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      Copyright (c) 1992, 1993 Charles Tryon / All Rights Reserved
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			T h e   T o w e r s

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1:  Schimray's Tale

   The wind blew the dust from the street in little eddies around her feet
as GreyEagle stood looking up at the gaudily painted shingle hanging from
the front of the inn.  She wasn't thrilled with the looks of the place,
but the sun was setting, and she was too tired to bother looking for
something else.  "The Lucky Lady of Love."  It sounded like a delightful
place, she thought with a frown as the sign creaked back and forth in the
slight breeze.
   She shifted the satchel on her back, trying to adjust its weight to a
more comfortable position.  The dust from the streets made a gritty taste
in her mouth and stung her eyes, and the light was beginning to fade.  She
considered heading out to the mountains in the north where there were
rumors of a stronghold, but she was tired and hungry, and the enticing
smells of food being cooked lured her inside.  She decided to stay for the
night and see what tomorrow might bring.
   Entering, she stood for a while by the door, letting her eyes adjust to
the dim light.  Her grey-green cloak covered a rough suit of leather armor
and a short sword with an ornately carved hilt hung from her hip.  Her
hard eyes belied her seventeen summers.  She had arrived in the city
earlier that day along with one of the many caravans which traveled in and
out of the city of Arabel.  Her young face and small size were proving to
be a liability however, as she had tried to find work.  One after another
they had laughed in her face, telling her they wanted, "experienced
fighters, not little girls to wait on tables."  Her face still burned at
the thought.
   The commons room of the inn was the same as countless other inns she
had entered, furnished with a number of large round tables and rough
chairs.  A small, smoky fire burned in the hearth.  She spotted the
innkeeper -- a tall lanky stick of a man, but with bright laughing eyes --
and asked for a room.  After handing over the appropriate silvers, she was
given a key and lead to the stairs at the back of the main room.
   The stairs climbed to a long dimly lit hallway with rooms on either
side.  She thanked the innkeeper and handed him a couple of extra coins
for his efforts.  He smiled and assured her that supper would be served
downstairs shortly.  The man bowed slightly and hurried back down the hall
to attend to preparations for the evening meal.
   The room was small, but clean and adequately furnished with a bed, wash
stand and a small desk.  A single window faced to the west, letting in the
last red rays of the setting sun.  GreyEagle dropped her pack heavily on
the bed and sat down at the desk to catch her breath and collect her
thoughts.  She let down her waist-length braid which she had bound up at
the back of her head for traveling.  She was almost too tired to go back
downstairs for dinner, and was tempted to just stay there
   A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.  She got up to open it,
instinctively grasping the hilt of her sword.  As she opened the door a
crack, she saw the short stocky form of a dwarven warrior in heavy metal
armor standing in the hall.  He started slightly when he saw her.
   "Oh, I didn't know you were a woman.  Sorry to bother you."  He turned
to leave.
   "No, wait," GreyEagle said hurriedly.  "How can I be of assistance to
you?"
   The dwarf hesitated.  "I thought that I saw the innkeeper lead a
warrior up to this room.  Do you know who that might be?"
   GreyEagle stepped from behind the door so that the dwarf could see her
armor and sword.  "Does this answer your question?" she asked with a hint
of a smirk.
   The dwarf frowned and stroked his immense black beard as he looked at
her and the sword at her hip.  "Well," he fumbled, "I guess it is my
mistake."  He hesitated, as if trying to make up his mind.  Finally, he
shrugged.  "Ormec at your service," he said with a deep bow.  "I was
intending to invite you to dinner with us, that is, if I haven't offended
you so badly that you refuse, or you have made other arrangements"
   GreyEagle laughed.  "Have no fear, friend Ormec.  Your's is a warmer
welcome than I have received in many a fortnight.  I would be glad to
share the meal with you.  I was just getting ready to go down myself, if
you will give me just a moment."  She turned and slid her pack under the
bed.  It was not exactly secure, but it would do for now.  She slipped
into the hallway and carefully locked the door behind her.
   Back downstairs in the commons room, Ormec lead her to a table.
