horses, the dwarf seemed fond of his pony, Yaffa. An “old
girl,” according to the dwarf, she seemed to doze most of the time if their
mounts loped along. Delilah didn’t think that was actually possible, but she
would be the first to admit she knew nothing about horses.
“The last time I was there, there
were no public gambling houses.” Pancras shrugged. “Maybe times have changed.
Let’s all try to stay out of trouble this time, eh?” He spurred his horse and
trotted away from the group.
Delilah cast a glance over to her
brother. “I think he was talking about you.”
“Me?” Kale stuck his tongue out
at his sister. “Tell that to any minotaurs who try to kill me.”
“No one better try to kill us in
Muncifer. It’d be nice for a change.”
* * *
The farther they traveled, the
more dread nagged and gnawed at Pancras’s stomach. Their long days traveling
gave him plenty of time to think about life, death, and not being dead. His
memories of the event were still fuzzy, but he was grateful dark dreams did not
disrupt his sleep. For that matter, he didn’t recall any dreams, however
fleeting, since waking up on that slab, and it disturbed him on a different
level. It felt unnatural to not dream.
The new archmage in Muncifer was
a stranger to Pancras, and he considered the possibility the man might be
cleaning house, a regular occurrence after a change in power. Pancras hoped by
hiding away in a place like Drak-Anor, he might go unnoticed. As it seemed to
have been a successful strategy for nearly a quarter century, he speculated
there was more to this summons than simply paying his delinquent dues.
Greyhawk Point appeared on the
horizon and became the dominant feature of the landscape as they traveled
south. Pancras adjusted their course to avoid traveling too far into the
foothills where they would be more and more likely to encounter giants who made
the mountains their homes. In times of harsh weather and scarce hunting, they
were known to leave their mountain dwellings to forage and hunt in the
foothills. Sometimes, the various tribes of giants were peaceful, if
suspicious. Sometimes, they were not.
The afternoon they passed
Greyhawk Point, Pancras spotted a band of travelers in the distance. Haze
obscured details of what appeared to be a caravan, though he distinguished
wafts of smoke drifting into the sky from the center of its formation. Cautious
curiosity got the better of him, and he maneuvered the group to intercept them.
As they approached, he noticed a variety of wagons covered in bright colored
cloth.
“A tinker caravan!” Pancras
motioned for everyone to slow down and stop with him. “What are they doing way
out here?”
“Are there roads?” Kali stood in
her saddle and scanned the horizon. “They’re not taking those wagons overland,
are they? I don’t see any roads.”
“There weren’t any the last time
I came this way, but that was a long time ago. Maybe there’s a trail.”
Delilah stood up in her saddle
for a better view “We should go around, don’t you think?”
“When I was a lad, the tinker
caravans had a reputation for being open-minded and welcoming of fellow
travelers. They’d gladly share their food and fires in exchange for a tale or
two. Besides, they might know a little more about the current state of our
destination.”
Pancras held up his hand to
indicate his friends should hold their position before spurring his horse into
a trot and closing the distance. He slowed his pace again as he drew closer,
hoping to catch a glimpse of the travelers. The cavalcade was stopped, the
wagons set up like makeshift buildings or a mobile village.
One of the caravaners waved to
him as he approached. Pancras returned the wave and dropped his hand to the rod
kept in a loop on his belt, his arcane focus. The human continued to wave as he
approached and was soon joined by several others, but they scattered when
Pancras drew close enough to see their faces,
girl,” according to the dwarf, she seemed to doze most of the time if their
mounts loped along. Delilah didn’t think that was actually possible, but she
would be the first to admit she knew nothing about horses.
“The last time I was there, there
were no public gambling houses.” Pancras shrugged. “Maybe times have changed.
Let’s all try to stay out of trouble this time, eh?” He spurred his horse and
trotted away from the group.
Delilah cast a glance over to her
brother. “I think he was talking about you.”
“Me?” Kale stuck his tongue out
at his sister. “Tell that to any minotaurs who try to kill me.”
“No one better try to kill us in
Muncifer. It’d be nice for a change.”
* * *
The farther they traveled, the
more dread nagged and gnawed at Pancras’s stomach. Their long days traveling
gave him plenty of time to think about life, death, and not being dead. His
memories of the event were still fuzzy, but he was grateful dark dreams did not
disrupt his sleep. For that matter, he didn’t recall any dreams, however
fleeting, since waking up on that slab, and it disturbed him on a different
level. It felt unnatural to not dream.
The new archmage in Muncifer was
a stranger to Pancras, and he considered the possibility the man might be
cleaning house, a regular occurrence after a change in power. Pancras hoped by
hiding away in a place like Drak-Anor, he might go unnoticed. As it seemed to
have been a successful strategy for nearly a quarter century, he speculated
there was more to this summons than simply paying his delinquent dues.
Greyhawk Point appeared on the
horizon and became the dominant feature of the landscape as they traveled
south. Pancras adjusted their course to avoid traveling too far into the
foothills where they would be more and more likely to encounter giants who made
the mountains their homes. In times of harsh weather and scarce hunting, they
were known to leave their mountain dwellings to forage and hunt in the
foothills. Sometimes, the various tribes of giants were peaceful, if
suspicious. Sometimes, they were not.
The afternoon they passed
Greyhawk Point, Pancras spotted a band of travelers in the distance. Haze
obscured details of what appeared to be a caravan, though he distinguished
wafts of smoke drifting into the sky from the center of its formation. Cautious
curiosity got the better of him, and he maneuvered the group to intercept them.
As they approached, he noticed a variety of wagons covered in bright colored
cloth.
“A tinker caravan!” Pancras
motioned for everyone to slow down and stop with him. “What are they doing way
out here?”
“Are there roads?” Kali stood in
her saddle and scanned the horizon. “They’re not taking those wagons overland,
are they? I don’t see any roads.”
“There weren’t any the last time
I came this way, but that was a long time ago. Maybe there’s a trail.”
Delilah stood up in her saddle
for a better view “We should go around, don’t you think?”
“When I was a lad, the tinker
caravans had a reputation for being open-minded and welcoming of fellow
travelers. They’d gladly share their food and fires in exchange for a tale or
two. Besides, they might know a little more about the current state of our
destination.”
Pancras held up his hand to
indicate his friends should hold their position before spurring his horse into
a trot and closing the distance. He slowed his pace again as he drew closer,
hoping to catch a glimpse of the travelers. The cavalcade was stopped, the
wagons set up like makeshift buildings or a mobile village.
One of the caravaners waved to
him as he approached. Pancras returned the wave and dropped his hand to the rod
kept in a loop on his belt, his arcane focus. The human continued to wave as he
approached and was soon joined by several others, but they scattered when
Pancras drew close enough to see their faces,
Similar Books
