The defects and faults of the mind are like wounds in the body; after all imaginable care has been taken to heal them up, still there will be a scar left behind.”
-Roche Foucauld, Bakluni sage
Windy Crag has always been a place of beauty and elegance. After the mansion was burned to the ground and the rightful owner returned, reconstruction appears to be almost finished. The stout graceful minarets and delicate wrought iron gates welcomed any and all weary travelers. Last time Windy Crag graced me with her open arms, Thrommel and I came at the call to a diplomatic dinner put on by the Gold family. Always the mischievous one, I knew Thrommel had a plan…
“M”Hael, on our way to Madame Gold’s I was thinking that we might pass through the Gnarley. In my research of the royal maps, I discovered an old hunting trail that would allow us to expedite our journey to Windy Crag as well as scout some of father’s borders?” spoke Thrommel without a hint of ulterior motive.
Knowing full well that in his research, Thrommel had probably unearthed some ancient ruin or place of mystery, I eventually agreed after my own divinations concurred with my suspicions, “Of course, I will have the gear brought to the stables and I shall summon U’anu and As’iki to take us on our journey.” Thrommel always loved the twin celestial pegasi I summoned from the Beastlands to spirit us away on his half cocked plans of adventure. His majesty, King Blevor always hinted at the fact he disapproved his son riding on the back of a flying horse, but never interfering, as I was charged with his protection and education. As I speculated, we did run into adventure on that journey into the Gnarley, ultimately leaving the Forest a safer place.
Unprepared for the flood of memories that assaulted me upon gazing at the Gold Estate I look back and realize that I took the same hunting trail that Thrommel and I took all those years ago.
Realizing that I am early for my appointment I approach on foot from a good distance away, dismissing Ash so as to not alarm the locals, the nightmare steed always serving so faithfully, not by choice but by sheer will alone I command her to do my bidding. If she is serving me then that is one less brimstone courier for the underworld to use.
Walking up to Dame Gold’s mansion I produced the summons to give to the guard that she had accepted my petition for an audience without delay. I was shown to the waiting hall and asked if I needed anything. Shaking my head I began walking around the newly rebuilt grand audience hall. Clearly built and designed as a testament to impress, it cataloged Dame’s life from childhood to most currently, Windy Crag halfway completed in its rebuilding. Now almost finished the frescoes that I was most interested in were depictions of Dame’s most turbulent and victorious periods. A series of 5 frescoes, the first showed what a appeared to be some sort of ancient sea going vessel, bearing a yellow sail, its crew disembarking on Windy Crags beach head and capturing anyone who happened to be in the area and throwing them in irons as a slaving ring might perform. Another fresco also showing the complete looting and burning of the Dame Gold mansion. Scene after scene showed he capture, transport and ultimate rescue from the raiders of the yellow sails by a band of hero’s. It was the last fresco in this particular series that I was most interested in.
At what appeared to be a major banquet in the halls of the palace of Greyhawk, many important players were shown accepting honors for the rescue of Dame Gold and the subsequent destruction of the slaving ring. Faces that I recognized, Neroff Gasgal, Dame Gold, the sitting council of Greyhawk at the time, the Gynarch of Hardby, and those individuals responsible for the rescue.
The last fresco is why I was here.
From behind a small breeze pushed what could only be Madame Gold’s perfume into the hall. Not wanting her to know that I know she is there I wait for her to make the first move. “M’Hael, pardon me, Master Fangorn, so good of you to grace Windy Crag again after so many years,” correcting herself, forgetting I no longer chose to use the mantle of M’Hael, greeted me with open arms.
I turn and look into Dame’s eyes and bow according to Furyondian tradition, right leg straight, boot tip pointed up, bowing at the hip. “Madame Gold, so good to see you again and blessings upon you and all that you hold dear.”
“Thank you Market,” with a warm smile, “so do you like the frescos? They have cost almost as much as rebuilding my home.”
“Beautiful, yes and the purpose for my visit actually, particularly this one” smiling back I point to the one of depicting the hero’s responsible for Dame’s freedom from the slavers.
“Well, do you wish to steal away my artisan to decorate Fangorn Estate’s then? If so then I may have to pay her even more to keep her here at Windy Crag!” challenging me playfully.
“No, no, where are my manners, let us catch up first over some wine I procured from my cellar and then we can discuss why I am here,” as I pull a bottle of my finest vintage from my travel sack and hand it to one of her service maids.
Several hours pass and well into the evening I broach the topic of why I am visiting.
Pouring another glass of wine for my host I stand and walk over to the fresco titled “redemption”. Without looking back I ask, “Dame may I inquire of the artisan?”
“Of course, what do you wish to know?”
“Everything,” I state a little too forcefully.
“Well to start off, she is blind. Nora lives here, she is in her later teens and as you can see a master at her work.” Dame says.
Not as shocked as others may be, I could only assume that to be able to portray such likeness could only have a mystical connection. “Are the portraits as accurate as they appear, they seem to be near perfect reflections, as if their standing in front of me.”
“Yes they are. Nora places her hands upon your face, reads what she needs to paint and the result is as you see there,” pointing to the wall.
“I have read your memoirs and it seems that here,” pointing to an impeccably elegant man in gleaming ceremonial armor accented with the deepest of purple, “is Vladimir Bo Susthiat, most recently knighted and bestowed a token of land, shouldered with nobility and self proclaimed leader of the Band of the Silver Circle.”