Another figure was already seated there with his back turned to them.  She
thought his leather armor was most curious, with every conceivable sort of
gadget sticking out of countless pockets which seemed to cover the entire
suit.  His sandy white shoulder length hair was neatly tied in back.  What
really struck her though was his size.  The dwarf Ormec was short, but
even seated she could tell that this figure was even smaller.
   They reached the table and the reason for his small size became
evident.  GreyEagle had never seen a gnome before, but she had heard of
them.  His skin was dark, but his eyes were large and bright.  He jumped
up to greet them as they rounded the other side of the table.  He too gave
GreyEagle a close examination as he saw her.  "So, are you the warrior
which Ormec told me he had seen come in?  I guess I'll have to trust his
judgement."  With that he climbed back up into his chair.  GreyEagle would
have thought he looked like a child except for the serious, weather beaten
face.  He carried a heavy shortsword at his side -- a sword which looked
almost like a longsword for the diminutive gnome.
   "Yes," she answered his question.  "And who might it be that I have the
honor of sharing this meal with?"
   "Conrad, at your service," he said without any hint of a bow.  He
continued to study her carefully.
   There was already a pitcher of heavy mead at the table, and as she sat
down, a serving girl quickly supplied her with a large mug to drink from.
She would have preferred some sort of wine to the heavy drink she thought
as she filled her mug, but it would suffice to wash the sand and grit from
her throat.  The other two heartily downed their drinks and immediately
fell to talking.  GreyEagle leaned back to listen, glad for the diversion
while she waited for the meal to be served.
   A short distance away, two men were sitting at a table together.  One
was wearing a red cape with a black dragon design embroidered on it.  His
wild black hair seemed to stream out in all directions.  He kept leering
at the ladies in the inn, but did not seem to have any success at
attracting their attention.  The other man wore an attractively
embroidered robe.  He had a heavy quarterstaff leaned up against the edge
of the table.  They talked together in hushed tones.  The one with the
dragon robe looked her direction and gave her a wink, and she returned his
look coldly.  She was not looking for the sort of companionship which she
was sure he was interested in.  He frowned and looked away.  After a
moment, he stood up from the table and went to talk with the innkeeper
about something, and GreyEagle caught her breath.  The man stood a full
head and shoulders over every other person in the inn.  The innkeeper was
tall, but this man cast an imposing figure as he towered over even him, an
impression which was only slightly marred as he tripped over the leg of a
chair as he made his way back to the table.
   Out of the corner of her eye, GreyEagle saw another young man
restlessly prowling in the shadows.  He too was taller than average,
though not nearly as tall as the first man, and seemed disproportionately
thin for his height.  A dusty grey cloak was drawn close around his
shoulders, and he wore the wide brimmed and pointed hat of wizard, flopped
carelessly to one side.  As she watched him, he ordered his ale, banging
his quarterstaff loudly against the table, but he never said a word.
GreyEagle wondered if he were a mute.  She noticed what appeared to be a
longsword hidden beneath his cloak.
   Dinner was served as she was watching the cloaked stranger, and she
turned her attention to the food in front of her.  It was steaming hot,
and tasted just as good as the smell had promised, though as hungry as she
was, she thought that week old dried crusts would have seemed like a meal
fit for a prince.  She ate hungrily, paying little heed to what was going
on around her.
   As she ate, she had a nagging sense that her every move was being
watched.  She stole a glance over at the tall one, but his attention was
turned elsewhere, so he could not have been the source of the feeling.
Conrad and Ormec were still talking away excitedly, showing no hint that
they were aware of the watching eyes.  GreyEagle scanned the room, but
there were many others crowded into the small room, and whoever was
watching them was being careful to keep his or her identity hidden.  She
shook her head, trying to shake the feeling, and turned back to the food
before her.  She even tried to join in with Conrad and Ormec's
conversation, adding a few stories of her own, but still she felt the
eyes.
   As they were finishing, she noticed a small, closely wrapped man stand
from the corner where he had been huddled.  He approached their table,
walking slowly and with a slight limp.  As he passed the table where the
two men sat, he paused for a moment, not saying a word.  He then resumed
his slow walk, approaching their table.  GreyEagle started to recoil
slightly as he preceded straight towards her.  His hood was so closely
pulled around his face that she could not even see his eyes.  He stopped a
couple of inches away from her and reached out his hand to her shoulder.
