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“I suppose we’ve been lucky up to this point, sir. And we should arrive before nightfall anyway to make camp.” Gedik and Volkan stopped for a moment to discuss the schedule as the storm clouds rapidly engulfed the sky. They examined a section of the map indicating the next stop.
“We’ve been pushing the oxen pretty hard to stay ahead of schedule,” said Volkan. “Still though, I’d hate to slow down at this point. And yes, lucky…”
Gedik’s keen eyes were scanning all around him. He was feeling rather uneasy. “I just don’t get it. Why would they hire so much protection for these caravans if they don’t expect it to be attacked. An equal number of average mercenaries would be one thing, but they were so insistent on bringing in all this expertise.”
“There is no telling what we may encounter in these mountains, son. It is our lack of information that has them all so worried. They don’t enough know much about these colonists eithers,” said Volkan.
“But that’s just my other problem,” explained Gedik. “The colonists! Who are these people? What is so urgent about their needs that an entirely new route be created. Who is paying for all of this? I can only imagine the overhead costs for this entire…”
Volkan suddenly laughed aloud, “My dear captain! For a peerless warrior you still think much like your typical Caldeum.”
Folding up the map again, Gedik laughed with his father and said, “Well sir, I can’t be doing this mercenary thing my whole life like you. I’m not nearly as lucky.”
“Indeed, Gedik. Get out of this trade while you can. Hazard pays are nothing compared to you’ll be making one day with those brains of yours.” Gedik saluted and ran toward the head of the caravan to speak with the caravan master. Volkan, despite appearing in good spirits in front of him, was quite distressed. It was his last conversation with Sir Aras. The merchant was especially irritable about the schedule. It was not Volkan’s responsibility to see to the preparation of the caravan, but Aras was insisted anyway on taking his frustration out on the commander. Volkan’s measured calm and Aras’ status among the Consortium prevented a physical confrontation.
Coming down the trail was Saadet. Volkan studied her as she made no hurried attempt to report to him. Just the usual expressionless face and casual stride. I hope this lack of urgency isn’t common among all her kind.
“You asked to see me, sir.”
“Yes, thank you for assisting with the repairs so far on this journey. It would appear maybe the Consortium overcompensated on muscle and left us short handed on skilled labor, eh?” said Volkan.
Saadet only nodded, but Volkan was not satisfied. Appearing to finally understand this, she finally said, “It is my…pleasure, sir. How may I assist you now?”
“Hmm,” Volkan stroked his beard a moment as he became somewhat distracted by the storm clouds overhead. Saadet stood patiently.”
“It has occurred to me recently, lieutenant, that we could be expecting too much trouble in front of us.”
“To me as well, sir. Someone could have followed us into the Pass.”
Volkan raised an eyebrow at this. He was pleased and surprised that Saadet was thinking along the same lines.
“I’m glad we agree then, lieutenant. I understand some of your equipment can alert you to unnatural movements and signs of life.” Volkan was looking at her bag wrapped around her shoulder, wondering what kinds of devices she carried with her and how they all worked.
“Not to mention certain magical energies, sir. If something is following us up the Pass, the traps are sensitive enough to detect it and can even disable it if necessary.” Saadet’s commander was at least aware that her devices were part engineering, and part magical in nature. Enchantments were a more accurate way to describe the magical nature of her equipment, however. What she built with her own hands was a product of her intense mental training. The ability to build many of these devices with her eyes closed was a standard skill among her kind. Though there are so few of us left it seems.
Saadet was unsure of the status of her order. She had been operating solely for an extended period of time. Her last seal of official orders was a few years ago. The coded message simply read, “Infiltrate Caldeum ranks”. Funding was provided to her for a short time through a number of channels. After that she was mostly on her own. Few assassins had the level of autonomy she possessed. She had found her way with the Consortium mercenaries and became a respected, albeit enigmatic member of their company. The mages did not trust her. While some begrudgingly admitted to themselves it was because they did not understand her craft, Levent knew there was something else entirely about her. Something false and deadly.
“We will keep ongoing patrols tonight at the camp sight, but I want you to go beyond the patrol range east of us and set your traps,” said Volkan.
“Right away, commander,” nodded Saadet and went out of sight.
