The Horn of Deliverance
Session Eleven of the Path Perfidious Campaign

Terday, 16 Dark Days 204

Twenty days after leaving the sea cave at Gallworth Arvan, Nicos Allumière, Rio Shai’ir, Alicia Shai’ir, Parvan, Sendress and Caius arrive in the druidic glade at the centre of the great Úngorn forest. Arvan is quick to remind Nicos of the many rules governing this place, the greatest of which is that he should under no circumstances set anything on fire.

Nicos is rather distracted. It has been thirty-three days since his battle in the pit of magma with the spirit of Tarrashar. Thirty-three days since he wrested the mantle of Firewalker from the scheming Malificent scumbag. Nicos tries to follow the advise of Belerus Rothsman and Julian Maynard, and tries not to use the powers of the Firewalker, but it is very difficult. He is connected to every Fire-Eye in Norandor and now, thanks to the work of Tarrashar, there are hundreds of them. He can see through their eyes, he can interrogate their thoughts. This appeals to the voyeur in him. But Nicos knows that if he uses his powers, members of the Church of Fire loyal to Tarrashar could track the power back to its source.

Being Firewalker was only ever a temporary measure, soon he will have to find a way to give it up, before someone else pulls the same trick he did and tries to rob him of it. Nicos doesn’t fancy being reduced to a drooling vegetable.

So Nicos is too rapped up in his own thoughts to see what Arvan and the others see. The clearing is completely empty. It is only nine days to the Vernal Equinox and the great druidic moot. This place should already be a hive of activity, but there is nothing. The devastation wrought by the Shadow Circle and the trolls in the summer has been repaired, but for all the great natural beauty of this place, magnified by the mulit-coloured hues of Autumn, there is no one to enjoy it.

Arvan is confused. He and Caius move forward to the great oak that stands to the side of the crystal clear lake and call for the guardian of this place to manifest herself. There is a rippling in the bark of the tree and the dryad, Blossom, steps out onto the cold grass. “Arvan!” she exclaims, “Thank goodness someone has come!”

Arvan asks where all the other druids are. Blossom doesn’t know for sure, but she is terribly worried. Arvan says that the last he heard from Great Druid Morgase Esseni she was leading the druids north to face the waves of undead emanating from the Wraith Haunt. Blossom nods. Morgase and hundreds of druids went to protect Timberlake, but that was weeks ago and she has heard nothing from them since.

Arvan is shocked, and there is little his mother or Parvan can do to reconcile him. Could the druidic order have marched their last march? He sits at the bottom of Blossom’s tree and begins to think over his options. Suddenly he hears a snuffling in the earth behind and turning he is amazed to see the badger, Tok and atop him two rats he is intimately familiar with.

Arvan abandoned his animal companions on the edge of the Plains of Acheron on 32 of Midsummer, almost exactly one season ago. What adventures they must have had to get back here! They must have crossed through dwarven lands and through the Underworld, past the lairs of mind-flayers and worse. But now they are reunited! Arvan determines that if a badger can make it all the way back from Kerikal with only rats and a crow for company, then Morgase Esseni and her druids can withstand the undead. He will wait in this clearing until they return.

Sunday, 21 Dark Days 204

At dusk a terrible screeching begins. It might be considered a song were it not a terrible banshee wail that speaks nothing but malevolence. It comes from a great distance, from the north, but it is audible all over the forest. The animals are spooked. The trees quiver. Blossom sits at the foot of her tree and rocks backwards and forwards. It stirs fear in the pit of the stomachs of all who hear it. Arvan, who has walked the Great Dark and endured its horrors has heard such a thing before. It is demonsong, and it seems to be coming from the Wraith Haunt.

Caladay, 25 Dark Days 204

The demonsong has continued every night, through the hours of darkness, these last four days. With each day it becomes more unsettling. Now, on the day of the Vernal Equinox Arvan and the others hope that the druids will return and that they can gain some comfort.

It is noon before there is any movement in the forest. A procession of weary travellers enter the grove from the north. Some of them Arvan and Nicos do not recognise. Others stand out in the crowd. Great Druid Morgase Esseni and Archdruid Jelanie are among the number, as is the centaur Haskar. Creatures spring from the undergrowth wildshaping into men and women. Many pay no attention to you, collapsing where they stand.

