Ophyllia and Gramps ushered Pavek into the Barley Mow for a little private conversation. Too many ears in the tiny village stood waiting to catch a tidbit of gossip. Ophyllia found it strange that ears would stand on their own, but she merely shrugged off the oddity - she'd seen stranger things at the yearly fair. She straightened her bird cage and followed the two men inside.
"Where's Nipper?"
"Oh - Rasor's taken him in like a long lost brother. Nipper seems to approve; maybe it has something to do with the fact that Rasor smells like fried pork chops."
Rasor? Pork Chops? Pavek wasn't sure if the pretty bard was teasing him or being serious. It didn't really matter. His big St. Bernard companion could certainly take care of himself.
Gramps gave Ophyllia a frown and pulled out a chair for himself.
"Now, what's this you've found that has you so worked up?"
Pavek pulled out a piece of parchment and unrolled it across the table.
"See this range of mountains..."
"The Windpipe Mountains."
Gramps stuffed some purple tobacco into a pipe and lit the odd colored weed.
"Hey Miss..." He waved at a young wench. "Bring us three ales."
Babette bounced over to the table, tray in hand.
"No ale, sir. It's been stolen you see and..."
"Oh, yes. Right." He grumbles. "Three meads then."
"Right away sir." She bounced away.
"Right away, sir." Ophyllia squeaked then crossed her eyes and flounced around behind the back of the barmaid.
"Oooohhh - do sit down."
A thick trail of smoke puffed up from Gramps's pipe. He gave Ophyllia a stern do-be-quiet-for-once-in-your-life look.
"Now, what were you saying, Pavek?"
Pavek's finger trailed over the parchment.
"While I was scanning the territory, I came across a rather large number of tracks leading deep into the mountains. "
"How many of them?"
"Enough tracks for an army."
"Yep, that'd be a large number." Gramps eyebrows rose.
"Anyway, the tracks lead to a deep ravine, what was beyond I couldn't find out. However, it has to be something important. The ravine was guarded by several gargoyles. Which makes me believe that the ravine leads to some underground headquarters - maybe even to 'M.' I also found this when I made a low pass over the path that lead to the ravine."
Pavek held out a scrap of purple cloth and a petite lavender shoe.
"Let me see those."
Ophyllia turned the fleecy piece of material over and over in her hand. This somehow seemed very familiar to her, an image floated just out of sight in her mind. Hoping to jar her memory, or barrel it, she gave the shoe the same thorough inspection. It was a dainty slipper, obviously a female's (or possible Teeny's) shoe, with the distinct curved toe that marked many elven footwear. Still, Ophyllia could not get the items to click in her head with the wearer. It was almost as bad as having a song stuck in her head and not being able to remember the words. She shook her head and handed the items back to Pavek.
Gramps sipped thoughtfully at his goblet of mead.
"Maybe this was left behind intentionally?"
He cast a glance at the bard, but she merely shrugged. He continued.
"So. How many gargoyles?"
"I counted a baker's dozen, but there's probably more. Gramps, I think 'M' is a lot more powerful than your people first imagined. I was talking with Torner and I got the impression that he thinks 'M' is just an evil "upstart" human with a ragtag army. And there's another thing..."
"Yes?"
"I didn't tell the priest, what's his name? Danidar? I didn't tell him everything. The dying elf back at the grove mentioned you and your granddaughter. He said something about the ambush group down by the lake was supposed to capture the two of you."
Gramps' eyes suddenly filled with concern. Unconsciously, he fingered a medallion that hung around his neck. Ophyllia caught the movement and pursed her lips.
"Well, you gents seem to have everything figured out. How about a bite to eat?"
When both males refused, Ophyllia casually strode to the bar. When she was sure no one was looking, she quickly cast a minor spell and glanced in Gramps' direction. The medallion glowed a bright blue - and so did several other objects on the old man - and the young one as well. She smiled. The symbol on Gramps' medallion was the same as the one on the ring worn by his granddaughter. Interesting.