The rain began to fall. Volkan put on his hood and sighed. He looked around at the walls of rock all around him. Grays and browns, very little growth anywhere. It felt like death all around him. The most silent and still death. If not for the rain, he’d possess no sense of normality in the current situation. As much as he dreaded getting to the camp sight under such conditions, the rain managed to breath just a bit of life into this place. And at least he was out of the desert heat. I only hope I’m not exchanging one kind of extreme weather for another. May this rain not last.
Saadet was approaching the coordinates on her map where she had planned to lay her traps. The rain began to pour as she steadily made her way down the path. The inside of her boots were managing to stay dry while she walked on the road, but the gray robe around her body was now soaking wet. It might have clung to her slender body if not for the robe’s thick wool. It was intentional that her clothing reveal as little about her as possible while also working to conceal her weapons. Underneath it all was a tight fitting black garment. Only a few corrupt mages had seen a flash of it before falling to their prompt deaths.
She threw down several enchanted rods. As quickly as they settled on the ground, an electrical charge passed through them and they all moved in an upright position forming a small pyramid shape. Held in place by their own power, they hummed with electricity and her first sentry was in place. Just a ways down she repeated the process, only this time the rods formed a spout like structure that rotated in full circles. Both sentries began to fade out of sight yet continued to fully function. Saadet’s mind focused on her surroundings as she tried listening beyond the rain, but the thunderclaps were too loud and frequent. If something was moving around out there, it could be out of attack range for the traps, but they’d at least be able to detect it.
Saadet crossed to the other side and proceed down a ways more to lay the last one. As soon as it came to power it fired an electrical bolt at the cliff wall into a pile of rubble. With her quick reflexes, she extended the katar on her right hand and pointed the blade in the direction of the rubble blast. The trap was poised for another discharge but was stuck trying to acquire its target. All was silent again except for the rain. Saadet slowly moved toward the cliff wall where the pile of rocks lay She tightly gripped the handle of her weapon.
A streak of lighting suddenly pierced the sky and was followed by a loud thunder. Simultaneously the trap fired several more discharged toward the cliff wall. A cloud of dust emanated from the blast as a mound of mud and rocks began to rise from the debris. Saadet watched in awe as the mound grew almost twice her height and morphed into a humanoid shape. Just as it finished forming legs and arms the lightning sentry fired a final charge before exhausting its power and self-destructing. The muddy creature was thrown back by the impact and was thrown against the cliff wall.
The assassin continued moving forward. With a flick of her left wrist, she summoned her other claw and readied herself to attack. Writhing on the ground, the creature formed what appeared as a human head with a contorted face. She saw it as a tortured and ugly thing. It pushed itself back up with its arms and its mouth gaped open at her. A deep rumbling noise came from its maw while mud poured forth onto the ground.
Zeren’s golem had watched all the wagons, laborers and warriors pass by hours ago. It was merely waiting for further orders when Saadet came down the road laying her traps. It would have lied still if not for perceiving a threat from the assassin’s magic. At the moment, all Zeren could sense was that it was in pain and instinctively trying to defend itself. The damage done by the sentry was disrupting his telepathic link to it.
Saadet rushed forward and slashed at the creature’s head. The golem swiftly ducked and rolled to the side. She leaned in toward it to stab with her claw but the golem reached out and absorbed the impact into its hand. With the three smaller blades of the claw stuck in its hand, she swung her katar directly into its arm and severed it. The golem stood quickly and flung its other arm straight at her. A large mass of mud and rocks knocked her off balance long enough for it to stand up again and face her.
She quickly reassessed her opponent. It was much more agile and clever than she thought it would be. Clearly the poison of her claws was having no effect either. Her best guess identified the creature as a golem. She sensed no demonic magic about it. Nor was it a creature of the undead. But few schools of magic were capable of creating such a thing. Whoever was controlling it was likely nearby. She’d hunt this person down as soon as she dispatched of their pet.