   "A drink, my beauty, and perhaps a crust of bread for old Schimray, and
in return, a tale of adventure found I could spin for you."
   GreyEagle had never considered herself a beauty, but she was still
flattered.  Perhaps it was the dim light, she thought with a smirk.  She
had already finished her meal, though there was still a small crust of
bread on her plate -- hardly fit to offer even to a stranger.
   She felt a sudden check in her heart.  She knew that there was more
behind the stranger than appeared on the exterior.  She faced a nexus,
hidden within that robe.  What she did next would change the course of her
life.  Not knowing exactly why, she suddenly stood and offered her seat to
the old man.
   "I feel it is poor manners to give one's leftovers to a stranger," she
said.  "Come, I will offer you a meal if you are hungry.  An empty stomach
is better at growling than spinning tales.  Then, we will listen." She
called to the innkeeper.  "Another meal and a loaf of your fine bread
sir!"  She remained standing next to the chair, waiting to see what the
stranger would do next.
   Schimray plopped himself down in the chair.  He turned and looked up
intently at her.  From under the folds of his hood, his eyes met hers and
she quickly diverted her gaze to the floor.
   "Pleased to meet you," the dwarf said, raising his mug to Schimray.
"Ormec at your service.  I'd be happy to buy you a tankard of ale if you
can put a smile on any of the long faces at this table with a good story."
He banged his mug on the table and one of the serving girls hurried off to
get another tankard of ale.
   The gnome scowled.  "Conrad here at your service.  I've nothing better
to do this eve."  He slid his chair back and tilted back on the legs,
resting his feet on the table.
   Schimray pulled his hood back slightly, though his eyes were still
shrouded in darkness.  "Do you intend to invite your friends over?" he
asked quietly.  Conrad and Ormec looked at each other in confusion.
   "To whom do you refer?"  Ormec asked.
   Schimray cocked his head towards the table where the two sat who
GreyEagle had noticed before.  "You would do well to make the acquaintance
of these two mages."
   Conrad frowned.  "I know enough mages I believe, thank you, but if you
are inviting them, I suppose I can let them know."  When Schimray did not
answer, the gnome shrugged and got up to go over to the other table.
After a short conversation, during which the tall mage frequently glanced
back at Schimray, the two got up and followed Conrad back to the table.
While this was going on, GreyEagle noticed the restless young man out of
the corner of her eye, standing a short distance away.  He pulled down the
brim of his tall hat so that it cast a shadow over his face and leaned
back against the wall to wait.  Schimray said nothing as the two mages
joined them at the table.  He did, however, smile at GreyEagle, and she
turned away to avoid looking at him.
   The innkeeper returned shortly with a plate heaped high with steaming
food.  Schimray accepted this with a nod and proceeded to consume it at an
incredible rate.  When he had finished, he picked up his mug and drained
it in one large gulp.  Setting it down, he stared at the empty mug until
Conrad reached over and refilled it from the pitcher.  Finally, he leaned
back, apparently satisfied.
   "I say," Schimray said, turning to GreyEagle with a toothy smile as she
stood behind him, "such a beauty as yourself should not have to stand.
Here, I have just the seat for you!"  He grabbed GreyEagle about the waist
and pulled her down on his lap.  She was caught completely by surprise,
and flopped clumsily into his lap.  "After this," Schimray whispered
loudly in her ear, "wouldn't you like to meet with me?  Ah!  Then we could
exchange some real stories."
   GreyEagle sputtered furiously, and her green eyes blazed.  The mage
with the dragon robe laughed loudly, and she could feel the blood rising
in her face.  She was about to slap him, but as Schimray gazed up into her
eyes, her heart melted.  Almost hidden behind the crusty exterior, she saw
a deep sorrow within his eyes.  She relaxed some, and patted his cheek
with a sigh.  "Perhaps we will talk about this later," she said, slipping
back to the floor, "after your tale of adventure."  Schimray ran his hand
over her back and bottom as she tried to dodge him.  She remained standing
next to the chair though, being careful not to stand too close.
   Schimray belched loudly and turned his attention back to the others.
