to try. He made a leap for the ladder—but instead of going after him, Felewin went for the switch. The ladder started to rise, taking Ninefingers with it. Ninefingers held on tight—
And felt Felewin’s hand on his ankle. He held on desperately—the ladder wouldn’t move while Felewin was pulling—but the human was too strong for him.
They sat there, in the dark, panting. Only years of long control kept Ninefingers from crying.
“I didn’t want to have to tether you again,” said Felewin.
“You….crazy. You .”
“Now let’s find the boy. I’ll tell you what,” said Felewin. “I’ll let you choose which of the two remaining doors we go in.”
I will lead you to death, Ninefingers thought. Hool take you.
#[17]
There was chanting from up ahead. Felewin didn’t know the language, but chanting had to be bad. Felewin pulled Ninefingers aside. “Chanting probably means they’re all in there. If the boy is there, he’s tied down or drugged. You get him to safety.”[18]
“The ladder isn’t down.”
“They’ll know how to lower it. Someone will run for the exit, you’ll follow them, figure out how to do it.”
“That’s your plan.”
“It’s all I got.” Felewin wished he had a shield. He took out his sword, breathed a deep breath, and charged in, yelling.
It was a large room, maybe a temple. There was an altar at the other end, with a child on it. Maybe a dozen robed and masked people were standing there, chanting. One stood over the boy, ceremonial knife at the ready, his belly leading the way.
#[19]
Felewin’s hope was that the man—had to be Bolya, with that belly, that body—couldn’t kill the child until the chant was finished. It took him precious seconds to cross the room, time he hoped the man wouldn’t use. The man was frozen by the berserker’s scream—that was the intention—until Felewin was almost there. Then the ceremonial dagger came down on the child—
—and his arm sent to one side by the flat of Felewin’s shortsword.
He tried to swing again, but Felewin was too strong, holding his arm pinned there. Felewin withdrew and stabbed, his blade sinking deeply into the man’s belly. The man waved at Felewin weakly, so Felewin rammed the sword deeper, twisting it up into the man’s chest.
The priest fell.
Felewin spared a second to pull his sword free with a wet sucking sound, and he glanced at the child.
A girl.
This wasn’t the boy he had been sent to find.
No time to think about that: two cultists approached him cautiously, wielding knives. The rest fled, out a side door he hadn’t noticed before.
One of the two cultists was tall and rangy, his head brushing the top of the room. The other was shorter than Felewin and thick-set with muscles. Neither was experienced with a knife. It wasn`t easy, but Felewin downed them without being hurt himself. They probably wouldn’t live, but he didn`t have a choice. Not what a knight would do but surely the Baron would see that.
He freed the trembling girl. “Go out that door. There’s a goblin there who will help you,” he said. “I’m going after the other men.”
The first room had pegs to hang clothes—he knew this because of the clothes hanging from them, and the robes and masks tossed everywhere—and another door. It was empty of people. He charged through.
In the next room, there were two doors and a few tables scattered. The left one presumably led out—there was a switch, already thrown. Since he saw no one there and the door was ajar—he peeked. The ladder was down, and the room was empty. Everyone, including Ninefingers, was gone.
So he was alone down here. Except for the thing next door that made the scraping sound.
#[20]
There were torches in the next room. The room, in fact, was brighter than any other room Felewin had seen. A woman in fine clothes was in the far corner of the room, bending over in a doorway. Beyond her, Felewin could see a tangle of limbs and cloth, all stiff and unyielding. Dead? he wondered.
Then he heard the hiss of snakes. Medusa. She looked human, but wasn’t. Meilor had told him that. He reminded himself not to look in her eyes. Meilor had told him that, too.
“Just stocking the larder,” she said. Her voice was low and sultry. She finished arranging Ninefingers’ paralyzed body on the pile. Now Felewin couldn’t get across the room and take her by surprise. “Children are best, but goblins are good, too. You? You’re too tough for babies. I’ll have to kill you.”[21]
“You have...babies.” Felewin tried to find a better position. A table, a stool, seven torches. Seven!
Of course, you couldn’t look in her eyes unless there were light. He backed up to grab a torch from a sconce.[22]
“Not yet, but once I do, well, it’s too late to stock.” She casually walked to a wall and threw a switch. “No escape. Ladder’s up again.”
Meilor had never said medusae could talk. Maybe Meilor had never fought a medusa? Around her head, the snakes writhed and hissed. He was looking, unfocused, at her navel. A trick his fighting tutor had shown him. A drop of something—venom?—fell past her belly to the floor.
He didn’t know if his trick would work.
“Thirteen children and a goblin should be enough. To feed twins. They’ll already have eaten me.”
Felewin circled slowly, keeping the table between them. Maybe the table would keep her snakes from attacking him—
She grabbed one edge of the table and rolled it, end over end, against the door to the outside. “Now.”
She moved closer. Felewin slashed, more to keep her away than anything else. His sword hit her arm and bounced off, leaving no trace. She laughed.
“Swords don’t hurt me.” He slashed again—this time a solid hit that drew some blood but not enough. “Don’t hurt me enough.”
She grabbed for him, but he dodged out of the way. His swing went wild and hit a torch—he felt something wet land on his shoulder and something brushed his hair.[23]
“You can’t win,” she said. “You’re against a god. You are pale misshapen copies of us.” She grabbed for him again and missed as he danced out of the way. “Your hair is lifeless, you fail to give yourself to your offspring, and you breed like animals.” The dodge made his swing wild, but still a snake’s head fell to the floor.
The wound did not bleed. Instead, a small serpent’s head formed there and started to grow. The wound at her side had smoothed over, too, even before the blood had thickened.
They grow back? He dodged again to try and get out of her range. He almost caught her gaze and forced himself to look away. Her fingers grazed his hauberk and he jerked backwards, out of her range.
Fire? It was said to work in the stories, when Ufasen slew the troll—
He waved the torch at her, and she moved back. He jabbed; the torch was awkward in his hand, and the flaming bitumen-soaked cloth at the top began to unravel. Felewin swore. Another torch was over there—
She grabbed for him again, and missed, thank goodness. He moved warily to the other torch and grabbed it—
She lunged forward and he narrowly avoided her, the new torch in his hand, the old one on the floor. He would have to step over it when he came near. He thrust the torch at her. She batted it away with the stool.
Snarling, she broke off the stool leg and jammed the second door shut, the one he had come through. “You will not leave,” she said.
The torch was his only hope. He got ready to dodge her, then jab her with the fire. She swept her leg, trying to dump him; he leaped over it and jabbed! She caught it in her bare hands and screamed. The burn was raw and red on her skin. She let go and backed off. They circled each other again and again.
In moments she held up her hands and flexed her fingers. They were as clean as a newborn’s hands.
So fire would not work. Sooner or later, he would grow tired or the snakes would connect or he would look into her eyes. Then he would die.
“How can you hope to defeat a god?” she asked. “I am as strong and as fast as you are. My poison can kill you. My stare can kill you. And your hurts are momentary to me.”
He wondered if he would feel the pain. Still, he thought, I will make her pay for every mouthful of flesh on my body.
He slashed with the sword and missed, then hit her with the torch. “Have a moment of hurt, then.”
The angry red flesh healed, but this time the burn was bigger, and took longer.
Wait. She didn’t say I couldn’t hurt her, she just said the hurts passed.
But what if they didn’t pass? What if he cut her, and before it healed he jammed the torch in the wound? And what if he cut her again, and did it with another torch? And another? The room had five other torches. He could do this. But if he did, it would be all offense, no defense. He would have to hold the torch in place, and the snakes would bite: their needle-sharp fangs were thinner than the holes in the chain of his mail.
He glanced at the disorderly pile of paralyzed children. The boy Ymon was there. A medusa’s gaze would eventually wear off: they would be free. Freeing them was a knight’s death.
So be it.
He screamed then, like barbarian Skjoldings scream. Perhaps she would take it as a sign of frustration, but the scream gave his arms and legs strength. She looked startled, and danced back from his sword as it sliced through the air, hunting for her. Then she smiled and took a sharp backhand blow to one hip. Felewin felt her hands on his hauberk and she pulled him in. Felewin looked down at her torso as he jabbed in the torch.