Morgase and Jelanie come over to Arvan and his companions. They are delighted to that he is come here, and Arvan is eager to introduce his mentor and his mother to them. However, he is stopped in his tracks by the sight of the women that come to greet him. They look terrible.

Jelanie seems to have aged twenty years, but it is Morgase who has fared by far the worse. The Great Druid is not the woman Arvan remembers. Her face once so smooth and ageless is torn and ruined. Three festering claw strokes run from her left cheek diagonally across her face. Wounds that will not heal. But it is her eyes that show the greatest change. She is no longer serene. Arvan can see. She has seen defeat, and death and she has known fear.

When she speaks words of explanation they are garbled and slightly incoherent. Jelanie has to coax some words from Morgase, or explain the meaning of them. “After the undead poured from the Wraith Haunt, the Order acted to intercept them before they reached the city of Timberlake. We spread the word. Villages were abandoned, refugees rushed to the safety of the city. We faced the undead horde in the village of Harton, fifty miles from Timberlake. Less than a day’s march for the undead.”

“All the druids that could be found were brought together. Every member of the inner circle, and even some of the Uninitiated. There were seven hundred of us all together. Our numbers were swollen by rangers, sprites – even a group of Wood Giants. All together one thousand of us stood against the Rising Tide at Harton.”

“We held them for five days. Outnumbered twenty to one. Thirty to one. They just kept coming. On the fourth day a force of priests of the Sylvani Church came to our aid. The Sylvani Church! It was insufficient. On the fifth day, the undead closed around us. It was a massacre. Archdruid Glipson was the last to fall. I faced,” Morgase stops and shudders, “I faced a creature too horrible to contemplate.”

Jelanie lays a reassuring hand on Morgase’s shoulder and takes up the story. “But we gave Timberlake five days. Their defences held until the undead lost their impetus and were repulsed. Of the seven hundred druids who stood at Harton, only fifty walked out again. What you see in this clearing are all that is left of the Norandon Circle. Morgase and I are all that is left of the Inner Circle.”

Arvan does not know what to say. He scans the clearing. There are but tens of druids here. Is that is all that is left of the Norandon Circle? Nicos has another question. Why did the undead lose their impetus? What made them turn back?

Jelanie admits that no-one knows why this was the case. Reports have reached her of the same thing happened at Northmeet and throughout the northlands. On the bring of victory they turned and the retreated. When asked when this way, Jelanie gives the date and Arvan realises its significance. “The same day Mínaris died.”

The group rests and eats, and after the meal Morgase and Jelanie come to Arvan and Nicos again. This time they are accompanied by a group of individuals they do recognise. “Here it comes, “says Nicos, “they’re going to ask us to do something heroic. I can feel. Well not me. No. Not anymore,” he spares a glance at Rio, “I’m not going to be myself killed.”

Morgase smiles through her ravaged features and begins to tell Arvan that their troubles are far from over. “The Northlands are still in deadly danger, Arvan. As you are aware, four nights ago, The Keening began. It originates from the Wraith Haunt. Since the undead turned back they have been returning to that place. The creature inside that commands them, a being called Sarakite has called in her children and now….. now we suspect she is about to unleash them once more.”

“If this happens then Northmeet and Timberlake will fall in days. There is no force in this land that can stop them. There are too many and they are too strong. But there may still be some hope. Jelanie?”

Jelanie continues, “Legends speak of an artefact that may help us. I say may, because nothing is certain. Long has the Order searched for this, and only in the last few days have clues to its whereabouts fallen into our possession. Ironic, considering how useful it would have been at Harton. It is a hunting horn, made of finest ivory, inlaid with mithril and adamant. We need you to find that horn and bring it to us.”

Morgase says, “With so few remaining druids The Challenge is a tradition that being put aside for the time being. Find this horn for us Arvan, and you would be a druid of the Inner Circle without question.”

“Where it is?” asks Nicos, a little surprised by his own boldness. Jelanie nods, smiles and then slowly says, “You remember the dragon, Vaprissar? We have every reason to believe the Horn can be found in her horde. The location of Vaprissar’s lair is known to us. She has not been seen in the Úngorn in two months. She has abandoned her lair. Of course, it is still likely to be protected and trapped.”