The golem’s arms and hands grew back while the rest of its body reduced in size. More mud poured from its mouth as it readied itself to go on the offensive. It leapt at Saadet but just barely missed. She went for another blow to the head, but the golem yet again managed to absorb the blow. This time its mud was thicker and her blade was stuck even further in. Before she could attack with her other hand, the golem struck her hard in the chest and sent her flailing backwards. She coughed up blood and struggled to stand back up. Maybe I can bleed, but this thing cannot…
With her enchanted items depleted, she resumed sparring with the monster while gradually working her way back up the path. Her robe completely covered in mud, she undid the clasp around her neck and it fall to the ground. The golem picked up a nearby boulder and hurled it at her. It appeared that it too was weakening. That’s right, you’re angry, aren’t you? Come finish me off…She then shouted, “Tell your master I’m coming for him next!” Strangely, the golem seemed to take offense at this and began running toward her with all the speed it could muster. Its muddy legs were falling apart underneath it. It stopped long enough for nearby rocks to stick themselves to its legs. "Come on!" she yelled. It ran even even faster as she turned around and let it give chase.
Just further up the path the fire sentry pointed its spout in the direction of the oncoming figures. Mere steps away from the trap, Saadet lept over it and the device suddenly spewed forth a gust of flame at the golem. The fire was so thick and hot, the creature managed to catch fire. The assassin looked up from the ground as and watched the furious blaze in front of her. Increasingly immobile the golem trudged slowly toward her and reach out with its arm. Its magical energies rapidly diminishing, it attempted to cry out to its master for help. Upon its next step the first sentry was activated and a heavy arc of lighting pierced the walking flame. The golem fell back and shattered on impact like a clay pot. The last pieces of it burning out, and the rain washing it away.
With a sigh of relief, Saadet picked herself back up and stood over her beaten opponent. As everything washed away, just a few stones in the middle remained. She kicked them onto the side of the path and went back down to fetch her robe. “Now I have to set these all over again.” Happy enough that no one from the caravan witnessed her using her claws, she tended to her wounds and picked up several metal rods from her bag to enchant. “Ah well, such is the work of the machinist. Only now I’ve got a puppet master to contend with as well.”
The three stones on the side of the path huddled together and burrowed themselves in the mud and rain. After a rest, they would gather some more mud and rocks.

An assassin! Zeren sat in disbelief. But what he could not believe was that he failed to anticipate her. I suppose it makes sense. I cannot be the only one who knows of the artifact. But why would she want…No! Zeren realized it was not the artifact she was probably interested in, but its recipient. The Viz’Jaqtaar had no interest in demonic magics-only those who would employ them. Granted, Zeren did want the artifact for himself, but it was to be an object of study, not active use.
The necromancer had wondered at times who was paying such a grand sum for the package. But the Balance had been so in favor of the Light recently that his people saw no urgent need to investigate the happenings near the Dreadlands. Knowledge of the growing colonies was widespread. They were seemingly just a lot unhappy people trying to shake the yoke of the western kingdoms. Zeren had also heard rumors about the cultists, but nothing they were engaging in seemed to be effecting the Balance as far as the Priests could sense.
At any rate, here was this assassin, likely on a mission to identify and slay whomever wanted the artifact. Zeren looked down at his feet, “And here I stand, now with the prospect of her slaying me too.” After brooding awhile over his lost golem and wondering how his mission parameters had changed, it suddenly occurred to Zeren that perhaps both he and that deadly women out there could have the same thing. She could have her dead recipient and he would be allowed to take the artifact back with him. No Rathman Priest had ever fallen to the demonic magics. Their acceptance of death as an inevitability raised them above such temptations of power. It made perfect sense to Zeren, but would the assassin understand his reasoning as well? The fact that she had just engaged in combat with his golem did not help his chances.
Whether for his own research or not, what happened with the artifact mattered. At painstaking effort and risk was it smuggled out of Kurast. A fully intact undead stygian doll would provide a tremendous insight into how demons reanimate their dead. And with such knowledge, an entirely new method of defense against demonic forces could be developed. So long as the doll remains dormant and I get my hands on it. Zeren was unsure how to proceed next. All he knew for certain was that his mission just got a lot more complicated.

The lifeless creature stood motionless behind him. An amalgamation of dirt, rocks, and clay, the golem only resembled the human form. To many on the outside of his order, it was considered a mockery of mortal beings. It was waiting for Zeren’s orders. The lanky, pale priest crouched over the cliff top. His long graying hair swayed in the wind as did his black cloak. He was studying the road way at the bottom of the canyon. It almost blended in with everything around it as there was little life or growth in the mountains. Just walls of rock, seemingly endless. All he had seen for the past several days of his journey was mountains and sky. The line between the two made the impression of jagged teeth. Now he sat atop those teeth. He knew he would eventually have to make his way down in order to follow the caravan more closely. And without a close proximity to the wagons themselves, he would not be able to detect the hidden artifact. But I can feel it headed this way at least…
Zeren had been feeling many things nearby lately. Beyond the usual background noise of the living and the dead, something was hiding. Or like a field of black and white, a red orb would dance around just outside his vision. He would try quickly to gaze directly at it, only for it to keep moving on the outside. But in his peripheral vision it held still. That was vexing to him. Do you know I am searching for you? Or does someone else hide you?