"Ophyllia! We don't have time to eat. We need to get back to the lake as quick as possible. Morgan is in trouble."
"Who?" The bard and fighter said in unison.
"My granddaughter."
As the three rose to leave, a tall elven male hustled through the doors. He quickly surveyed the tavern's patrons and settled his gaze on the trio.
"You're the group from Bottomburn? : And friends of Torner, yes?"
The elf made this more of a statement than a question.
"We know of him and his deeds and recently met him on our way to the lake. Why?"
"My name is Elyandon. Torner and I have faced many an orc battle together in the mountains and hills that surround this valley. I fear he may be in trouble."
Ophyllia found the formal speech of the elf, amusing. These people need to get out of the forest more often. Of course, she had heard of the wild parties the elves threw in honor of the Violet One. Maybe she could forgive him his halting common if he invited her deep into the woods to one of their primal flings. She smiled coyly, placed a hand lightly on his arm, and looked into his golden eyes.
"We were just going back to join him and the others. What's going on?"
Elyandon wasn't taken aback by the bard's forward moves, and actually, seemed to encourage her with a knowing smile of his own before continuing.
"We caught a spy amongst the villagers; that's how the enemy has been keeping one step ahead of us. I am leading what's left of our warriors to the lake. Braghin, the leader of the adventuring group, is leading those from Bottomburn to the lake also. If you are going that way you can ride with us and I can explain what has happened along the way."
"I hate riding. Saddles always make my backside ache."
Gramps recoiled as if struck by an unseen blow to the posterior.
"Oh, no, Grandfather. We are not riding horses." Elyamdon winked at Ophyllia.
"When the People gather to go to war - we go in style. Come. I'll show you."
With that, the noble elf glided to the door and ushered out the confused trio. He lead them to the outskirts of the village and over a large hill. There, spread out over a level field, were forty or so very odd looking short wagons. They were wooden, ornately carved, and carried some strange flaps of cloth on each side. Groups of elves scuttled about, attending the wagons and the funny contraptions on the side. But the wagons were not what held the group's attention. Roaming across the field were hundreds of Pegasi.
"Winged chariots!"
Pavek's usually stern face broke into a smile as he gathered in the scene below. As he spoke, several elves unfolded the cloth wings of two of the chariots. All across the field was the same. Wings were being unfolded and locked into place as the Pegasi took to the front of the carts for harnessing.
"Kewl!" Ophyllia laughed delightedly. "Now this is the way to travel. There's definitely a song to be made here."
Elyandon had stepped beyond the group and was giving orders to four elves. Ophyllia let the other two males gawk while she skipped down to have a close-up look at the chariots. Each one was delicately carved with woodland scenes, some were painted, others were stained to bring out the wood's natural beauty. Each cart was different - she could have spent a whole day studying the chariots. This was an artwork of genius.
"My Lady."
Ophyllia turned to see Elyandon smiling over her. She inquired
"Why didn't you use these earlier in your battles?"
"No time - the trolls took us by surprise. And the chariots wouldn't have done us much good in the dense forests. Besides, these are kept by the Pegasi. Only they have the right to say who is allowed to harness them. After the attack, we sent a messenger to their chief asking for assistance. They have been more than happy to help since trolls are their hated enemy."
"They're not the only ones."
While they spoke, large clay pots were loaded onto the carts. Gramps and Pavek joined the two as Elyandon explained that the pots held flammable liquid. The elves in the chariots would douse the trolls with the liquid. Then archers, flying singly on a Pegasus's back, would set fire to them with flaming arrows.
"Let's away."
Elyandon waved to the other elves and the army readied their chariots and single mounts to take to the skies.
"You three will be riding with me."
The elf motioned them to a huge chariot pulled by four Pegasi with garlands of violets woven into their manes.
"We can talk while we ride. We should reach the lake just after dark."
"I would really like to ride with you, and maybe I can get a ride after all this is over, but I feel I must join my companion on the ground."
Pavek eyed the chariot with longing and gave a sigh. When Elyandon looked perplexed, Gramps explained.
"He's talking about Nipper. His dog companion who's back with the others by the lake."
Pavek felt the blood rushing to his face. Most people found his loyalty to his furry friend silly.
"I understand and admire your courage. But, tell me, how will you get there?"
"Watch." Pavek grinned.
* POP *
Within a blink of an eye, the human transformed into a beautiful red- winged kite.
"Ooooh, I'd love to get a handful of those feathers for my hat."
Ophyllia patted her birdcage. Pavek screeched at her. She laughed.
"Just teasing, silly bird."
Two other elves joined Gramps and Ophyllia, each took a position flanking their commander. Elyandon held a golden scepter high over his head and began singing in the elven tongue. Soon other voices joined the song as the chariots took to the sky. The scepter seem to gather and amplify the voices so they could be heard over the rushing wind. As the army flew past the village, Gramps and Ophyllia saw the villagers gathered below, waving to the defenders. Some of the small children (many which were elven) ran beneath the shadows of the chariots, squealing with delight. The elves waved back but did not stop their song.
On their way to the battle, and after the battle song, Elyandon explained what they had discovered. The spy was a human female who called herself Spider. She had never seen 'M' and took her instructions from another un-named human in Bottomburn. Ophyllia noted that the human's description conveniently fit that of Keebler. Elyandon also discovered that there were more than just the trolls converging on the lake. Orcs, gnorcs, brigands, bugbears, and hobgoblins had joined the trolls. This was to be the big gathering and muster before taking the town of Bottomburn by force. Killing the adventuring group had been just a small ploy in the overall picture. The Mod Boyz had been ruled ineffective by 'M' and were to be ousted in favor of a harsher militant rule. The spy had spoken to Elyandon of a secret sect of clerics who would take over the existing temples. She knew nothing about the priests except that the new religion would not tolerate the drunken debauchery of its previous occupants. All liquor or inebriating substances were to be confiscated and made illegal. Gambling, singing, dancing, or partying of any kind was strictly forbidden, and the present 30 day work week was to be doubled. Spider did not know what deity it was that the new priests were to get their powers from - and she did not care so long as she got her money. However, when she started to speak about the gathering of magical items, she suddenly choked on her own spittle and died.
Ophyllia noticed that Gramps touched his medallion again at the mention of magic items but said nothing. She was still trying to remember what it was that was so significant about the torn purple fleece.
Gramps told Elyandon of the message TymeKeeper had intercepted from the demon. The message contained pledges of power from several prominent demons along with a shipment date of some, as yet, unknown goods. Gramps also told Elyandon of Pavek's discovery. The elf nodded thoughtfully and said that he had suspected a hide-a-way somewhere in the mountains but had not had the forces to prove his theory.
"Maybe, if we can defeat the army here at the lake, then a party could be sent into the mountains to find 'M's hidden lair."
"That was my thought. Hmmm, I wonder who we should send?"
Gramps smiled at Ophyllia. Elyandon's attention suddenly was drawn away from the conversation. The others followed his line on sight. Far ahead, and below, was the distinct infra-glow of hundreds of bodies.
"Violet Elf help us in this hour of need."
"Add one of those prayers for me too, lad."
Gramps shook his head at the gathering below. Ophyllia cast an arched eyebrow at the old mage. How could he see them?
Elyandon brought the scepter up again; this time he made no sound, and instead used the baton as a signaling device.
Down below, things were just starting to get interesting for the small group of five.
Torner and Morgan had spread out to discover the enemies exact location and numbers while the other three, TymeKeeper, Danidar, and Rasor built up their defenses. They had managed to find a descent place to make a stand if it came to it - there wasn't much on the lightly forested hills around the lake - but they made the best of what they had. Stacks of rocks stood at TymeKeeper's feet. He wasn't good with a sword, but he could take out someone's eye at 50 paces with his newly made Wrist Rocket. Danidar had laid his priestly components out on a flat rock in front of him so they were easy to grab. Rasor had fixed up a couple of traps that would surely stop any flanking maneuvers from the trolls. Stormwind stood alert at the back of the thicket and Nipper followed Rasor wherever he went. When Torner and Morgan arrived, everything was in place.
