That made Gord do a bit of thinking. What did he actually feel about the tough female knight? She was good-looking – in a hardened, sun-browned way. Her hair was light brown and streaked with highlights the color of the morning sunbeams as they lanced through the foliage of the forest. Her complexion, tanned as it was, still showed fairness and a scattering of tiny freckles across her nose and cheekbones. Despite her obvious ability, her familiarity with the outdoor life, and her muscular development, Deirdre was a desirable woman. Her armor could hide neither her prettiness nor the form that bespoke her sex. The hard steel had been shaped to conform to her curves, and imagination could easily fill in the rest, that which the metal actually concealed. No matter; Gord had seen far more beautiful women – courtesans, daughters of rich merchants, even mere trollops.
"I can get a piece of ass in many places," Gord said then, looking Incosee squarely in the eye, "and without the bitch supplying the favor demanding she be dominatrix in the bargain!"
All of the rest laughed at this, and Gord thought it was more because they doubted than believed his remonstration. He started away angrily, only to bump into both Deirdre and Oscar standing and waiting for the group to stop their banter and notice them.
"Druid Greenleaf and Lord Gellor have asked that you all join in a conference," the girl said icily. The disdain on her face was plain evidence that she had heard the whole exchange.
Gord remained quite composed. "Please inform our comrades that we will be there momentarily," he said without a trace of embarrassment.
When Deirdre turned and went back to where the two men waited, her face was flushed, but whether from anger or shame, Gord couldn't tell. The slight magic-user grinned at the assembled adventurers, bowed slightly, and then followed his companion.
Blonk made the number of the party thirteen. Nobody liked that much – not even the rugged mercenary, from what he said. Still, he was committed to the quest now, having left Badwall in somewhat of a questionable situation. They couldn't ask Blonk to return there now; whether from town officials or pursuing foes, his life would be in definite danger. So eleven had suddenly become thirteen, a dozen men and one woman – all seasoned adventurers and veterans of many a tight situation.
This group was to pierce the trackless tangles of the heart of the Suss Forest, find a lost ruin there, recover a bit of some strange and occult object of eldritch origin, and carry it safely into the hands of those who fought against Evil. Very well, they would do it or perish!
Deirdre and her associate Oscar had managed to traverse the woodland often, journeying between parts of the Wild Coast and Celene on affairs upon which neither party elaborated. Blonk too had had some experience in the Suss, traveling and hunting it frequently during the past years. That was sufficient when coupled with the information Curley said he would furnish when the time was ripe. After a brief discussion as to how to array themselves for the coming trek, the party ended their council. Next morning they would begin the most trying part of their quest.
The usual watch was kept that night, with two sentries rather than one because the party was now relatively large. Curley Greenleaf was quite concerned about their tracks, for Deirdre and Oscar had managed to follow without difficulty. One sentinel was posted to observe there, while the other guarded the horses and watched the other perimeter of the small encampment.
The druid made a point of assigning duty so that from midnight on, first Gord, then Curley himself, would stand watch along their backtrail. Gord was trusted, of course, but Green-leaf also knew of the power that his sword bestowed upon the young thief. Between this special vision and the elven sight that Greenleaf possessed, it would be nearly impossible for attackers to surprise the party in the dark. This meant that Curley expected trouble, and that it would come from adversaries able to see in darkness, and Gord was speculating as to the nature of possible attackers throughout his two plus hours of standing guard. Nothing of unusual nature occurred, however. At the end of his period of sentry duty, he awoke the druid and headed back to his own bedroll to finish off the night with a couple more hours of sleep.
Gord saw his old friend alert the three apprentices – he couldn't ever recall their names – and then awaken the magic-user, Oscar. After a whispered conference, the apprentices fanned out along the edge of the copse as Curley and Oscar stole out of the camp eastward, surely going back over the route they had followed to gain their current position within the stand of trees. Gord was tired, but he stayed awake to learn what was going on. About half an hour later, the pair came back to the encampment. Oscar and the fledgling druids said nothing, simply returning to their places and going back to sleep. Mystified, Gord decided he'd ask about it in the morning and settled down to sleep. Full sleep would not come, but the young adventurer remained quiet and dozed off and on for about an hour, possibly longer, until he heard a distant but loud voice that sounded much like Oscar's. This was followed immediately by yells and shrieks coming from the same direction. He sprang up to learn what was happening, and in a moment everyone in the small clearing was awake and arming.
"Curley!" Gord demanded in a low voice so pitched as to carry only as far as where the druid stood. "What's going on?"
"Got the buggers!" Greenleaf replied, chortling with glee. "I thought some filthy humanoids would be used to dog our trail! Did you hear 'em howl? That was 'Uroz' they were shrieking… ores they are!"
Before Gord could reply, the wizard from Hardby began an incantation that drew the young thiefs attention. Outlined against the red glow to the east – the light of a spreading grass fire, not the rising sun – was a swarm of dark figures. Even as they ran toward the copse that sheltered the party, Gord saw a faint flickering emanate from Oscar's fingertips. The phenomenon disappeared instantly, and suddenly a burning sphere appeared in the midst of the onrushing attackers. It was nearly three hundred yards distant, but the globe expanded and burst with a roar, the blazing light nearly blinding Gord in the process. There were more cries, and the survivors of the fireball's terrible destruction ran right and left.
All thought of making an attack upon those within the grove of trees was certainly gone. The grass and scrub growth was blazing now – two walls of flame moving outward and toward each other. Gord was glad not to be on the receiving end of whatever the druid had done, let alone Oscar's deadly blast of magical fire. The wizard loosed a pair of lightning bolts in quick succession for good measure. These, however, came from a stubby wand Oscar had drawn from his wide sleeve.
"Hurry!" Gellor called. "Ride west quickly! Don't you think there'll be retaliation coming soon as those dogs' masters can manage to come up and deliver it?" The bard was already mounting his stallion as he spoke. Gord ran to join him, as did Oscar.
The others had saddled the mounts, and all of the party's gear was ready as well. In seconds all thirteen were in the saddle and urging their horses through the stand of timber toward the opposite side. As they broke from the copse and trotted westward, a veritable storm of fire and flashes of lightning broke out among the trees behind them. Gellor had been right, of course.
"They come after us in force!" shouted Deirdre.
"They'll be more careful after this, though," replied Greenleaf. "Thanks, Oscar, for setting up that magical voice to trigger my little berry fire trap!"
Gord filed away another mental note. In the future he would certainly be wary of cooperation between spell-workers of different callings, such as druid and magic-user. Either alone was deadly, but it seemed that in conjunction, their effect was more dangerous still.