lower planes where demons or devils await with gleeful anticipation!'
'No! Wait… I will show you the treasure, wealth and more! There are plans that your superiors will find most interesting, and you will gain promotion and favor. Surely for such, you will not slay me! I'll be your willing slave, just give me my life.'
Gord was disgusted by the man's begging, at his suggestion of intrigue and scheming on Gord's part, and his willing acquiescence to bondage for life. 'Silence! Speak again before I tell you, and I'll sever your spine — if you have one. Answer truthfully and exactly: Where is this hoard you yammer of kept?'
'Here, in this very room,' the wounded foeman said without inflection. 'This is the secret chamber of the Elder Brother.'
'Who is this Elder Brother?'
'Our… the… commander of this castle.'
Gord leaned gently on his sword, making the man gasp and squirm slightly. 'You said 'our.' What is 'our'? And what profession does this Elder Brother have other than being castellan?'
'Our Order holds this fortress, and Elder Brother is a High Priest of Tharizdun, thus high within our Order…' At this pause Gord gave another easy prod, and the prone man hastily added, 'The Order is called the Scarlet Brotherhood.'
Gord had heard vague stories about the Scarlet Brotherhood, and he mentally filed the information away for later contemplation. 'Tell me where the treasure is kept,' he barked.
'There is a hidden place, and envenomed darts. Allow me to light candles, and I will show you.'
Although he needed no such illumination, Gord permitted the wounded man to rise. The man fumbled in his belt and drew forth a tinderbox. Gord watched carefully, but the fellow appeared to have no thought of trickery or further resistance. He had accepted the situation, and now sought only to obey. Puffing the sparks into a tiny flame, the prisoner took a small taper and caught its wick afire. In a moment a great candelabrum shed the light of three massive candles over the small apartment. Gord could see another secret door, probably leading to a chamber beyond in which the so-called Elder Brother dwelled. The room he was in had little in it besides the candle stand, a small desk and chair, and a wooden chest of no great size.
'Here,' the wounded prisoner said, pointing to a cabinet that Gord had overlooked. 'I must open this with care, pressing hard on the side panel, else the darts will be loosed upon me when the door is swung outward.'
Moving quickly to avoid any possible discharge of such missiles, Gord observed as the fellow opened the cupboard, shortsword aimed to thrust home at the slightest sign of trickery. The space revealed had several shelves. Upon these boards rested a variety of items — scrolls, loose parchment sheets, an array of small containers, and several leather bags.
'Gold!' the fellow said with an obsequious smile, as he picked up a heavy bag. Its contents shifted and clinked. 'Platinum plates,' he said, patting another, 'and this one holds electrum — all these on the lower shelf do.'
'The rest?' Gord demanded.
'The flat box here holds a store of precious stones used for bribery. The pots and jars are those things common to priestly powers — the stuff for spell-working. The scrolls are sacred writings of Tharizdun. The other papers are orders and plans… the important documents I told you of… which will bring you much favor with your masters when you hand them the intelligence!'
Without comment, Gord proceeded to take the gems and platinum. This treasure was his by right of conquest and discovery. The remaining wealth he left for the others of his allies. He ordered his captive to carry the scrolls and loose sheets of parchment, and the two returned the way they had come. It was time for Gord to find his friend, Gellor, and report this unsuspected success.
Chapter 3
The last of the prisoners were being marched from Strandkeep as files of dwarves and men wearing the colors of the Prince of Ulek entered the castle to garrison the captured stronghold. The short, broad dwarven soldiery bore the red axe on a white field upon their tabards, while their human counterparts displayed the gold and purple of the Prince's quartered arms, signifying them to be his veteran contingents.
Not all would remain here, of course, for with the fortress in his hands, Prince Olinstaad Corond would certainty advance upon Stoneheim to take that city and gain access to the rich mines to the north of it. There, in the mountainous portion of the Drachensgrab Hills called Wormsjaws, gold and gems were wrested from the stony interiors of many deep mines. His Serene Highness of Ulek desired to regain this wealth, so long lost to his realm.
Now that the way had been unlocked, and Strandkeep made secure as a base of operations, the dwarven prince was likely to attain his desired goal. His army was pressing the disorganized humanoid tribes of the Pomarj eastward, while a force of men from allied petty states of the region called the Wild Coast sought revenge upon these same tribes themselves. Although this motley conglomerate of troops was of questionable effectiveness, their presence far to the north, menacing the town of Highport, certainly split the defender's strength. Ulek could hope to seize and hold a strip of the Pomarj from the Jewel River to Stoneheim, fortifying the northern border of this territory with dwarven-built towers within the Drachensgrabs to the peaks of Wormsjaws.
Some of the mercenary companies that had assisted in the taking of the great castle were now being paid off. Others would be signed on as needed, and such sell-swords were easily enlisted in this part of the Flanaess. No major battle would be fought for many weeks, for the fall of Strandkeep dealt the rulers of the Pomarj a severe blow. They would fall back, regroup, and plan some strategy to recoup.
Among the bodies of mercenaries that were fanning outward from the castle, heading west and north, was a company of riders who bore no special insignia. This group of a hundred or so struck due north, heading into the heart of the Drachensgrab Hills, evidently fearing nothing that might molest them in that wilderness. At the head of the assemblage rode Gord, the druid known as Curley Greenleaf, and a grizzled man called Gellor.
'When we reach the Suss,' the burly druid was saying, referring to a great band of forest to the north, 'I will carry intelligence to all those who must know.'
'Excellent, my friend!' the one-eyed Gellor said approvingly. 'Gord and I will take the company on to Badwall, avoiding any contact with the host of petty nobles gathered under Elredd's banner to war on Highport. Some of our comrades will undoubtedly wish to sell their lances to Elredd, but we will have some force awaiting in Badwall-town when you return.'
'I still say we should take our chinkers,' Gord interjected with a shaking of his fat purse for emphasis, 'and leave the rest of this dangerous business to others. After all, we have risked our lives aplenty during the last months, and we should be allowed to enjoy the spoils of victory… until the money runs out. Time enough for adventure then!'
Gellor shook his head in mock dismay, while the druid made disapproving clucks on the other hand. 'Gord, Gord, will I ever be able to rehabilitate you? Leave your past thievery behind and think as a dedicated agent of those who fight Evil! We must put duty before our personal safety, let alone pleasure, always.'
Despite the jesting tone, Gord knew that Gellor meant what he said. The grizzled, one-eyed bard was indeed a devoted agent serving those who sought to prevent the spread of malign powers throughout the whole of Oerth. He had met the one-eyed man, then posing as a mere thief, long ago in the Bandit Kingdoms; adventured and fought by his side in the far-off lands to the east; and probably owed his life to him.
'Leave off, Gellor, you one-eyed conscience!' Gord retorted. 'I protest this entire quest, but I am resigned to it — else your nagging will drive me as insane as a rune of madness!'
Greenleaf and Gellor laughed, slapped him on the back in comradely approval, and then fell on to their discussion again. This allowed Gord time to reflect on what had led him to the current pass…
Orphan, beggar, and thief he had been in his childhood, an urchin in the slums of Greyhawk's Old City, then a prisoner indentured to the Beggarmaster Theobald. Seeking his fortune in the wide world beyond the city had brought him experience and skill that enabled him not only to survive but to prosper. Accomplished as a fighter with sword and dagger since his early training in Greyhawk, Gord had used his weapons all too often in the course of his wandering adventures, but he didn't really regret this. Coupled with his skill in the art of acrobatics, thievery had