"I thank you all for your generosity.  May it never be said that a dwarf
does not know how to welcome a guest.  And you, my lady, your generosity
is surpassed only by your beauty."  He looked slowly around at those
seated at the table and nodded to each in turn.  "I think you will do
quite nicely," he said finally.  "This then is my story."


   "Many ages ago, when the land was yet young and beings of great power
still walked among men, there was a powerful coven of mages.  Twelve to
serve and one to rule.  Each possessed a tower of great strength, far away
from the civilizations of mere men.  No one knows where the ruler lived,
but some speculated that it was not on this plane.  The `Towers of the
Twelve' as they were known, were fearsome places, rumored to be protected
by strong magics and strange creatures.  They were also rumored to be
filled with treasures beyond any mortal imagination.  Great jewels worked
into the purest platinum, mithril, and other precious metals, clothing
made of the finest silks, beautiful crystal and silver figurines,
paintings which possessed a life of their own and magics beyond the
capabilities of any mortal today."
   The tall young man which GreyEagle had seen standing in the shadows
suddenly appeared at the table, and Schimray paused.  The man silently
pulled up a stool and sat down at the table.  Schimray nodded to him as he
sat.  "I was waiting for you," he said simply.  The man nodded to
Schimray, but said nothing.  There was a long moment of silence, and
GreyEagle could hear the hushed breathing of all those at the table as
they waited to see what would happen.  Schimray simply smiled and
continued.
   "The rumor of these treasures was more than the local tyrants could
stand, and led to many an assault on the towers.  They would outfit a few
of their best knights and send them to bring back the secrets and
treasure."  Schimray smiled deviously and GreyEagle felt a shiver go down
her spine.  "Not a single attack ever succeeded.  The knights usually died
horrible deaths, and the few that lived were but mutated shells of their
former selves, having barely enough wit left to survive.  More often than
not, the masters of the towers would express their displeasure by
inflicting some sort of disaster on the land and people.  After a while,
the tyrants wearied of loosing their best fighters, and the practice
eventually died out," Schimray said with a snicker.
   "So, the towers seemed to be invincible.  The various fiefdoms around
them learned to not interfered with the towers, and those within usually
didn't bother with those around them, other than a few experiments which
the mages would occasionally conduct on peasants who were careless enough
to wander close to the towers.  It seemed to be an equitable balance of
things.  As the years passed the towers grew to be more the stuff of
legends and people began to forget them."
   "Things seemed to be going exactly the way the coven wanted, but just
when things seemed to be secure in the outside world, strife and conflict
broke out from within, and set them one against the other.  Each believed
that he was the most powerful, and should rule the others.  Great contests
of magics and strength broke out and devastated the lands around the
towers, but then they suddenly stopped, and the mages were heard from no
more.  Rumors ran wild.  Some believed that the ruler of the coven had
grown angry with his subjects and destroyed them for their prideful ways.
Others believed that he had teleported them from this plane to another,
stripping them of their power and leaving all that they had created
behind.  Others believed that they had simply destroyed each other with
their powerful magics.  Whatever story was true, it didn't matter to the
kings.  They once again sent their best knights to assault the towers, but
as before, none of them ever returned alive."  Schimray spat in disgust.
"In time, the towers passed from knowledge.  They became a thing of myths
-- stories told to scare small children.  In fact, none have ever been
found in recorded history," Schimray said with a faint smile, "or, no one
has lived long enough to report them."
   Schimray paused here to quaff another mug of ale.  "Ah," he said,
wiping his mouth on his sleeve and leaning back, "I can see by your faces
that, while you find my story fascinating, you do not understand what it
could possibly have to do with you.  Well," he said, leaning forward in
his chair again and dropping his voice to almost a whisper, "as I said,
none of the towers have ever been found.  However, my master believes that
he has discovered the location of not just one, but several of the
towers.  He is unable to take the time away from his studies to check out
each of these, so he has put the matter into my hands.  I am to find a
suitable group to check out each tower which he has identified and to find
clues as to the locations of the others."  He leaned back in his chair
again and his eyes narrowed to slits.  "I have selected you," he said
carefully.
   GreyEagle snapped her head around to look at him.  Ormec and the mages
were on the edges of their seats.  Only the gnome sat there with a smirk
on his face.
