Arising before dawn, Ren dressed in shining elven chain mail and mounted a freshly brushed and curried Stolen. They galloped into the Quivering Forest and traveled for an hour, smelling the fresh green woods around them. Even though this was the rainy season, Ren hadn't seen the sun in five weeks. But the new spring growth in the forest was the thickest he had ever seen. He inhaled deeply and savored the smell of wet earth and blooming trees.
Rounding what he knew was the final bend in the river before reaching Phlan, Ren and Stolen emerged from the woods. The ranger reined in his horse in shock. He sat for long minutes, dumbfounded, gazing at the scene before him.
Phlan wasn't there.
There should have been huge walls patrolled by armed guards; there should have been towers and battlements; and Denlor's Tower should have been visible looming over the city. Instead, as far as he could see, only a sooty smear of multicolored tents stood against the backdrop of the crystal clear Moonsea. Where Phlan had once stood, there was now a bay. The city was gone.
Ren spurred his horse forward. Beyond the tents, the ranger could see a few merchant ships and fishing boats tied to what looked like a hastily constructed dock.
Stolen trotted along the edge of the river as Ren searched for a place to cross. Riding closer to the tent city, the ranger noticed some type of rafting operation that hadn't been there on his last visit to Phlan. As he neared, he saw armed guards working a rope winch.
"Good morning, troopers," Ren hailed the three. He forced himself to sound pleasant despite his rotten mood. "Uh, when did Phlan disappear?"
"The gods took the city a month and a week ago," one of the rough troopers said gruffly.
The winch hauled a large raft back from the tent city and over to Ren's side of the river.
"By the gods, seems like yesterday," another trooper added. "The only people you'll see in New Phlan are those who were away from the city on the night of the storm." Stolen nickered a warning and backed up. Ren patted the horse's neck.
A sandy-haired guard, older than the others, approached the ranger. "Quite a beast you have there. Don't think I ever saw a horse that large or that gray. What business do you have in New Phlan?" His tone was hostile. The other two troopers loosened their weapons and stood behind their leader.
"My name is Ren o' the Blade. Perhaps you've heard of me?" The ranger used his most polite tone, the one he reserved for guards who thought they were bigger than life.
The three exchanged glances, backing away at the mention of Ren's name. After the battles he had won with Shal and Tarl many years ago, there weren't many people in Phlan who didn't know the names of the trio. The ranger could tell that these three were no different. They knew of his reputation, all right. The scowling looks on their faces changed to ones of respect, then worry. The three glanced at each other, then the leader cleared his throat and addressed Ren.
"Will you be looking for the cleric Tarl and the sorceress Shal? They were in their tower when the gods took the city. The people of Phlan, including your friends, haven't been heard from since that night." The older trooper was the only one brave enough to explain and risk upsetting the ranger.
"What's your name, trooper?"
"Shelly, noble ranger. I have been appointed by the council of New Phlan to operate this ferry service. We usually charge whatever one can pay for the ride, but we'll cross you for free. It's the least we can do for a hero of Phlan." The trooper's look was pleading. Deep down, he was hoping that Ren might help locate the city.
The ranger stared hard at the three. He tried to assess whether they were really who they said they were. Maybe they were thieves trying to rob honest citizens trying to get into Phlan. Then Ren realized he was glaring and softened his look. "Who did you say operates this ferry?"
"The council, sir. The profits go to feed the homeless-in case you were wondering."
The ranger was convinced. He dismounted and led Stolen onto the huge raft. The craft was so enormous the logs didn't even dip into the water when the huge war-horse stepped on. Shelly followed the pair onto the raft.
"Tell me, Shelly, how much would you have tried to charge me?"
The raft started to move as the other two troopers cranked the winch.
The sandy-haired warrior hesitated nervously, then drew himself up. "Why, I would have insisted on at least a gold piece for a fine-looking warrior like yourself, sir."
Ren grinned and tossed two gold coins to the man. Slapping him on the back, Ren tried to sound friendly. "Thank you for the information, Shelly. See that the homeless get this."
Shelly was obviously pleased by this gesture. He softened up a bit and no longer seemed as jumpy around the legendary ranger. "Many thanks, sir. And watch out for the first councilman. Lord Bartholomew is a rough one, Ren o' the Blade!" the old guard offered.
During the rest of the short journey, Ren asked Shelly if he knew anything else about the city's disappearance. The trooper knew little more than silly rumors, and the ranger realized that most of the sparse information was only idle chatter.
The tent city that sprawled before Ren was a huge, dismal thing. A large corral for horses stood to the north of the city. The wretched smell made it obvious that horse droppings were regularly tossed into the river. Greasy cooking fires sent plumes of smoke up over the village. Most of the tents along the river were little more than ceilings of canvas with open sides or blankets propped against ladders or wooden planks. Ren hoped there were some answers to be found, but his mood worsened as he looked about. He seriously doubted that anything useful would be found in New Phlan. His heart felt heavy in his chest. Even Stolen seemed somber.
As the raft approached the bank, ten troopers stood ready to meet it. They were led by a tall knight wearing plate mail armor. The knight's crest proclaimed him to be of the Wainwright clan, but Ren had met other members of the Wainwright family and found them much more refined than this gruff-looking fellow. Before even a polite hello could be offered, the leader began bellowing orders at Ren.
"By the order of the great and noble Lord Bartholomew and the council of New Phlan, your horse must be stabled with the other mounts of the city."
The ranger didn't like the tone of this fool. Ren's patience had worn thin. He wasn't in the mood for delays, not when an entire city was missing.
Shelly came to his aid. "Lord Wainwright, you know not who you bark at. This fine gent is none other than Ren o' the Blade. He's come to help us get our city back." Ren winced at the confidence in Shelly's voice, but the man spoke well.
Shelly continued. "Back your men off, Lord, before Ren o' the Blade has to prove his name once more in the new city of Phlan." Ren opened his mouth, then closed it, waiting to see what would happen.
He couldn't tell if it was his reputation or the bold proclamations of the old trooper or maybe the stomping of his nervous war-horse that elicited the desired effect, but the ten troopers backed up. The tall knight didn't move an inch.
The leader obviously wasn't going to be pushed around, but he wasn't getting any support from his troopers. Turning to the raft, Lord Wainwright saw the ranger's big grin.
"Lord Bartholomew discovered that animals were making New Phlan a diseased place. He has ordered them all penned. Your horse will be well cared for. But if it's a fight you want, you can be well cared for, too."
Ren laughed inwardly at the tall knight's bravado. He was probably a real coward who ran from anything more than a bar brawl. But it wouldn't be very polite to cut a fellow like him in half. New Phlan would likely need every healthy defender it had.