Smiling with pride, “You have read my memoirs and taken good notes. You are correct of course.”
“Face hardened by time in the saddle and battles countless, he is a handsome man…” I state, intently memorizing every detail of the portrait, down to the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.
“Is that a rhetorical question,” Dame asks teasing?
“…and this here must be his council, Uzniel Zur,” robed in the finest of silks from Zeif, trim encrusted with bloodstones from the lands of Blackmoor, eyes dark and brooding, lost in thought. Seeing that I was lost in thought, Dame remained silent, watching, wondering. A common theme that all the hero’s show are the scars on the wrists of being shackled into slavery, Dame included.
“The one with the mischievous grin must be the one who calls himself Lukky,” seeing a pair of dice in his hand, ready to toss against a wall at the first opportunity of a game of chance.
“Stump E’ Wood, an enigma among dwarves and man alike, the most seasoned of them all…” scratching my chin, I stare intently at all the hero’s as if the fresco is trying to tell me something. Many others grace the banquet hall in the background as if filling in the void spaces of the fresco, I turn to Dame. “May I speak with Nora?” still gazing at the fresco.
“Now? I suppose if she is still up. I will summon her.”
Several minutes later one of Dame’s servants entered guiding a homely teenager to the adjacent sofa. “Master Fangorn, It is so nice to meet you finally,” spoke Nora, still getting accustomed to the formalities of nobility.
“Finally,” I ask, questioningly, still studying the fresco’s, looking for any clue.
“Yes, I identified your sent from Madame Gold’s memories. I knew you were here,” Nora said shyly, Dame putting her hand upon her shoulder, reassuring her, white milky eyes looking in my general direction but yet looking at nothing at the same time.
As I turned to join Dame and Nora back on the sofa it struck me, in the corner of my eye, peripheral vision catching it in that one half a heartbeat, almost missed, “There…” I whisper as the wind just was sucked out of me. In the background of the hero’s portraits I see him, standing in utmost confidence, laughing and entertaining a group of preening noble women. Wed and betrothed women hanging on every word, waiting for the opportunity to steel him away to a strange bed, for a single moment of ecstasy, throwing all caution to the wind.
Like a whips crack I turn to look at Dame and pointing behind me I ask, “Do you know who this is?” panting as if I had just been chased by a yeth hound.
“No, Market…is everything okay?” Dame asks alarmed.
Whispering, “Now I’ve got you Mazrim! Dame, I need to know all there is to know about these individuals depicted here and where they may be found. Starting with this one,” I point to the robed figure of Uzniel Zur. My plan, to start with those who knew and traveled with him following the trail of crumbs.
Another hour goes by and I explain everything to Dame and Nora the ramifications of my search. Nora needing to know the importance, as she alone could possible paint me a direction. Now I have a face to a name, most likely not his own but his ego will betray him. I told Dame only what she needed to know, that I was looking for this man, Mazrim and that his old traveling cohorts may know where to find him. The silver circle probably didn’t even know he was there.
“Nora, can you read me and possibly tell me where I might find these men?” I ask.
“There is a down side to Nora’s viewings that she just discovered. As she read me, not only does she see what I see, but also experiences what I experiences what she see’s, as if she were there. Ultimately bearing the good and the bad upon her body,” rolling up Nora’s sleeve Dame showed me shackle scars that had duplicated themselves upon Nora’s body.
“Nora was in bed for a month recuperating, the same amount of time I was resting when I was rescued from the slavers,” warmed Dame to Nora as if saying she was sorry that Nora had to relive the pain and torture of what Dame had gone through.
Placing a hand on Madame’s Gold hand, Nora whispered, “It seems that this is important, therefore I want to do it.”
“Master Market will you please come here and sit beside me, so that I may put my hands upon your face.” Gently spoke Nora.
Eagerly I do as commanded so that I may learn more of the direction my quest takes me.
The young girl rubs her hands together and placed them upon the sides of my face, my eyes gazing into her milky clouded eyes.
Within a fraction of a second I could sense Nora in my mind, like a bird soaring through clouds, peace and innocents flooding my thoughts.
Just as fast, Nora’s eyes turned dead black as if replaced with onyx, the white draining from them rapidly, her body spasms as if jolted with a bolt of lightning. I hear a growl off into the distance coming from deep within her throat, my eyes locked on Nora’s face, not a care in the world, her peace still flooding my mind. Obsidien eyes starring at me, tears of blood flowing down her cheeks.
Baring her teeth, lips curling back, her jaw clenched so tight that I could see her teeth shatter and break, blood flowing from her gums. Her jaw opens, shattered teeth hanging on by a single root dangling from her bleeding gums. As her mouth opened she spit out a piece of tongue onto the floor that had just been bit off and a howl issued forth. So loud and ungodly the sound, her jaw snapping and bone breaking, becoming unhinged from the effort, the corners of her mouth tearing, one statement issued forth through a blood gurgling voice…”Seek Garon Malorn”
At that her hands fall from my face and her body collapses in a trembling heap.
Dame screaming for help, I realize now what I did to that poor girl. She took all the horror i had witnessed in my life and lived it in a matter of seconds tearing her mind and body apart. Strangly enough I felt as though she was still with me, her peace filling a place in my heart that had long been an open wound. She took as much pain as she could from me and replaced it with…hope, and had given me that best lead I had in years.
Time to summon Garon Malorn…