“Lovely,” says the fire cleric. “Glad I asked.”

Morgase says that they will not embark upon this quest alone. Three individuals who aided the druids at the Battle of Harton survived and have accompanied the order back to this glade. She gestures to the three figures behind her, a Man, a Half-orc and a Hobbit.

The man is dressed in ornate plate armour that is badly dented by battle. He is introduced as Sir Keteren, the only member of his knightly order to survive the battle. Keteren bows respectfully to Arvan. The Half-orc is built more powerfully than even Arvan. His name is Kell and he was part of a band of warriors sent from the Guild of Adventurers to help the druids. He armed with a great chain. The hobbit is clad in studded leather, and is leaning on a short lance, his riding dog by his side. His name is Ezekiel de Chesiré.

“Not another one!” exclaims Nicos. “How many of you people are there?” Ezekiel seems absolutely fascinated that Nicos has met other members of his (admittedly) enormous family. Nicos explains that they have met Balthasar de Chesiré and, of course Jedidiah de Chesiré who is away with the elves. “Yes, we’ve always thought that about Jedidiah,” says Ezekiel.

The group get ready to depart at first light tomorrow. Nicos attempts to use his scrying mirror, but fails to find Elias, Brack or Maynard when he looks for them. Thinking that the thing is faulty he hands it to Rio to look after. Rio has been taking care of her sister for much of this time. When it is safe, she wants to return to Lartan Cross and see her father, Amarice. Nicos agrees to go with her.

Before they retire for the evening, Arvan asks Jelanie what the horn does. The archdruid smiles wryly and says, “Hope is a dangerous friend. You should understand that Arvan. Nothing promotes despair more than a false hope, or a hope that is snatched away. Morgase and I would prefer not to reveal the nature of the Horn until we have it in our hands. If you fail to retrieve it, no-one will miss what we never had, when we face the undead without it.”

Sharday, 26 Dark Days 204

Arvan, Nicos, Keteren on horseback, Ezekiel (with his riding dog, Saab) and Kell depart the glade. Their other companions remain behind. Parvan has much to discuss with the druids, Arvan has no intention of endangering his mother on this mission, Rio remains to watch over her sister and Arvan trusts Caius to take care of everyone for him. Sendress hugs Arvan and does her best to give him an embarassing send off. Nicos is in high spirits. “I am so happy that we have no more paladins any more!” he says, “No more morals!”

It is two days to the lair of Vaprissar. Arvan and Nicos remember nearly blundering into it with Archdruid Tular last summer. The Úngorn is an ancient and foreboding woodland, and would spell a quick death to hapless travellers. However, under the guidance of a druid of Arvan’s experience the journey is not fraught with danger. Nicos does his best to stop himself from using his abilities as the Firewalker, and also revealing his true identity to his new companions.

Morday, 27 Dark Days 204

Close to dusk the party emerge from the tightly packed, ancient trees into large small steep-sided clearing. Despite the absence of the green dragon for several months, the stench of chlorine gas hangs heavily in the air. From their vantage point the ground drops away sharply into a muddy and slimy jungle of weeds, brambles and fungus. a great rocky edifice rises from the centre of the clearing more than a hundred yards distant. A yawning chasm is visible leading deep into the earth. It is certainly large enough to admit a dragon of Vaprissar’s size.

“Well let’s get on with it,” says Sir Keteren and spurs his horse down into the clearing. The others quickly follow him and make their way toward the cave mouth. Arvan advises caution. Kell unslings his chain and begins expertly swinging it about his person. They come to a stop at the edge of a moat of rotting vegetable that surrounds the entrance to the dragon’s lair. Thus far they are unopposed, but Arvan senses there is something wrong.

Motioning the others to stay back he moves toward the opening. Immediately the undergrowth writhes and animates in a huge creature. Two great arms made up of decaying vegetation are brought into being and flail out at Arvan. The druid dodges them both. A huge mouth opens in the mound and roars at Arvan.

