“I heard there was a madman being kept somewhere in there,” Jerdren replied.
“He’s not mad, though you might think so, the way he talks. He’s a mercenary from the east. Speaks Common but not well. If I understand right, he was guiding a company here, and most of ’em were taken from around their campfire late one night. He remembers what sound to me like orcs and gnolls—like spotted dogs but man’s height, two-legged like men, and armed. The curate thought him mad on that count alone. Guess he’s never heard of gnolls.”
“Not supposed to be any this far south,” Jerdren replied.
“I asked the curate if we could send Mead in to try his spells on the fellow and got permission. The elves are there now. With luck, we may get more information out of him, and the curate said he’d find us a priest, if we decide to go.”
“There’s that other priest,” Jerdren said. He wiped foam from his lip. “You know, the one at the inn? Has a couple novices, both under some vow of silence, I guess. But the priest himself—he’s a cheerful sort. Comes here at times to talk with folks, drink and all. I hear he’s been talking lately about going out to smite the wicked, or some such thing.”
Blorys glanced at him. “I don’t think we’d want him with us.”
“Why, Brother? Supposed to be a powerful priest. Seems we might need one of those.”
“I agree we might, but I got the feeling the curate doesn’t trust the man. He’s master of the local house, so I say we’d be wise to listen to him.”
Jerdren considered this. “Maybe. This madman maybe could draw us a map?”
“He has one,” Blorys said. “He wouldn’t let me have it, but maybe Mead can persuade him. From what I saw, it’s much better than what we have now.”
A short while later, Eddis and M’Baddah left to check on the girl and take her food and drink. She still wore M’Whan’s old jerkin, but her new things were spread out across the bed. She had readily opened the door when M’Baddah asked her, but she wouldn’t move beyond the entry.
When Eddis broached the subject of leaving the Keep, Blot—now Flerys—nodded vigorously.
“Good. I go, too—with you.” Her eyes were anxious.
Eddis nodded in turn. “You go with us,” she agreed. The child settled cross-legged on the floor, sniffed cautiously at her bread and cheese, and bit into it, sighed contentedly as she chewed.
A few minutes later, the two fighters walked back to the tavern. “Gods, M’Baddah. If I get her killed…”
“She is safer with us than where she was,” M’Baddah said, “and she is not as helpless as you fear, my Eddis.”
Most of the company, including the elves, now occupied the far corner. Blorys smiled as Eddis got settled.
“The child is doing well?” he asked. She nodded. “Bad news is the madman won’t come here—won’t set foot outside the chapel,” Blorys said. “But … well, Mead can tell you.”
“He is not mad, but he has reason for his fears,” the elf said. “After he was made prisoner, he and the others were moved from one cavern to another. It was always dark, there was always the smell of old death, and each time they were fewer until he was alone. Often he was tortured, but he does not know why, since they asked him no questions. One day, he found himself chained to a wall, and there were two other prisoners. Their guards were hobgoblins. He gave himself up for dead then, but all at once he heard the sound of battle, and men charged into the chamber, led by a huge fellow in black furs and bright armor. The hobgoblins died or fled, the men released the prisoners and started for the outside world. Just as they could see light in the distance, they were attacked. The man was knocked unconscious and woke in a silent, dark corner. He made his way to the road. After many days of walking and hiding, a hunting party from the Keep found him. He sent this.” Mead handed over a much-folded piece of parchment. Someone had drawn a rough map. The lines and writing were very shaky. “The curate says he began that not long after he first came here.”
“Any chance it’s useful?” Eddis asked.
“I think so,” Mead said. “The man is not mad, and though he remembers little of his journey here from the caves, he recalled much of the caves themselves. He also mentioned rumors of a human priest inside the caves who often demanded victims for sacrifice—and something about the undead.” He looked around the table. “I have no magic to turn the undead.”
“No,” Jerdren said, “but a priest would. That man of yours, Eddis—Panev. He said he’d come and gladly. The curate says he’ll do well by us. I talked to Ferec just now. He’s got a man looking for whatever hard information there may be in old Macsen’s records.”
By late that night, he and Eddis had a solid count of twenty to go with them. The dwarves met with them only long enough to eat, answer a few questions, and add to Jerdren’s map of the lands outside the Keep. They left as soon as the meat and beer were gone.
The next few days were busy. Jerdren ran them all through some maneuvers, and they laid in provisions. Eddis made arrangements with the castellan to have emergency supplies of food and other needs ready for them, if they had to come back for such things, and he arranged for horsemen to escort the mounted party as far as a base camp well up the east road, to keep the horses and return every few days, so they could be reprovisioned, and any wounded could be returned to the Keep, if need be.
Finally, there, was nothing left to do except choose a day and hour to set out. Jerdren called a last meeting at the tavern late in the afternoon. Eddis settled as far as possible from Kadymus. The little thief was too smug for her taste, and she still didn’t trust him to keep his fingers to himself.
She and M’Baddah sat against the wall, a wary Flerys between them. She wore sturdy boots and dark pants and shirt. M’Baddah had found a hardened leather vest that would serve her as armor, as well as a shortbow and arrows, and three long throwing knives on a belt, and he’d persuaded her to join him them for target practice. Eddis knew Jerdren was still unhappy about the girl’s presence, but he’d seen the results of the outlander’s lessons: The girl was reasonably accurate with the bow and not afraid to use the knives.
Jerdren brought her attention back to the moment as he clapped his hands to get the party’s attention. “One last meal here tonight, then everyone off for a good night’s sleep—ah, right, Eddis?”
She nodded.
“We’ll leave tomorrow at first light,” he went on. “Wager whatever you like, tomorrow will be a very long day.”
It had been Eddis’ suggestion that they leave so early. “We can come back to cheering crowds, Jerdren. Better we simply go and get this done, don’t you think?”
The company of men who would take care of their horses and bring them supplies led the way out the gate and down the still-shadowed road. Flerys rode behind M’Baddah, one hand clinging to his belt. The rest were strung out along the road.
They stopped an hour later to rest the horses and refill their water bottles. The familiar swampy country went by on their right, and now Eddis could clearly see the mound where lizardmen were said to live. It was far enough away that she couldn’t make out anything else.
Midday came and went. The company halted briefly for food. The air was clear and cool, and there was open ground all around them. Soon after, the ground began to rise and the hills to close in. Before long, the sky was a strip of deep blue, high above, and shadow lay heavily. The road wound down into a ravine, the sides rising steep and crumbly above their heads. Now and again, rock scree slid down toward them, but Eddis saw no sign of anything that might have loosened the slide.
On Jerdren’s suggestion, the company made no more stops but walked the horses to rest them instead. Now the lead and rear guards rode with drawn swords and strung bows, and the elves kept watch on both flanks.