Vulūne 10-12, 653 DR: After some soul-searching, Jak convinces others to return and capture the Acèntyri “spy”, Calyèdin. Gældor and the monks take the wagon with Graiç south into the Ancient Mounds. Group crosses the Shyl Elōe and discovers that Spiritriders are looking for them. Ruins in the rain. The last stand of Calyèdin. Blind, bound, and gagged. A desperate fisherman. Camping in unknown lands. A disfigured Jak.

Continued from Flames for the Risen.

Talídor, 10 Vulūne 653

The group sat around a small fire, a ring of palms circling the flames for warmth. As they talked, they spoke in small white clouds, more evidence that autumn was upon them. Jak rubbed his wrists, wondering what was wrong with his arms. He had been troubled the last couple days with thoughts of the man they’d left in the north ruins. The man was a spy for the Empire’s enemies, and he wasn’t at all sure how he should feel about that. After thinking this through, he had decided that as a Ðard, it was his duty to capture this man and turn him into the local authorities. Who knew what mayhem the spy might cause if he were to reach his Acèntyra homeland. Jak spoke of this revelation to the group, and the group decided to assist him in capturing the spy. Gældor described how best to reach the ruins of Ðyr Kænōyn from their current location, explaining that the Shyl Elōe shores were dotted with fishing villages where cheap crossing could be bought. Gældor offered to take the monks and the inanimate Graiç into the Ancient Mounds and wait for the group there. This was agreed upon and the group split, with Jak leading the remainder of the group north. Conversation then turned to questions of tactics, and what should be done with Calyèdin should he be found and captured. After cleaning up camp, the group walked north.

They reached the estuary shore by midday and found a small village named Ellum shortly thereafter. They managed to negotiate with an old fisherman and his son to be ferried across the Shyl Elōe. As the sail filled and the fishing boat moved across the water, the village behind them came alive with activity. The old fisherman looked ahead, pretending not to notice the ruckus. His son watched intently at the villagers waving their arms and yelling, though their words were lost upon the waves and wind. The boat landed near the village of Agdnam, disembarking onto the northern shore. After the fishermen were paid their remaining Aêlin, and the group moved hastily inland. Cutting through bushes and briars, they climbed the sloping shore until they found the Road to Cwæyl. They traveled along the road until dark, and then moved into the woods for the evening. Fyrgol estimated that they were about a watch from Dagràdyrēa and should make the ruins of Ðyr Kænōyn tomorrow.

Each watch that fire-less night kept a careful eye on the road below and the clouds gathering above.

Padídor, 11 Vulūne 653

Camp was rolled up quickly in the rain. Cold and wet, the group struck out toward Ðyr Kænōyn. Jak wrists throbbed as they walked, with nothing that he could do to ease the pain. Fyrgol guided them through the denuded rolling hills around Dagràdyrēa, where the saw mills and lumber yards were left empty and quiet in the downpour. Moving among the stumps and log runs, the group pushed forward through the rain and wind. Half-way through the day, they crossed the Road to Cwæyl and trudged through the tall coastal grasses that surrounded the stony ruins. The ruins of Ðyr Kænōyn stood in silhouette before the lightning strikes that danced across the distant ocean waves. They had successfully returned.

The group moved quietly among the high grass and fallen stones of Ðyr Kænōyn. The place hadn’t changed since they left. It still looked abandoned. Moving toward the cliff-face, they entered the inner wall, turning down the stone stairs to the levels below. At the lowest basement they entered the open room, with a magnificent vantage of the sea beyond and its distant lightning strikes. There, in the wind and sea spray stood the older man with his maille and mace. The old spy narrowed his eyes as the group filtered inward, positioning themselves around him. Zêla began to explain why they had returned, but there was no need. He swung his mace at Fyrgol, who maneuvered away from the cornered man. Next, Calyedin turned and swung his mace up into Ērēus’s groin with a sickening crunch. The Amri warrior collapsed to the wet cobbles, gasping in pain. Grinning through the pain shooting from his wrists, Jak stabbed twice with his spear, drawing blood through the man’s maille. Tressta moved forward and stabbed poorly with her saber, as their Feyri companion darted toward the open wall to examine the traveler’s chest. Noticing the weak attack, the spy lunged toward Tressta hoping to make a break for the stairs, but as he swung the mace came loose in his hands and he faltered, the spear wounds bleeding freely after his quick movements. Tressta stepped aside and stabbed him in the arm as Jak tried to knock the mace from his hand. Leaning against the rear wall of the chamber, Calyedin weakly readied his mace. He looked at those circling him and then at the blood pooling on the floor at his feet, before falling unconscious. Zildara stepped forward from the staircase to tend to his wounds as Zêla saw to bandaging him. Jak stood back, wondering what was wrong with his wrists. Fyrgol offered a rope to Tressta who bound the prisoner’s hands and feet. Using Calyedin’s key, Tressta opened the chest and went through the spy’s things. Once Ērēus was recovered, he helped Zildara don the spy’s armor, who in turn was dressed in villager’s clothes. Tressta grabbed a bear skin and Zêla took an elaborate folding chair. The chest was then broken into pieces and thrown over the cliff.