   "What is in it for you, you ask, eh?"  Schimray continued with a
snicker.  "Yes, that is what interests you."  He paused and smiled.  "Any
treasure you find within is yours to keep, but the location must be kept
absolutely secret as my master wishes to claim the towers themselves," he
added quickly.  "If that is not enough, my master is willing to pay each
of you 500 gold pieces for each tower located and mapped out.  As you
finish each tower, all you must do is return here to me to turn in your
map and I will give you information on the next tower."  He paused and
looked from face to face.
   GreyEagle began to sweat as she closed her eyes and thought of
Schimray's challenge.  She winced at the thought of fighting strange and
magical creatures.  Fighting she knew well enough -- she had spent much
time studying her shortsword, both with her father, who had been a great
enough fighter in his time, and with anyone else she had been able to find
willing to teach her.  However, magic troubled her.  The sword she carried
had powers which she did not fully understand, but it was a weak defense
against creatures of great magical powers.  She looked at the others at
the table and wondered what their strengths were.  The tall one looked as
if he was a mage of some experience, but then she had no way of knowing.
Yet, Schimray had chosen them all.  What did he know?
   She turned her attention back to Schimray.  As she looked at him, she
caught his eyes looking into hers, and he held her there for a moment.
She tried to look away, but somehow she couldn't.  For what seemed an
eternity, he probed her, and she felt like her soul was bared to him.
Finally, he released her, and she quickly looked down.  Schimray laughed.
"You have nothing to fear of the old magics," he said with a wave of the
hand.  "My master has discovered that the passing of centuries has eroded
them, and he believes that the towers will be no more dangerous than any
other deserted fortress."
   "A fine guarantee that is," Conrad grumbled.
   Schimray paused again and looked around at those seated at the table.
"For some of you, the promise of treasure may not be enough to convince
you of the importance of this task."  He glanced quickly in GreyEagle's
direction.  "For you, life is not worth living unless some good deed is to
be accomplished.  I tell you this.  In one of the towers, my master has
felt the presence of a fell creature.  He has discovered too that this
creature has taken as his prisoner a maiden, and has forced her to bear
his child.  Unless something is done, this child will be sacrificed by his
father in exchange for power.  Who knows how many times this poor maiden
will be forced into this cycle, unless the creature has mercy on her and
kills her first."
   Suddenly, Schimray rose from the table and waved his hand at the mage
with the dragon robe.  "Your name?"
   "Sucaba; Black Dragon Rider," the mage said, standing to his feet.  He
towered above the others as he stood there, and GreyEagle backed up a
step.
   Schimray raised an eyebrow slowly, and then smiled.  "Ok, black dragon
rider, I put you in charge of being spokesperson for the group.  Any
messages are to be relayed through you."  He pushed his chair back from
the table and stood rather unsteadily to his feet.  "I await your decision
on this matter."  He made his way to an empty table in a dimly lit corner
of the inn.  He was stumbling from the drinks, but he banged his mug on
the table and ordered three more.
   "This is great!"  Ormec burst in.  "500 gold pieces for a floor plan!
This will be the easiest money we've ever made.  I hope there are a lot of
rubies.  Rubies are my favorite, you know!"  His eyes were wide with
excitement.
   The mage in the embroidered robe was visibly excited.  "What more could
anyone want?  Magic, money, sites of devastation, dark creatures!  Who
knows?  We might even get a chance to do a good deed," he added
sarcastically.
   The silent one's interest in the group at the table suddenly waned.  At
some point during the story, a trio of ladies had appeared behind them,
and the mage turned to look them over.  Pushing away from the table, he
drew one close to him and is mouth went to her ear, but his face was
turned from the table.  What he said, if anything, could not be heard over
the din.  GreyEagle watched him as he left, looking for some sign of what
he might be thinking.
   "A toast!"  Sucaba said and grabbed his mug.  "To our quest together."
He quickly downed the contents and sat down.  "It is obvious we must agree
to the task," he said hurriedly.  "The reward is vast.  We must act
quickly, before this fool offers his opportunity to those less worthy."
   "Not so fast there," Conrad interrupted.  "A fine story he has told us,
to be sure, but you all actually believe it?"  He huffed.  "You would go
off on a wild goose chase on the word of this one old man filled with
drink?"
   "You don't believe him?"  Ormec asked, surprised.
   "I did not say that," Conrad shot back.  "I would just like some
details filled in."  He looked over at the form of Schimray, slumped over
the table.  "Does anyone know who this man is, or who sends him?  If these
towers do exist, a fact that I am not yet convinced of, and if these mages
were as wise and powerful as his tale speaks of, then their locations may
be important.  I don't know what these towers may contain."  He looked
over at the two mages opposite him.  "I don't even know who you are."
   "I am Trouble," the second mage answered him with a sneer.
   Conrad frowned.  "I should have guessed that, I suppose."
   Sucaba laughed again.  "Of course we must agree to go.  How can we turn
down such an offer?"
   Conrad shrugged.  "I would like to see this first tower, and then agree
if our cooperation with this benefactor can be of value to us.  I would
like to know the identity of our employer before we move to the second
tower."
   Ormec laughed.  "What do we have to worry about?  I have my axe, and
you your sword.  If we get desperate, these mages here can throw a spell
or two.  What of this dark creature?  Probably some deranged hobgoblin who
thinks it can summon the devil to do its bidding.  They are so stupid!  I
will knock its useless head off with one blow!"
   The others began to talk excitedly, but GreyEagle stood quietly by
herself for a while, her eyes closed again and her chin in her hand.  The
story of the forces within the towers still frightened her.  A dark
creature who had enslaved a maiden to bear his children.  Magics which had
defeated scores of powerful knights.  She was not sure this group looked
like it was ready to take on a task of this magnitude.  Yet, all the
others seemed like they were intent on going.  If they did, they would
need her skills.
   "I too will go," she said finally, "though I'd like a few questions
answered first."  The others stopped talking and looked up at her.
   "So, the silent lady has an opinion," sneered Sucaba.  GreyEagle glared
at him.
   "I agree with Conrad that we know precious little about just who it is
that we will be working for.  I would hate to find the location of all
this power, only to discover that we are handing it over to a force more
evil than the original mages, or even the dark creature itself!"  She
looked over at Conrad for support, since the others all seemed intoxicated
by the promise of riches and magical power.  "What use could Schimray's
master have for mapping out these towers?  He doesn't seem to want
anything we may find inside.  The vow of secrecy troubles me."
   "We should not question such a generous offer," Sucaba interrupted
sharply.
   "Would you neglect to question someone who asked you to jump from the
top of a tower for a wheelbarrow full of gold pieces?" GreyEagle shot
back, the fire in her eyes flashing.  "Have no question of my courage
Sucaba, or my determination to finish a task once started, but I am no
fool to jump into a nest of vipers without at least looking first."
   Sucaba glared back at her.  "You have heard the dwarf speak.  Surely
you have an interest in going -- you would not dare to allow this dark
creature to continue in its grasping for power."
   GreyEagle paused.  She was not responsible for the maiden's plight, but
how could she let the situation continue without even trying to
intervene.  Yet, what could they do?  "What makes Schimray so sure that
all these potent magics have just faded away," she pressed, "leaving us
more or less free to enter?  Do such things just evaporate with time, as
water from an isolated pool?"
   "What do you know of magic?"  Sucaba hissed, dismissing her with a wave
of the hand.  GreyEagle fought to control her temper.
   Conrad leaned over towards her.  "I agree with you," he said quietly,
"however, I believe that this Schimray will merely find a less honorable
group to do his work if we back down.  I believe we should accept his
offer for this first tower, and then look once again at these questions."
GreyEagle reluctantly sat down.  The gnome was right.  There was no way to
know the truth without at least going to see if the first tower did in
fact exist.
   Sucaba turned to look at the others.  "I will tell this Schimray that
we have agreed to accept his task."  With a nod to Ormec, both he and
Trouble rose from the table and moved to where Schimray was sitting.
   As she watched them leave, GreyEagle tried to assess the situation.
She looked around the table, searching deeply into the eyes of each one
there, wishing she could see into their souls.  What were their strong
points, or more important, their weak points?  She sat back.  It seemed
that they would have plenty of magic, though it was difficult to tell how
powerful.  Still, she was concerned about the small number of people who
looked like they knew how to handle a sword.  Ormec sounded like he was
brave enough, but she guessed that he was not very experienced by his
brashness, and he sounded far too interested in gold and treasures for her
liking.  Conrad sounded like he had a good head on his shoulder, but that
still only made three of them.  She looked around the room to find where
the silent one had gone.  She saw him in a dark corner, busy with the lady
friend he had picked up.  He had carried himself like a mage, but she had
seen a longsword under his cloak as he had sat down.  She had not heard
him utter a word all evening, and she wondered how he could cast spells if
he were in fact a mute.
   Her face flushed suddenly as she thought of Schimray pulling her into
his lap.  She had almost slugged him.  Did he really think she was
beautiful, or was she just a handy piece of meat?  Still, she was curious
about him.
   Her thoughts turned again to the dark creature, and she shuddered.
Ormec assumed the creature was some over-grown hobgoblin or something.
The fool!  She had seen some dark creatures, once battling a Pit Fiend,
and the memory brought a heavy darkness sweeping over her.  She shivered
as if a cold blast out of the North had just whipped through the door.
She had not been alone that time, and it was only because of the
simultaneous unleashing of the powerful magics of her companions that the
demon hadn't had time to summon an entire host of it's dark friends to
devastate that entire part of the world.  She did not wish to think about
what might have happened had they failed.  Even in the fleeting seconds
that the battle had lasted, a darkness had surged over them, clinging to
them like a shadow which refused to flee before the light of dawn.  It had
been a long time before she had recovered from that terrible fight.
   After a time, the darkness of the memory lifted, and she returned her
attention to those who were around her.  From their comments, it looked
like they were all going.  It was only a question now of how and when.  In
the mean time, she wondered if she can get some more information.  As they
waited for Sucaba to return, she reached down to her pack and started to
check through some things.
   "I wonder if anyone here knows how to open a locked and trapped door?"
she thought with a frown.


   Schimray looked up as Trouble and Sucaba approached.  After they had
spoken briefly, he rose unsteadily to his feet and returned to the table
with the two mages.  He sat down heavily in a vacant chair and smiled at
GreyEagle.
   "Come sit close to me, my beauty," he said softly to her, "and perhaps
I can answer the questions I see in your troubled eyes."  GreyEagle gave
him a dubious look, but after a pause, she decided to humor him for the
moment and sat down next to him.
   "First," Schimray continued, with his eyes still on GreyEagle, "I will
tell you more of the dark creature which you must eventually face, as it
seems to be of great interest to a number of you.  My master is not the
only one who has been studying these towers.  The maiden of which I spoke
was not only studying, but actually trying to revive some of the old
magics of the towers.  It was her hope that the tower could be used to
benefit the peoples of the lands in some way, but, as often happens to
those with good intentions, she was fooled by this creature.  She is now a
prisoner in her own tower."  Schimray sneered.  "Although she was an
accomplished mage, she was blinded by her own innocence and her desire to
help the common people."  GreyEagle frowned.  She wondered just how
innocent and unprepared this group might be.
   Schimray looked at Ormec.  "No my dwarven friend, this creature is no
overgrown orc.  It is indeed a demon from the pits of Hell.  As such it
has access to powers which no single mortal can withstand.  Although this
demon could have easily destroyed the maiden, he keeps her alive to bear
his children.  The first child was just recently born, and the demon plans
to sacrifice it to Orcus on its second birthday.  If he is allowed to do
this, the balance of power in the abyss will shift, allowing Orcus and his
minions easier access to this plane.  I do not wish to see the great death
and devastation that this would bring."
   GreyEagle closed her eyes and felt cold icicles of fear gripping her
heart.  She was not so sure she was ready to face a demon.  She shook her
head, as if trying to shake away a bad dream.  When she looked up, she saw
Sucaba leaning forward intently, his eyes fixed on Schimray.
   Schimray continued.  "My master believes that, with the hidden power of
the towers, he can lessen the power of Orcus and greatly restrict his
movements in this plane.  While my master could eventually locate the
correct tower and defeat this demon himself, to attempt to do so would
most certainly alert Orcus to his activities and defeat his purpose.