But the druid is not unduly concerned. His powers can protect him from such creatures.. Calling upon the power of nature Arvan prepares to surround himself with an impenetrable barrier, through which plant life cannot cross. He has no doubt he will succeed. Unless of course he is distracted.

“Heads up!” yells Nicos and Arvan can feel the familiar ripple in the air as one of Nicos’s fireballs rattles toward him and the monster. Instinctively Arvan flings himself to one side, his own spell ruined. The fireball explodes, waves of flame washing over the druid and ruining another perfectly serviceable outfit. The plant creature is blown to smithereens.

Nicos rushes over and picks Arvan up. “Good thing I was here, eh?” Arvan doesn’t bother to say that he had the situation well under control – it wouldn’t do any good. He begins to cast magic to heal himself. Ezekiel is looking down into the darkness. Leaping onto Saab he bounds toward the opening, but the dog immediately retreats. The way down into darkness is extremely steep, but completely awash with acid. Saab’s feet are badly burned. Arvan pauses to heal them.

“Look!” yells Kell. The plant creature, although seemingly destroyed by Nicos’s fireball, has pulled itself back together and is once again on the attack. Kell lashes out with his chain, taking a large chunk of creature off. “Do not cast a fireball,” says Arvan sternly to Nicos. “I should be aloud to,” he says, “I am the Firew…” but Arvan clamps his hand over Nicos’s mouth. “Oh yeah,” Nicos grins sheepishly moments later. “Forgot.”

As Arvan and Nicos talk the others act. Keteren and Ezekiel mount their steeds and unsling their lances. They both charge the creature. The combined force of both warrior, each great knights in their own way, is too much for the creature which again falls. Arvan walks over to the remains and looks at it. What manner of creature is this?

Nicos steps over the dead plant creature and stops at the cave mouth. He can see what looks like water running in a stream about a quarter inch deep down a steep incline into darkness. This is the acid that wounded Saab. Nicos steps forward into the cave, and then leaps out again. His boots are smoking. He needs another plan. Suddenly a brainwave strikes the cleric.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. As Arvan is working out the nature of their foe, Nicos unslings his shield and prepares to surf down the incline and into the dragon’s lair. The vegetation twitches. Arvan orders everyone back. He knows what it is now. “It’s a tendriculous,” he says. “Their powers of regeneration make even a troll’s look mundane. They can only be truly destroyed by acid.” Keteren points out that they really don’t have any acid. Ezekiel mentions the cave mouth and they look up in time to see Nicos disappear into it. Arvan’s shouts to stop are lost as the tendriculous lurches forward toward him, Keteren, Kell and Ezekiel.

There is a ripping sound as the tendriculous pulls its shallow roots from the ground and lumbers toward Arvan. It lashes out and catches Arvan a tremendous blow. It tries to pull the druid into its maw, but Arvan resists. Kell lashes out, and suddenly Keteren and Ezekiel run it down again, destroying it. But within seconds it is reforming.

Meanwhile, Nicos is having the time of his life. Hurtling down the dark tunnel, his hand engulfed in flame to light the way, he clambers onto his knees and then his feet and then yells in delight as he swerves around all the obstructions before him. He can tell that he full moon of Calafax has just risen, he feels supercharged! There is nothing that can stop him now.

Nothing but bad luck and ineptitude. The shield thuds into a large rock and stops. Nicos doesn’t. He is pitched forward, landing chest-first on the acid washed floor and continues his descent into peril. The acidic spray washes up into his face and burns him. Nicos yells in pain and rolls to a stop. He is surrounded by darkness and covered in acid. It is at this point a formless creature of sickly yellow hue drops from the ceiling, engulfing the fire cleric and prepares to digest him.

On the surface the tendriculous has risen again. Arvan concentrates and calls upon his powers to snare the mind of the creature and bend it to his will. Miraculously the tendriculous shakes off the effects of the spell. The magic has angered it and now Arvan is its only target. It lashes out and wounds Arvan. The druid tries the spell again. Again it fails. Arvan is badly wounded now, and although Kell is taking chunks out of the creature, Keteren and Ezekiel are still turning their steeds making ready to charge it. A sense of dread washes over the druid as the tentacles of the creature snake out again and grab him firmly around the shoulders. Arvan is drawn inside the beast.