“Well, I think it is time anyway. Best we find a good spot to wait for them, don’t you think?” Zeren turned around and smiled at his golem. It opened its mouth and exhaled a plume of dust and dirt. “You guessed correctly, my friend. I’ll be sending you down first while I wait up ahead.” The golem emulated a sigh and looked down over the edge down the slope. Though Zeren’s telepathic link allowed him to communicate with his creation, he preferred to communicate vocally to it as well. This was much to the dismay of his fellow priests. To personify such a thing that merely was a tool for the Priests of Rathma, it implied that Zeren believed it to be the same golem he had summoned over and over again and that it wasn’t merely an extension of his own magic. Zeren’s secret, however, was that it was indeed the same golem every time, bound to the magical energies of three polished stones he had enchanted. From those stones the golem could reincarnate itself, even change size from a towering monstrosity to a tiny dirt clump the size of his fist.
This kind of innovation might impress his colleagues, but it was an even greater secret that the creature had a rudimentary consciousness and personality. In essence, it was not really a true golem. Zeren’s genius was aimed at merely creating a trusted companion for his travels. But to create something that mimicked life not just in movement, but in thought and feeling, the Priests would consider this a dangerous precedent to creating life. Ostensibly, it would even defy the pragmatic edict of their order. Maintaining the Balance on Sanctuary was an ambiguous task at times, but there were specific things the Priests of Rathma were bound never to do. Zeren acknowledged this to himself at times but for now was able to concede to himself that he was merely a rogue.
“The caravan should appear around that last bend sometime tonight. I expect them to make camp in the recess just beyond it. Stay close to them there and await further instructions.” The golem nodded slowly to Zeren. “I’ll not be too far ahead. May Trag’Oul guide you.” With these words the golem began disintegrating. Its arms fell to the ground and its legs buckled beneath it. The human visage on its head crumpled away and what was left was a small mound of earth. It balanced on the edge of the cliff for but a moment and then rolled straight down the steep canyon wall. Zeren watched a moment until the earthy sphere was out of his sight, though even at great distances could he maintain his link to the creature.
He tightened his cloak. Underneath it he could feel the ivory dagger on his belt. Like all those merchants obsessed with keeping time, he was obsessed with knowing his weapon was at his side. Yet another tool of the Priest. I suppose they would frown upon me giving it a name. With a strengthened resolve, he quickly made his trek further up the Khanduras where he would scale down the mountain and wait for the caravan. As he quickly made his way west, he tried ignoring the red orb just outside his vision. There is still some time. Perhaps I can make it come to me first.
The canyon winds were getting stronger as the sun began to set. The temperature dropped even faster while clouds began gathering in the sky. A storm was coming. It was day two of the caravan’s departure from Bardak Su. High into the mountains the weather had been moderate, but now he worried if it might slow them down. He labored even harder to get to the bottom of the canyon. A muffled thunder echoed throughout the mountains. Rain began to fall. In his tracks, Zeren’s attention was suddenly captured by the vista before him. Tightening his grip against the wet surfaces, he afforded himself a moment to admire the awesome beauty of this place. Even the foulest of evils could not spoil such a moment. And it was but a moment as the last flare of sunlight was drowned out by the clouds before it could fully set. Close to the bottom now, Zeren crouched underneath an outcropping of rock and attempted to keep dry while his friend, disguised as a clump of dirt, waited for him further down the path.

