“That must be it" Quinn said out of breath from his climb, “It’s not very impressive is it?". The tower was tall and plain, set atop a hill overlooking a winding river that reflected the colors of the setting sun as it wound its way across the plain to the horizon. Quinn looked at the hill in distaste. “I’m getting tired of climbing."
"Oh stop complaining." Sizrit cawed from above "We're almost there. Just think. The witches can teleport us back to Waterdeep and you can enjoy a nice, frothy, mug of ale by nightfall."
"Nightfall is not that far away." Quinn said gesturing to the dusk sun.
“Neither is the tower now hop to it!"
The tower cast a long shadow as the sun set making the old, gray bricks seem black and ominous. As they approached Sizrit noticed a light coming from a doorless opening at the base of the tower. Shadows moved in the tower and Sizrit cawed a warning to Quinn.
“There’s someone in there." Sizrit called down to Quinn
"Well I sure as the Nine Hells hope so! We didn't come all this way for it to be empty." Quinn snarled
“Touché! Still, it would be wise to approach with caution."
Quinn began climbing up the hill, being sure to keep to the shadow of the tower. He approached the wall and sidled his way to the door keeping close to the wall. Suddenly a women's scream rang out from the tower and Quinn watched as three red robed men fled the tower. With a gesture from the leader the three men vanished with a loud crack and flash of light.
“What in the name of Mystra was that?" Sizrit cried. Quinn paid no mind and peeked in the doorway. There sprawled on the floor of the tower was a woman dressed in black and silver with a beautiful mask devoid of features save for the eyes, with plumes of pink, green and purple feathers adorning the sides. She lay in a widening pool of her own blood.
“I think I found our Witch." Quinn said as he approached the body. He bent low to look at the means by which she died. There was no dagger and the hole in her chest looked seared through her flesh.
“A small fire ball by the looks of it." Sizrit flew to Quinn’s shoulder “The work of the Red Wizards." He spat, “Vile, evil men of Thay that thirst for power that can manipulate spell energy to their design. They were the ones fleeing from here."
“I figured that thanks. I wonder who she is." He reached for the mask and pulled it from her face. A surge of energy passed through Quinn like a cold shiver as he held the mask in his hand. The women was beautiful, her deep brown eyes were frozen in shock as she stared lifelessly up at Quinn. Quinn shed a tear over her porcelain features, not so much from the loss of his way home but for how much she reminded him of his mother. Shortly after he removed the mask the body turned to ash and her form dissipated leaving only her clothes behind. Quinn stood up with a start when this happened.
“And so passes a Lady of Rashemar, may her soul dance with the spirits of her land. Be at rest." Sizrit hopped over to her resting place and bowed to what was left of the witch's form.
"Mother!!" Shrieked a voice from behind them. Quinn turned sharply and looked in shock at the form of another masked woman slightly shorter than the dead one at his feet. Her gaze fell to the ashen form and then turned glaring eyes on Quinn. She waved her hands and vines sprouted up all around Quinn, entwining themselves around his legs and arms, holding him fast.
“I didn't do it! I found her like that!" Quinn yelled frantically. The women walked to him and ripped the mask from his hands.
“We’ll see about that. You are hereby under arrest to stand trial for the murder of Othura Ravenwind." The Witch said trembling with rage and tears. Quinn looked to the floor defeated.
"So much for Ale before nightfall." The woman waved her hands again and they vanished from the tower...
To be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment