The Sceptre of Samnos

The Western Sea - Part 7

     That evening, as the yellow sun was setting and a few stars were beginning to show through breaks in the clouds, the six travelers and Kerrinott crouched behind a patch of shrubbery at the edge of the circle of farmland surrounding the sholog village.

     Shologs with short swords and whips were still standing over the nome slaves working the fields, and would continue to do so for another half hour or so until it was fully dark. Kerrinott explained that the slaves would work on the fields for between three and six days before trying to escape, in which case the shologs would either catch them and bring them back or let them go, depending on what mood they were in. After all, there was nowhere the running slaves could go where the shologs couldn't catch them again anytime they wanted. There was no way off the island. Every so often they would simply raid a village to get a few new slaves, an activity they enjoyed a great deal. Every nome on the island, except the very youngest, had served several terms of slavery and they knew that running away was only a temporary solution.

     Even as he spoke, one of the nomes suddenly threw his hoe at the nearest sholog and ran away across the field, straight toward Kerrinott and the questers. They held their breaths in horror as two shologs gave cries of joy and set off in pursuit. If those shologs saw them, the alarm would be raised and their task made a thousand times more difficult, probably impossible. Lirenna prepared to cast a sleep spell on them, a futile gesture as the guards around the village had heard the commotion and were watching in excitement.

     For a moment it seemed as though the nome would make it to freedom, entering the woods less than twenty feet from where the watchers were hiding and leading to their almost certain discovery, but at the last moment the lead sholog, less than ten feet behind, swung his whip and tripped him up as it coiled around his ankles. They pounced on him and carried him back in victory, their bestial faces split in a huge grin at the best bit of fun they'd had all day while the nome struggled helplessly in their grasp, kicking and biting desperately.

     "Monsters!" cried Kerrinott helplessly. "Bastards!"

     Lirenna put a comforting arm around him. "Don't worry," she said. "In a day or two, you'll be free of them forever. As soon as that wizard's dead, the whole ship's crew will come running for their share of the treasure."

     "But how are you going to get in?" asked Kerrinott, pointing to where the nome slaves were being herded into the village by their captors. "They keep just as good a watch at night as in the daytime, and there's no cover in those fields. They'll spot you the moment you stand up!"

     Thomas took off his backpack and rummaged around in it, bringing out a handful of small bottles. Reading their labels, he selected three and put the rest back. "Here we are," he said. "Invisibility and ethereality, courtesy of the great wizard Zebulon, may he rest in peace. I would have preferred two potions of invisibility, but there you are. We just have to make do with what we have. Now then, we said that Shaun and I were going, didn't we? You'd better have the invisibility one then."

     "Good," said Shaun. "I don't like the thought of being ethereal. I'd rather remain solid and substantial, so I can fight if necessary."

     "Okay," said Thomas, handing him the bottle, "but remember that you run the risk of breaking the spell if you make violent contact with anything. That includes attacking anyone with your sword. You mustn't think you can run amok killing shologs left, right and centre and they won't be able to see you. Chances are you'll become visible the first time you land a blow."

      The soldier nodded his understanding and took the bottle, squinting to read the tiny, crabby writing on the deeply stained label.

     They waited until full night had fallen, hoping that most of the shologs would be asleep, giving them another much needed advantage. The red sun and two of the three moon’s were in the sky, though, which meant that there was still plenty of light to be seen by. Shaun lifted his bottle and looked questioningly at Thomas. The wizard lifted his own bottle and snapped off the top, where the glass had been deliberately weakened so that the break would be clean with no sharp edges. He lifted the bottle to his mouth, the woodsman did the same, and they swallowed the contents together. The third bottle, another potion of etheriality, was tucked in Thomas' pocket, to be used later.