Nicos yells in surprise, and some of the yellow creature enters his mouth. He can feel the beast secreting an acid of some kind, trying to dissolve him. Well, two can play at that game, he thinks. Calling upon the power of Calafax Nicos surrounds himself in an aura of flame, and lights up like a firework. It being the full moon, the fire immediately begins to heal him, but the acid is still hurting him. The healing fire and the burning acid battle against one another as Nicos, enveloped by the mould and arms pinned to his side, runs at full pelt back up the passageway to the surface.

Kell steps back as Ezekiel and Keteren charge the tendriculous for a third time. They have to be very careful with their aim. Arvan is inside the creature, and its gut can’t be much larger than the druid. Their lances thunder home, the tendriculous explodes and an inert Arvan pitches forward into Kell’s arms.

At that moment Nicos explodes out of the cave. The burning fire that surrounds him seem to be having a net gain in regard to his health. The yellow mould finally burns away. Nicos stands there for a few moments as the cleansing fire heals him completely. But he is broken from his reverie by the words of Sir Keteren, who Nicos now sees bending over Arvan’s body. “He is dead,” says the knight.

The next few moments are a blur to Nicos. He doesn’t acknowledge Ezekiel and Kell taking the opportunity to cut the tendriculous into small bits and throw it into the cave where the acid will finally destroy it. All he can see is the inert, burned form of Arvan. He checks his pulse and there is nothing. He casts his own meagre healing magic, but nothing happens.

He cannot believe it. After all Arvan has gone through…… the Great Dark (twice!), the Mannenites, the Prince and Mínaris – after all that, he has been killed by an ambulatory compost heap. Arvan is dead. Again. Nicos feels empty inside, and it is many minutes before Keteren can raise him from his reverie.

“We still have a mission to complete,” says the knight. Nicos’s reply is short and to the point. Fortunately Keteren chooses not to hold it against him. Nicos curses his luck. If only he was a little more proficient in the ways of Calafax, he could restore Arvan to life! He could…… wait? May be he can restore Arvan to life. Maybe he has the power after all.

In the clearing, under the full moon of Calafax, Nicos beseeches his god. He begs Calafax to restore his friend to life. He keeps up this pleading for ten minutes, but nothing happens. “Why did you think that would work?” asks Ezekiel. “Because I’m the fecking Firewalker!” exclaims Nicos. “You’re the Firewalker?” – “Crap,” says Nicos.

“The druids may be able to reincarnate him,” says Kell, but Nicos is not too keen on having Arvan come back as a hummingbird or a mollusc. It should be up to Calafax. He is the god of rebirth. And then it occurs to Nicos that he does have a spell that might be able to restore Arvan to life.

Nicos begins to burn away the vegetation with his magic. He asks the others to help him form a clearing of ash and the to get dry wood that he can burn. He is going to use his magic to summon a creature of Calafax that has the power to return Arvan to them. The others are not convinced this is such a good idea, but Nicos is so focused that they don’t like to gainsay him.

Soon the preparations are made and Nicos calls upon Calafax’s power. The heat in the clearing is suddenly intense. Saab and Keteren’s horse whinny and prance nervously. Vegetation all around them springs into flame. The walls between worlds are made paper thin and then they tear, and standing before them in the clearing is a creature not of this world.

Its skin is a dark red, deepening to black in places. It stands eight-feet in height and is bedecked in gold. A single horn protrudes from its forehead. Its hands end in wicked talons. At its side is an enormous curved sword. Wisps of flame run over its body. Its teeth are pointed and yellow; its breath sulphurous. “Who summons me?” it demands in a voice that sounds like an exploding volcano.

Nicos steps forward. He says that he has summoned it, and that it asks that it restore his friend Arvan to life. “I can do such a thing,” says the creature, “what do you offer in return?” – “Come again?” asks Nicos. “We must strike a bargain,” says the creature. “You scratch my back, I resurrect your friend. It is all very simple. Give me something I want.”

