Barnaby the Wanderer

Chapter 3: Where Spirits Build Houses of Moon and Wisp

Val the Bard

When battle comes, I take the lead. Wherefore not? I am a bard. I sing of battles and so of course I know all about them unless I lie.

Therefore, it came humbling to awaken, find I'd been led up the mountain like a child. While the two Benefactors I considered least responsible had taken sober charge.

Bridget's sainted bits, but that snake bite hurt. And Bodkin ripping it from my side hurt worse. Granted, he saved my life. He, and Barnaby. And Jewel. And Cedric and Matilda. Oh hell, I owed them all.

First thing upon waking in the tower hall, I heard Matilda hiss warning. I jumped up, drew knife, watched her put arrow to eye of some wandering revenant. If you wonder, we dragged the body out of the tower.

Second thing I did was move our camp somewhere more defensible. We chose a balcony looking down over the hall and the entrance. Narrow and easily defended, with plentiful window light.

Third thing: I went back to sleep. So did the others. Kick St. Lucif in all seven asses, but we were all worn and weary. With wounds still healing. We needed rest.

Only as evening came did I stir. Daring to stretch, check my side. Welcomed another scar, fresh-puckered. Alexandra would be impressed, the battle-besotted lunatic.

The other Benefactors rose as well. We sat wrapped in blankets sipping hot coffeeish, supping on rations from separate nations. Alas, no wood for a campfire. We discussed our climb to the tower, and the map, and the dead Hefestian.

"Shouldn't we tell his friends?" That, from Barnaby. I shook my head.

"No point. They're dead."

"All of them?" That, from a horrified Cedric. "The whole expedition? Crew and scholars alike?"

I nodded.

"Consider. The man lay dead some two days. The blood trail says he came from the upper floors. His friends haven't sought him. We haven't seen anyone, heard anyone. Though they must have spied us come up the mountain, battle the guardians."

"What killed them?" That, from Barnaby.

Bodkin gave quick answer, the same I'd give.

"One another, most like." He held the two diamonds in his hand, rattling them together same as dice in an alley game. "The dead fellow was hurt, but going from his friends, not to them. With a Hefestian gas dart in his belly. Probably the studious folk stumbled across glittery things, came to open murder."

"That rings true," sighed Cedric. "Greed is a more powerful trap than any magical sending."

"Easy enough to find out," declared Matilda. "Tomorrow let's go up the stairs. Lot more light upwards than that dark passage down."

"But the map says downwards," pointed out Barnaby.

"Don't need the map if we don't go there," argued the Silenian. "And if there's treasure up in the air and light, why seek it in the nasty dark?"

These words impressed the Benefactors, myself included.

"Might be treasure upwards," said Bodkin. Giving the diamonds another dice-rattle. "But old Mercutio is saying the easiest paths have the nastiest traps. The Festians thought they could just float to the top of the Saintless Tower. That kind of clever never ends well. Folk don't naturally get up and walk, two days dead."

My bard instincts chimed in, agreeing with the little rogue. Rather, the old rogue in his head. Not that I have a bard in my head whispering advice. That'd annoy the hell out of me.