"It doesn't look good. There's more than trolls out there."
Torner brushed the hair from his eyes and looked to the young archer.
"I counted two score of trolls, four of gnorcs, one of hobgoblins, and a smattering of other evil races."
"Don't forget the bandits, probably two score of them or more. They seem to just be milling about like they're waiting on something."
"Probably waiting for the group of adventurers."
Danidar casually sat on the ground, his purple staff across his legs.
"How can you be so calm?"
Morgan shifted nervously from foot to foot as if to mark her statement with action.
"I trust in the Violet Elf to see us through this evil that plagues our land. You must have faith."
The elven priest gave the girl an wicked grin.
"Besides, you don't think that I'll just sit back here and watch the fighting, do you?" He patted his staff.
Tyme Keeper strode up to Torner.
"There's no way to sneak past them is there?"
"Too many, they'd be sure to hear us. If we are lucky, they will pass us by."
"No sneakin'. Don't like sneakin'. Chopping little hobgoblinies to bits - I likes that idea."
Rasor lovingly ran a finger over Grizelda, his battleaxe.
Just as the group settled into a "wait and watch" routine, Nipper leapt to his feet and stared intently at the sky. Suddenly, a huge red-winged kite flew into the camp.
* POP *
Pavek stood before them. Nipper nudged his companion's leg and wagged his tail.
"Boy, are my arms tired."
Everyone gathered around quietly (even Rasor) to hear Pavek's story. No sooner had he spoken the last word, than a whooshing sound filled the hills. Shrieks and mindless bellows of pain quickly followed.
"It's working! Yes!"
Pavek smiled gleefully at the thought of the elves' winged chariots swooping over the army.
"Torch 'em!"
"Let's go where we can see."
The group edged to the front where the traps were set and gazed down the small hill. Dozens of figures burned in the moonlight while others rushed to distance themselves from the burning mass. The sounds of arrows swizzling through the air gave Morgan goosebumps. Other humanoids, hearing the noise, joined in the general mayhem.
"Look!" Tyme Keeper pointed towards the direction of the road.
Torches and lanterns could be seen advancing on the lake.
"Must be the adventuring group from Bottomburn, I thought they were a smaller group than that."
Torner scratched his head.
"They've joined with a group out of the village - and a few elves from the forest who couldn't catch their flight."
Pavek pulled his sword from its scabbard.
"Time to join our friends I think."
"Wait, wait, my boy." Torner patted Pavek's and Rasor's ready hands.
"Wait till the enemy is engaged with the adventurers. Then we'll hit them from behind with a punch that'll take the wind right out of 'em."
They didn't have to wait long before the enemy had brought it's full force on the group from Bottomburn. The elves still rained arrows and fire from above and scattered as many evil goblinkin from terror as from killing. Several bolts of lightning shot into the army from one of the larger chariots. TymeKeeper had no doubt that Gramps and Ophyllia were adding their firepower to the already powerful group.
Suddenly, from behind, a low chant issued forth. The little group spun around to see Danidar holding his staff high overhead.
"By the wisdom of Violet Elf, grant me the power to destroy our enemies."
Danidar's face twisted in concentration. Flickering flames of purple sprouted along the elven priest's body and engulfed the staff. When he lowered his face and opened his eyes, the other five unconsciously moved back a step. Danidar's eyes glowed with an unnatural power. The priest paid them no mind and stepped between them, staff in hand, and sung in a strong baritone voice,
"So, it's time to take some action boys, it's time---to---follow---me. Through the mists, through the woods, through the shadows and the darkness. It's a nightmare but it's one exciting ride. Say a prayer, then we're there..."
With a whoop of glee, the warriors leapt forward into the fray.
"Uh, guys - don't mind me if I stay back here with the horse."
TymeKeeper loaded his Wrist Rocket and nodded to the stallion.
"Anybody comes our way - bite him."
Stormwind snorted his agreement.