The Khanduras Range spread across the west horizon. If not for the steep climb in elevation beyond the port city, the mirages of desert heat would have obscured the long line of mountains easily. Visible or not, the mountains weighed heavily on the mind of veteran merchant Aras. There was no telling how viable this new pass through the northwest half of the Range could be. It was a huge investment on behalf of the Caldeum Consortium as well as the bustling colonies, creating the paths that would accommodate the wagons and protecting those paths from the elements. This could be a disaster. He tried focusing instead on the ship’s manifest as the cargo was being transferred to the wagons. But this new posting of his kept forcing him to mentally retrace his steps and ascertain how he ended up here. I must’ve done something to displease them…
Over the past few years he had grown accustomed to the new business partnership between Caldeum and the recovering western kingdoms. The roads from the port of Kingsport into Duncraig, Westmarch and even Tristram were well maintained for caravans, and with the added support of the powerful mercantile guilds, banditry was at an all time low. He lived in relative comfort and had a good relationship with the locals. It had been an exceptionally profitable assignment for Aras and his guild masters seemed pleased with his administration. Perhaps he had done too well in Kingsport? He was hardly naïve to the politicking and cutthroat dealings of his precious guild, but he also worked so delicately to maintain critical relationships while keeping his enemies to a minimum. To the initiate of Caldeum politics, he’d merely seem a standard bureaucrat due for his promotion.
Yet here he was in the precarious town of Bardak Su. A typically humid and hot coastal establishment on the west side of the Kehjistan Sea. Far north of Lut Gholein, but just south of the east bending quarter of the Khanduras mountains, it possessed a rather profitable fishing industry sustainable enough to build an infrastructure around it.
With no other developed areas in the region, Barduk Su was the last checkpoint of civilization before venturing into the experimental pass. Caldeum would control that checkpoint, and Aras would be the checkpoint’s administrator. The decision was made quickly by Caldeum standards, but the expediting argument was it would be too costly if the town were to fall completely to criminal elements who would wish seize the fishing industry. The trading guild asserted itself and imposed a level of stability and order.
Officially, its presence would be to expand the industry and develop the town, an edict previously unheard of before Kurast’s infiltration of Caldeum society. Promoting trade was one thing, but the details of the agreement had a strangely altruistic touch about them. Unofficially, however, the guild was there for a series of test runs through the new Khanduras pass to ascertain its profitability. With the recent wave of immigration stopping just short of the Dreadlands, Caldeum wanted its niche in what could be the lucrative market of supplying new colonies. But Aras was hardly convinced. The new pass ran at the bottom of some of the steepest slopes of the mountain. Scouts were reporting frequent landslides and sharp turns in the canyons. Advanced erosion was causing the ground in some areas to be unstable. The surrounding areas weren’t even mapped in detail yet, and most worrisome to Aras, there were rumors of a dark cult rapidly emerging in the colonies.
Cults existed all over Sanctuary, Aras knew that. But the latest scout reports from the other side of the pass were revealing some disturbing accounts about this one in particular. Human sacrifices, demonic magics…nothing concrete, however. The information came mostly from interviews conducted with the colonists. One had even claimed to witness the undead walking among the living in a particular encampment. Unacceptable! We need more time to prepare…Aras’ frustration was suddenly made worse when a docking crane suddenly lost control of a heavy barrel being unloaded from the ship. Several dock workers jumped out of the way as the barrel came crashing down on the pier, breaking on impact and spilling all its contents.
“You people are killing me!” shouted Aras. “Yusuf!”
Aras’ labor clerk, a younger and much thinner man, went sprinting toward Aras from the opposite side of the ship. He was sweating profusely and had a look of dread on his face. “Sir!”
“Whoever is on that crane, get him off that detail immediately!”
“One of the villagers, I believe, sir.” Aras watched Yusuf impatiently as the clerk ran his finger down the list of assignments for the day’s shipment. “I think he was meant to be on last night’s rotation, the shift manager may have failed to…”
“High Heavens, man! I told you I needed your most qualified dock workers on this shipment for a special detail and you failed miserably.”
“Yes, sir.” Yusuf rolled up his lists of paper and looked onward at the mess all over the dock. “I’ll see if we can’t repair the crane before…”
“We’re all overworked here, Mr. Yusuf, to get this caravan loaded and into the pass. The next time you need a break from your duties come to me about it next time and we’ll keep all our precious cargo intact. Understood?
With some trepidation, the labor clerk explained, “Sir Aras, it’s been difficult to keep a steady stream of qualified dock workers in each shift. The villagers have been filling in the gaps, but it’s likely the original crew who actually built the crane cut corners in its construction. There have been several complaints from other works about its functionality.”