“So what do you want?” asks Nicos. Ezekiel slaps his face at the cleric’s pathetic bargaining skills. The creature smiles. “I have always been particularly partial to mortal women. If you promise to find me ten mortal women I will bring your friend back to life.” For some time Nicos seriously considers it. Keteren, Ezekiel and Kell urge him not to be so daft as to make a bargain with this creature, and eventually Nicos is persuaded that the whole ‘mortal women’ thing is a bad idea.

But Arvan is still dead. Ezekiel advises asking the druids to reincarnate him. It is the only way. Grudgingly, Nicos agrees. But he still has the enormous extraplanar bruiser who is looking to do him a favour. Perhaps if Nicos asks a small thing, the price won’t be so high. Nicos explains that there is a dragon’s lair down the tunnel and they are looking for an important artefact (that he describes).

“Can you get all the treasure out here?” asks Nicos. “Yes,” says the creature, “what do you offer in return.” – “You can have half of it,” says Nicos, “including half the magic items as long as we get the Horn.” The creature agrees. In a flash of flame he disappears. Moments later he reappears with a ton of gold and platinum as well as several magical items.

After the casting of several spells, the magical items are identified and the bargaining begins. In addition to the horn, there is a collection of scrolls in an elaborately decorated ivory tube, a large book faced in electrum, a two-handed sword with a large ruby set into the pommel, a plain gold ring, a small unadorned stick that is taken to be a wand and an amulet of iron, wrought into the shape of a tortoise-shell.

Nicos takes the hunting horn, and it is everything that Jelanie promised it would be. The ivory is exquisitely worked in abstract designs of great complexity. Precious mithril and bands of adamant also adorn it.

As Nicos has made the first choice, the summoned creature of Calafax makes the second. He takes the ring. Nicos quickly takes the book. The creature takes the amulet. Nicos takes the scrolls. The creature takes the wand. This leaves one item: the sword. By the way Sir Keteren is dancing about and pantomiming swinging a great sword about, Nicos can sense that he wants it. A further bargain is made with the creature, it takes all the coinage in return for the sword. It agrees. In a flash of fire the creature is gone.

Nicos gives Ezekiel the horn for safe keeping. Keteren begins to play with his sword. He notices that there is something inside the gem on the pommel. It is something that seems to move, but he cannot make out what it is. Kell on the other hand begins loading the remains of the treasure onto Keteren’s horse. Even after all the gold was removed a large collection of gems, sculpture and other intricately made trinkets remain. Sorting through these and realising their value will take some time.

Soon, they are ready to depart. Nicos reverentially slings the body of Arvan over the horse and they begin their journey back to Jelanie and the druids. They have succeeded in their mission, but at a terrible price. A price made more terrible as a stark realisation dawns on Nicos. “Ah Crap. I left my shield in that cave.”

Vítday, 29 Dark Days 204

After a day traipsing through the Úngorn, the party return to the glade of the druids. Nicos is quick to break the news of what happened to Arvan to his mother and the rest of the druids in his own inimitable fashion. Needless to say the news is not phrased in an a manner that eased the pain. Nicos demands that the druids work their mojo and bring Arvan back from the dead.

Morgase Esseni is unsure. “What is dead is dead,” she tells Nicos, “Arvan has gone, and we should respect his passing.” However, Jelanie does not agree. “Such respect means nothing in these times, Morgase! From what Nicos has said Arvan lost his life through sheer misfortune…..”

“No, Jelanie,” says Morgase grimly. “There is no such thing as misfortune, only the hand of Fate. To snatch at Arvan and return him to the land of the living against the will of Fate is dangerous. No good would come of it.”

“No good?” Jelanie is now on her feet and actively arguing with Morgase. Such a thing would never have happened before the losses of Harton Moor. The party realise they are watching a shift in power among in the druidic order. If Morgase was eminently suited as a leader in peace, it is Jelanie who has found the strength to guide the Order in war.

“You know what is coming, Morgase. You know what we face. I am not talking about the undead, or Sarakite or anything blowing a horn will save us from. There are horrors unspeakable on the horizon for this world. Evil Iourn has not seen in a thousand years will soon be upon us. And who has warned us of all this? Who has forced us to revisit our own history and re-discover all we had forgotten? Arvan! He has walked the Great Dark, Morgase. For ten seasons he saw things that none of us could be prepared for. There are things in his mind that could save thousands, tens of thousands. We need him Morgase. You must restore him.”