Her fingers loosened and though he felt snakes’ teeth sharp against his scalp and shoulder, he did not let go. She tried to move away, but Felewin was there, following her. Snakes again, so many that venom ran down his face and hair like green tears. He closed his eyes. Weakness started in his jaw, his head there--so he jabbed his sword in somewhere, he didn’t know where. More thorns of pain, the serpent-heads jerking in his skin, tearing it.
The medusa slumped. She fell, but he didn’t know if it was temporary. The only way to make sure she was dead was to cut off her head, so he tried, but he couldn’t make a clean cut. It was like a boy cutting leather for the first time. Finally her head was off. There was blood everywhere. And then he remembered the switch. He got up and staggered to the switch. Oddly, there were two of them. That was okay; he had two sets of hands. He used all his hands and threw the switch.
#[24]
Felewin was on a blanket in a mud hut. A cookfire sat in the corner, under what smelled like delicious stew. Lodna of the cattle saw he was awake and came over. “We are very grateful,” said Lodna of the cattle.
Ymon and Ninefingers came in and squatted near him. “I have this one back.” She ruffled Ymon’s hair.
“Mother came and found you, after some men were gibbering about a monster in the haunted graveyard.”
“That.” Felewin tried again. His voice was rusty. “That must have taken some courage.”
“I had a child to find.”
“We would have been able to help in within a day. The gaze of the medusa wears off.”
“But I would have been dead, then.”
“Yeah,” said Ninefingers. “So, you know that cows are vulnerable to snakebite.” He nodded. “Turns out Lodna has snakebite salve, but for the cows, not for people. Still worked.”
“We owe you our lives,” said Ymon, gravely.
“Yeah, about that,” said Ninefingers. “I guess I do owe you my life. So I’m in your debt.”
Felewin said, “It was nothing.”
“No, I mean, I’m in your debt. I’m bonded to you now. One life for another. My life is yours.”
“Thank you. But you have crimes to answer for.”
“Uh.... You should probably know that I didn’t steal the stuff you’re blaming me for.”
“What.” Felewin tried to sit up and couldn’t. “Why not tell me this before.”
“Would you have believed me? But now...now I feel I owe you the truth.”
Felewin swore. “And if I decide you’re lying and send you to the Baron.”
“I’d say thank you. Because there? There’s a chance to escape before I die. With you? It’s for life. No matter how short.”
Felewin looked at the Aprak’s face. As near as he could tell, the goblin was telling the truth.
“Who did commit the thefts.”
“My brother.”
“Then we should get him instead.”
“I don’t know where he is. Shortly after you took me, I heard that slavers attacked our nest.”
“How do you know this? And your nest.”
“We have ways of getting important information out. And nest is...tribe. Pack. Village. Nest.”
Felewin sank down to the blanket.”So I need another deed to prove my worth to be a knight. Killing a medusa has to count.”
“Already burned. There’s no proof, and there’s a whole cult of people who’ll deny it.”
Felewin covered his eyes with his arm.
“Knighthood is over-rated,” said Ninefingers.
Felewin removed his arm and opened his eyes. “Ah,” said Felewin. “But—”
“I’m honor-bound to say this is a stupid idea.”
Felewin sat up and looked at the goblin. “You haven’t heard it yet.”
“I don’t need to,” said Ninefingers.
“Shush. There’s an ogre that&rsdquo;s been terrorizing a town by the Black Forest. If I killed it&mdash.”
Game Mechanics
[1] Adventure setup: A small town, a woman with a missing child. Since I’m stretching at two characters (fighter and thief), this will probably be a low magic environment: more rituals than wizardly spells, or wizards are reserved for court. We need someone to set the story up. The mother, Lodna. The general scheme is that there’s a long-abandoned temple under the graveyard and a dark cult in it. Chaos 5.Scene start: Unaltered. Later, it turns out to be in Amherst somewhere.
[2] Scene start: Altered.Mythic question: Is the gate locked? Exceptional yes.
[3] Scene start: unalteredLock solving is done with standard Iron Gauntlet rules. Difficulty 2, Ninefingers is taking extra time as a sustained task for +1D, Ninefingers makes it.Mythic question: Did the boy go in the graveyard? Yes (28).I already know the answer to “whether there’s a way out,” but if I didn’t, that would be an excellent question for Mythic.