Yusuf was right. The whole operation was riddled with shortcuts, people trying to expedite the tests in the interest of securing its hold on this potential region. The ships and docks were understaffed and what little labor they had to spare was only suited for the most menial of tasks. They had no specialization out here. None anyway except for the mercenary force sent to protect the caravans. They were different. Aras had seen plenty of hired muscle in the past to be able to distinguish paid thugs from truly professional mercenaries. Aras‘ superiors also assured him he could count on an elite group of fighters and mages to keep the caravans safe on their maiden voyage through the pass. He subsequently wondered though why so much security was even necessary. An attack inside the pass would unlikely be a massive one. This next convoy was to be the biggest, however, compared to the most preliminary test runs. Also, he had to have some faith in the Consortium after all these years. If only that faith extended far enough to calm the rest of his fears about this campaign.
“We could have done this all manually anyway,” sighed Aras. “The Consortium is always finding ways to modernize operations, but this was not the time to test their latest technologies. The good news is we can now tell them the crane’s been an utter hindrance to dock operations.”
Aras and Yusuf began discussing the new plan for unloading the massive trade ship in its tiny fishing port as dock workers continued gathering around the broken barrel. Both men noticed the crowd and Aras shouted at them to get back to work. As the workers reluctantly withdrew to their duties, Aras ordered Yusuf to coordinate the new labor pool and then proceeded toward the contents of the spilled cargo. What he saw in the debris was a pile of what looked like sand, but it was unlike the brown sands of the western deserts, or the shimmering white sands found only in the Dry Steppes, but a dark and light gray amalgamation of….ash? Was it ash? He knelt down and scooped a hefty sample into his palm. The sun burned brightly above him as he watched it sift through his fingers. It felt heavier than sand, but less coarse. He began rummaging further through the pile as he idly mused over what this was and what the colonists possibly needed it for.
Suddenly he felt a hard edge of something in the pile. He reached in with his other hand as he began clearing the ash-like material away. With enough of a grip underneath, he lifted and held the object before him. It was leather bound, about arm’s length and head’s width. At first it was very heavy. Then as he turned it around, it became much lighter, only for the weight to return again at its upright position. Intricate stitching lined every corner and much of it was coated in a hard resin. Indented on the back of the leather case was a vertical line of runes unknown to him.
Intriguing. Could this have been the high priority package I was briefed about? It was a last minute meeting six days ago with the departing envoy from Caldeum, informing Aras of some extremely important cargo arriving on the final ship here. The outside would be unmarked. Aras found this to be amusing later considering most of the cargo unloaded so far was not labeled anyway, another precedent rarely found in the Consortium. Whatever was in this peculiar case, someone would be expecting it. He wondered if this was something unique, or if several more like this had been brought along with the ship. With most of the cargo still unloaded and the caravan due to leave the next morning, Aras decided the best thing to do was to get it out of Bardak Su as soon as possible. If its contents were magical in nature he had no desire to learn more about it. But if the reports are accurate, what if this has anything to do with those cultists…
Sir Aras ordered a nearby dock worker to retrieve an empty barrel from the warehouse and fill it with sand. He would seal the case within the barrel and sand and get it loaded onto one of the wagons. A separate dock worker cleaned up the broken barrel and swept away the strange substance. Aras looked over the trade ship one last time and turned back toward his office overlooking the pier. It cannot just be the test run that’s so important. Someone in the colonies has paid a lot of money to expedite this shipment. Possibly even more for their package alone. Yet they can also wait for it to be delivered with the rest of these supplies? As Yusuf played overseer for the rest of the day, the Caldeum merchant went back to his quarters and continued brooding over his latest assignment.

The next afternoon proved relatively calm for Aras. He had woken up early to a breakfast of tea and bread while double checking all his paperwork. The last minute preparations were underway for the caravan’s exit. Approximately 70 wagons were ready to depart. These did not include even the staff wagons that would supply the crew with all the food and camping gear necessary for the long trip through the mountains. Best estimates put the trip around six days and five nights, depending on optimal weather and road conditions. Quite frankly to Aras, it even depended on the caravan not falling under attack since not much was known about the area on the other side of the pass.