Jelanie’s words make an impression on Morgase. She agrees to do what she can for Arvan, but she makes no promises. Sometimes the soul is unwilling to return. Jelanie scoffs at that. “Arvan knows that he has much more work left to do before he can rest,” she says confidently. Nicos hopes she is right. He does not want to lose his friend.

At dusk Arvan’s body is laid out on the damp grass, gleaming in the moonlight. What remains of the Order gathers around to watch the ritual. Both Parvan and Sendress are invited to take small roles. The ritual of reincarnation is more subtle magic than the one Nicos would have employed if he had been able. It is similar to the magic Arvan himself tried to weave to bring Alessandre back from the dead in Greymere. A new body will come into being to be inhabited by the spirit of the deceased. There is no guarantee what race that body will be. It will depend on Arvan’s inner self.

The procedure takes an hour. Then Morgase openly appeals to the spirit of Arvan to return. He responds. Once, Arvan would never have contemplated agreeing to this procedure. If killed he would have stayed dead, but Jelanie knows his character well. It is the weight of the responsibility that drags him back to the living world.

Arvan opens his eyes and takes his first breaths in his new body. Something is different. He tries to stand and stumbles. He has had little practice in co-ordinating four limbs. He walks slowly to the edge of the pool and looks in. Under the rays of the full moon of Calafax he see the reflection of a white leopard staring back at him. The first form he ever wildshaped into. A form of special significance to him.

Nicos’s rambunctious swearing snaps Arvan from his reverie and he returns to his companions. He is a snow-leopard now, in body if not in mind. However, he is still blessed with the ability to speak and he does so. His first enquiry is to whether the horn was recovered or not. Nicos proudly waves it his face and says that it’s going to take some getting used to. Of that Arvan definitely agrees.

Terday, 30 Dark Days 204

At noon the druidic order gathers once again to prepare for the sounding of the horn. Morgase and Jelanie are still being close-lipped over what it will actually do. Arvan is extremely interested, although he is tired having spent much of the night trying out his new form. Although he can wildshape into a half-orc, he cannot turn back into the Arvan he once was. That chapter of his life may be forever behind him.

Rio takes Nicos to one side, she seems very serious. Nicos enquires what is wrong and she says, “It is your mirror. I used it to scry for Drasha the night before last.” – “Is Drasha hurt?” asks Nicos. Rio shakes her head, “No. Drasha is fine. She and Elias are travelling west on a boat. It’s just that…… there’s been a murder, Nicos. A terrible murder. And, I think the killer is Ravenna.”

Before Nicos can respond, Jelanie speaks. The druids gather forward in a half-circle at the edge of the cliff looking out over the Úngorn. “Morgase and I have spent the night divining the authenticity, and it is opinion that this truly is the Horn of Deliverance. With it, I believe we may have a chance against Sarakite and her undead. Sir Keteren, I ask you to step forward. I believe you are most suited to this task.”

Keteren walks forward slowly, and takes the horn that Jelanie offers him. Jelanie walks back into the circle of druids leaving the knight alone at the centre of the circle. Sparing a glance to his companions, Keteren lifts the horn to his lips and blows.

A cool, clear note reverberates from the horn and echoes around the vastness of the Úngorn woodland. As the sound rebounds from the trees it seems to get louder. Gradually the sound fades away, and with it the Horn of Deliverance. It sparkles in Keteren’s grasp, grows translucent, transparent and then it is gone. The tension in the grove is palpable.

Silence. Then after what seems like an age all can hear it. Distant thunder. But not thunder, the drumming of horse’s hooves on firm ground. Louder the sound grows. Nicos can feel the vibration through your boots. Louder and closer, until the source must be in the clearing itself.

The hoof-beats thunder to a halt. As they do, something materialises on the cliff top before the assembled druids. Twelve steeds of virgin white. Twelve armoured figures astride them. Twelve lances piercing the noonday sky.

Jelanie smiles as she meekly declares, “Behold The Twelve!”

The End of The Horn of Deliverance
The Path Perfidious continues in The Song of Sarakite
Arvan, Nicos, Kell and Keteren next appear in The Search for a Son

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