[4] I know there’s a hidden tunnel somewhere in the graveyard. (Because I know the cult operated under the graveyard.) Mythic question: Is the entrance to the tunnel hidden in the crypt? I think it’s likely. Yes. (17)
[5] Scene start: unaltered (7)
[6] Scene start: Unaltered (9) Raising the Chaos number to 6: I want more chaos.
[7] Mythic question: Does the same switch raise and lower the ladder? No. (62)
[8] Mythic question: Does this door lead to the children? (a 1/3 chance, so “Unlikely”) No (86) Mythic question: Is the door locked? Yes (13)
[9] Scene setup: Unaltered (9) That’s a lot of Unaltered scenes. Maybe I should up the Chaos level to 7.
[10] Mythic question Does the person leaving spot him (Likely)? Yes (26).Iron Gauntlets: The man grabs. He needs two successes; he gets only one. I’m not using athletics rolls, but predefined movement.
[11] Iron Gauntlets: He gets four successes on his subterfuge roll and needs only three.
[12] Scene setup: Altered (event) Mythic question: Did one man go to get the jailer? Yes (33) NPC Positive, Inform, Rumor
[13] Iron Gauntlets: Combat! Felewin goes first on reaction rolls.Felewin has been training to be a knight. The torturer is a farmer who moonlights as a torturer. Give him 3 for Fitness 3, brawling, athletics and composure.Felewin attacks. This is a dueling attack, and he gets 3 successes. So the difficulty for the torturer’s dodge is 3: he needs 3 successes.The torturer fails to dodge, getting only 1 success. He has no armor, so the sword doe 2 FAT and 2 INJ.s With two grades of injury already (that’s less 1D to fitness activities), the fight will be over in a few moments.But Felewin’s initiative is after the other two. So the jailer is large, Fitness 4, and the Head Torturer is Fitness 3. The jailer is at least proficient (dueling 4) but the Head Torturer is not (unskilled).There are two of them, so Felewin splits his pool to have two actions.The jailer goes first. He gets two successes; Felewin gets two to defend, so the attack gets through. The cudgel does 3 FAT damage. The leather armor absorbs 1 of that. Felewin is -1D for Fitness tasks; Felewin hits for 2 FAT, 2 INJ against the jailer. The jailer has no armor so it all gets through.
[14] Mythic question: Is the man local (unlikely)? Yes (32)
[15] Scene setup: Altered (1)
[16] Rather than complicated question for Mythic, I used Iron Gauntlets and rolled a composure role for each. 3 is the skill number, they need 2 successes, each has 2 dice.Two keep their composure and attack. The rest run. I rolled out the attack: two unarmed, unskilled attackers with knives against a skilled opponent? The only question was whether he’d get hurt a bit taking them down, and he didn’t.The twist: It’s not the boy being sacrificed.
[17] Scene setup: Altered (5)
[18] The twist: It’s not the boy being sacrificed. Okay, this takes it away from what I had imagined. So from here out, it’s new.
[19] Second move is for Felewin to try to stab the priest. Felewin is going to commit one additional action. He hits the priest (for 2 FAT and 2 INJ); the priest has no armor except for a ceremonial mask. The priest fails to dodge away.Priest stabs at Felewin. He misses, so Felewin stabs him again, for 1 overkill, so the priest is dead. Now the other cultists react.
[20] Scene setup: Unaltered.This is the climactic battle. The choice of a medusa is intentional--a matter of “what lives in temples?” The details of medusa biology are mine.
[21] Iron Gauntlets: Well, you’ll see how the fight goes. General rules: When possible, he’ll try two actions (additional 1D in the reaction roll). She’s confident but if her snakes can attack, will reserve two extra actions (2D in the reaction roll): She won’t do that until she is near enough to him for brawling.
[22] Mythic question: Does he look into her eyes at this point in the combat? (Unlikely, I think: He’s trying not to.) No (60)
[23] Felewin gets a 1 and a 2 on reaction, Medusa gets an 8, he goes first. He parries as she moves in, then hits well for 2 INJ of damage. Her Toughness takes 1 away of that.
[24] Scene setup: This is the wrap-up scene, and I didn’t roll for it. All I did was tie up loose ends. Other things that I didn’t bother to put in? Since Bolya was the head priest, I figure he never actually sent anyone to Baron Coodna.
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