Early exploration surveys discovered lots of fertile soil and fresh water sources. But for western civilization, even if one kingdom was not bogged down in a territorial war with another, the proximity to the Dreadlands was still way too close for comfort. Few explorers ever returned from that horrible blight of land. A few port cities existed on its coasts, but only the truly damned lived there, and even they never dared to venture deep into the Dreadlands. The colonists had a few natural defenses with the water on one side of them and the mountains on the other, but straight to the north, this large piece of unexplored continent existed. It could only be a cold and dead place. There were even rumors regarding the remnants of Baal’s army, how they had fled into the heart of the Dreadlands after their defeat nearly twenty years ago. Rumors. Enough rumors. With a heavy sigh, Aras looked out his office window as the sun was rising again and with it the heat.
While most of the townsfolk were preparing their fishing boats or assisting with the caravan, a group of warriors were gathered around a table at the local tavern, part of the fighting force sent by the Consortium to protect the caravan. At the head of the group sat a battle worn old man, his face obscured mostly by his gray beard, yet his girth quite obvious under his leather and steel armor. He was affable as any commander can be but was informal only with his top lieutenants who now sat at the table with him. While the majority of Caldeum’s fighting forces were privatized, they still functioned like a rank and file army for the most part.
The old man knocked back his ale in one shot and heartily slammed the stein on the table and leaned forward. “It’s our total lack of mobility that concerns me, Gedik. As far as cover is concerned, if you’re really so afraid of being shot at from above, you can hide under the wagons!” Some responded with laughter, others with pensive looks. A woman among them kept her eyes focused on her drink, watching the bubbles rise to the top. Throughout the exchange she stayed mostly silent.
Gedik said, “Seriously though, Volkan. It’s not like I’m expecting a huge ambush. Stray to the left or right of the road and you smack straight into a wall of rock anyway. But there are also some open areas.”
“Aye, the maps and topography charts they keep showing us….I’m looking forward to seeing the inside of this vicious mountain. It’s a wonder how they widened any sort of road at all at the bottom of it.” Volkan stroked his beard as he seemingly stared off into nothing.
“No real wonder,” exclaimed another one of Volkan’s men. “It’s pure magic!”
And another, “But what sort of magic could have helped carve a path through that mountain?” The sentiment was being murmured across the room.
“Only the purest of elemental magics,” stated Levent, the group’s most advanced Sorcerer. He was idly levitating the liquid from his cup into a sphere across the room.
“Put that ball of liquid in this cup here if you’re so intent on wasting it, Sir Levent,” said Volkan as he became easily distracted by Levent’s sorcery. With a flick of Levent’s wrist, the amber colored orb quickly flew back to the table and splashed into the commander’s cup spilling all over his sleeve and causing him to flinch. “Bah!”
Levent continued, “We all know the Consortium has plenty of its own mages at its disposal. Not just for hire either. Any true Elemental Advocate would gladly volunteer for such an undertaking. To work with so much sheer solid rock-to move it, or destroy it, or even to melt it, it is a true test of mettle for this kind of Sorcerer.” The men and women at the table went into a trance over Levent’s words, imagining what it must be like to possess such power. They imagined what it would look like to play with rock and stone and metal as if it were malleable as a pile of baker’s dough.
In truth, the basic path through the Pass was always there, but only wide enough for individuals to traverse it. Many figured, however, that it was widened through a combination of engineering and manual labor of both the Caldeum Consortium and the colonists. While many assumed Caldeum provided most of the skill, lots of specialized individuals were among the colonists and they had resources of their own, suggesting perhaps the backing of another unknown group in the colonies. What leadership or resources the colonies possessed in their entirety, however, was unknown.
Levent maintained his claim however that powerful Elemental magics were at work here. No other force could have widened the path so quickly. “Beyond our prestigious Guild’s mercenaries, I am certain they have mages within their ranks that could do such things in the realm of fire and water.”
“What makes you so sure of the Elementals, Sorcerer?” The previously silent woman, Saadet. Her eyes went from her drink to meet Levent’s through a haze of smoke. The others around her were quited by her informality.
Levent glared back at with disdain. “Typical youth! You know, saboteur, it is actually comforting as you get older to realize that the more you think you know, the more you realize you’ll never know. And though you be invited to sit at Volkan’s table, you will still address me as Sir Levent, and extend the same courtesy to everyone here.”