Jak and Ērēus took turns carrying the man from the keep. In the ruined courtyard, Zildara healed the man some more. Back into the cold and rain, Fyrgol hanged back, doing his best to cover the group’s tracks as they left. After a watch or more, the man awoke bound, blindfolded, and gagged. He wrestled some, but was too weak to fight. Within a short time, the group grew tired and moved off the road into the woods shy of Dagràdyrēa. They dropped their captive onto the ground and made the best camp that they could manage. Everyone was cold, shivering, and wet. It would be another night without fire, effectively behind enemy lines. Watches were established, rations were chewed, and the group slept as best they could.

Bærídor, 12 Vulūne 653

That night, while Jak was rubbing his sore wrists, he spied two white shapes moving along the distant road, beyond the trees. The Ðard moved quietly through the rainy campsite, waking his companions: Ērēus and Tressta. As he did so, one of the shapes hesitated and turned toward the camp. It moved away from the road and up through the trees, where it’s ghostly form passed through underbrush and tree trunks like they were shadows. The ethereal shape stopped shy of the group’s circle and stood there gleaming in the night. The Taldànyn woke the Feyri who immediately identified the apparition as a “spirit horse”. Fyrgol explained that it was part of a search patrol, sent to find them. He explained that the spirit riders would not be long behind. Zêla withdrew her zither and played a soft melody to help heal Ērēus’s remaining injury so that he could move more easily as the others collected their camp to move south.

As dawn peeked through the parting rain clouds, the group was moving south of the Road to Cwæyl, pushing through the high grasses and briars as they moved as quickly as possible toward the shore. The pain in Jak’s wrists was almost unbearable, leaving the spy carrying duties to Ērēus, who was still suffering from his own wound. Fyrgol moved ahead of the group, trying to find the best path to the shore and hoping that news of their movements hadn’t reached the fishing villages along the bay. Hidden movements were impossible because the ghost horse followed them everywhere, watching their every step.

At the shore they managed to hail a fishing boat. The fisherman balked at the scene of well-armed foreigners and pursued by a ghostly horse, but he overcame his fears as a handful of Aêlin were shown. The man pulled his boat to shore and let the motley group climb on.As the boat pulled from shore, the fishermen looked warily behind them as the ghost horse stepped upon the water and crossed the river as if it were solid. The fishermen looked from the spirit horse to the well-armed party many times during their crossing, and wondered whether the promised coins were worth abetting the enemies of Æylyri Ildûn. It was too late for changing his mind. As the boat drew close to shore, Jak gave out a painful cry. He held his arms out in front of his staring eyes, wondering what was wrong with his hands. Everyone in the boat watched as the spearman’s hands turned unnaturally at the ends of his arms. With a number of bone-cracking snaps his hands reversed themselves at the end of his forearms. He looked up with a puzzled look, wondering what it meant but relieved that the pain was already subsiding.

Continued in Battle of Eroewyl.

Characters

• Fyrgol = 3+1 CPs (154)
• Jak of Cænden = 4 CPs (228)
• Tressta Drynsval = 3 CPs (220)
• Baggar of Ealyma (Monk)
• Calyedin of Moreun
• Caragd of Hores (Fisherman)
• Ērēus of Amra = 3 CPs (312)
• Familiar = Unkn.
• Gældor of Nyn = 2+1 CPs (170)
• Graiç of Mazzam = 0 CPs
• Grymgrykalya = 1 CPs (79)
• Hores of Ellum (Fisherman)
• Keléis of Ealyma (Monk)
• Margyna of Ealyma (Monk)
• Tygrageelya (Spirit)
• Yelm the Fisherman
• Zêla ma Ler = 2 CPs (173)
• Zildara of Zalan = 2 CPs (203)

Played: 12 Jan 2008