Saadet, the group’s saboteur, was expressionless. Her dark brown eyes were deceiving. Levent, for all his wisdom and perception, could not ascertain what to make of this woman. Her face never revealed her true emotions, but he also wondered at times if she even had any. Her calm and quiet demeanor seemed borderline sedation at times, but the inner brilliance and intensity in her eyes was a constant. Her black hair was cropped short, her skin pale…and those eyes! Can only a mage like myself see something so strange in them?
Volkan enjoyed the bitterness in Levent’s voice. He found it amusing the way his senior mage had just been challenged but hid his smile behind another cup of ale. Sensing the awkwardness of the ensuing silence, Gedik stepped in. “Fair enough then, young Saboteur. Pray tell, how do you think they completed the Khanduras Pass so quickly.”
Saadet leaned back in her chair and spoke in a naïve tone, “Perhaps demon magic?”
Several burst into laughter at this. A machinist whose primary purpose was to inspect equipment for tampering as well as sabotage enemy forces, suggested this. From her mouth she casually utters the words demon magic.
Her gaze broke from Levent’s and quickly moved about the other at the table. “It is not as if they do not exist anymore.” Saadet seemed embarrassed, but Levent suspected a feint.
“Of course they exist, little Saboteur. But not on the scale you are suggesting and not for tasks as mundane as landscaping.” Levent reveled in his expertise. “Since the defeat of the Prime Evils, most concentrations of demonic magics quickly dissipated. Whatever remains in our world is precariously held onto by fringe groups who are falling rapidly falling to the Light each day.”
“And what of the demons themselves, Levent?” challenged Volkan.
“My good commander, even the Fallen could not be compelled by mortal agencies to do such a thing, nor do they possess so much power.”
“But there are supposedly many powerful demons holed up in the Dreadlands,” said Gedik.
“Exactly. Holed up! What would they be doing lending their magics and devices to mortals while trying to avoid slaughter? With their masters banished from this world, it is unlikely they are organized enough to even attack a small encampment.”
Another warrior spoke up. “I must agree with Levent. The demons are broken in this world. What we largely have to contend with these days are merely the undead.”
Levent returned to focus on Saadet. “Demons may be powerful, but neither should we overestimate them, especially in this new age.”
Saadet’s sharp eyes matched Levent’s and with a slight smile, said, “You seem very knowledgeable in demons and their magics, Sir….Levent.”
“I have fought more demons in my lifetime than you’ve tinkered with machines, young one.” Levent wondered where his insecurities had suddenly come from. He feared his words rang transparent among his fellow men and women. But was it mere insecurity that Saadet had instilled in him? Levent suddenly realized it was much worse. Fear! I fear this woman!
His thoughts were interrupted by Volkan’s outburst. “So have we all!” Everyone but Levent and Saadet raised their cups in the air and echoed their brave commander’s sentiment. Laughter and drinking ensued as Volkan went on. “Gedik! Tell everyone to gather up their gear and meet up at the trailhead in an hour. I want a full headcount before we embark.”
“Yes, sir.” Gedik swiftly departed the tavern.
“To the rest of you, for whatever reason the Consortium deems this a high priority mission. Muse over their reasons all you want as long as it does not interfere with your duties. Despite our expertise, we will still be stretched thin along the caravan. Let the colonists see what real professional mercenaries can do. Protect the caravan. Dismissed.”
In the bustle of everyone leaving the tavern, Levent quickly lost sight of Saadet. He was lethargic and in a daze as he walked outside. Perhaps I merely drank too much.
Sitting back in her tent, Saadet opened her satchel and began packing all her tools. Various exotic devices of the machinist were carefully wrapped into folding cloths. Oils, glass lenses, metal rods and tiny cogs were all being mentally inventoried and stowed away. Two folded cloths remained lying on the floor. Saadet picked one up and inserted her right arm into it. The piece of cloth fell to the ground as her arm locked itself smoothly and precisely into her most exotic device of all. A wicked three-pronged blade. The candlelight in her tent reflected off its gleaming metal and illuminated her dark eyes. Saadet reached out with the poisoned metal claw as it became an extension of her arm, she herself becoming the extension of justice. Justice in its purest form, delivered only by the Viz-Jaq’taar. The assassin made one last inspection of her claw before concealing them both in her robe. She finished packing all her things and stepped outside to roll up her tent. Headed toward the convoy she uttered quietly to herself, “They’ll never see me coming….”