Therefore, he has instructed me to select a group such as yourselves to
search out the towers as he locates them.  You need not interfere with the
old magics if you can accomplish your mission without them.  Just remove
anything or anyone currently occupying the towers and bring back their
exact location and a floor plan.  You may keep any treasure which you
find, as my master is only interested in the towers themselves and the
possibilities of the old magics."
   "Who exactly is it that you serve?"  Conrad interrupted.
   Schimray paused and frowned.  "I cannot reveal the identity of my
master.  There are others who are interested in the possibilities of the
old magics, and might even work in cooperation with the demon itself if
offered enough power in return.  No, I cannot tell you, for to do so would
put you at as much risk as it would put him.  If word somehow got out,
there is no telling what would be done to you to make you reveal the
identity of your benefactor.  I would spare you such agony.  Especially
you my beauty."  GreyEagle looked over at Schimray to discover him gazing
at her intently.  "I would prefer to be ripped limb from limb than have
anything mar your beauty."  GreyEagle coughed.
   "I hope I have answered your questions," Schimray said, turning his
attention back to the rest of the group.  "It is getting late and you will
need an early start on the morning."  He rose from the table and held out
a hand to Greyeagle.  "A word, my lady, before we retire."
   GreyEagle rose hesitantly and took Schimray's hand.  She followed him,
more out of curiosity than anything else, not letting go of his hand as
they walked a short distance away from the others.  He stopped near the
foot of the stairs and she looked into his eyes.
   "My lady," he said quietly, "I would enjoy the pleasure of your company
this evening.  Together we could reach great heights and indeed, perhaps
even change the world.  If I am a little forward, please understand it is
only because we will soon be separated as you put your life in danger for
my master.  I am saddened at this thought but I understand it must be so.
Even if the answer is no, then do not rule me out of your thoughts and
heart.  Think of me as you journey, as I will be thinking of you always."
   GreyEagle swallowed hard.  Schimray seemed truly taken with her, though
she could not understand why.  She remembered how he had sneered at the
good will and mercy displayed by the maiden as he had told his story, and
wondered what his own motives were.  Clearly, he did not share her
priorities, or her care for the common people.  She considered too all the
drinks he had consumed that evening, though he no longer seemed to be
stumbling drunk now, and his speech was clear and true.
   Suddenly it dawned on her exactly what he was asking, and her face
flushed.  She looked down.  How could she dare?  Yet he honestly seemed to
love her, and fear for her safety.  What if she don't come back?  What if
she accepted, only to discover when she returned that he had found someone
else?  She glanced back to the table where the others were, looking for
help.  Some of them were watching the two of them with great curiosity,
and she quickly looked back at Schimray.  They would do nothing for her,
she thought angrily.  They would all just as soon take her to bed with
them as give any useful advice.
   "You... you have been most kind to us, and in particular to me," she
stammered.  She felt suddenly out of her depth, yet she was strangely
attracted to him.  He was not handsome, but he was powerfully built for
his size, and she could not deny that he held a rough fascination.  "I
would like to spend the evening with you, if you please," she said,
rushing the words out before she had a chance to reconsider.  She could at
least give him the courtesy of talking with him for a while she reasoned.
   Suddenly, the fears that she had been holding back on all that evening
burst forth on her like a flood.  "I'm scared!" she blurted out, her voice
a harsh wispier and her grip on Schimray's hands suddenly like iron.  She
closed her eyes and shivered.  Then, in the midst of the dark cloud of
uncertainty and fear, she saw a tiny point of light -- a woman holding a
small child.  With all the strength and determination she could muster,
she continued, "But I know I must go.  I cannot stand idly by and let this
happen, not while blood still flows through my veins."  Her head dropped,
and she loosened her grip.
   "That is why I have asked you to go, even though I would rather have
you stay here with me," Schimray told her.
   "But why the others?" she asked, looking back up at him.
   "What of them?"
   "Why have you selected them?"
   "You have your motives.  They have theirs.  In the end, you will all
work towards the same goal.  You cannot accomplish the task alone, can
you?"
   "No," GreyEagle hesitated.  "I just don't know if I can trust them."
She stole a glance back at the mages sitting at the table.
   "Can you even trust yourself?  Do you know how you will respond when
you reach that point?"
   "Well, no, but..."
   "But what?"
   "I don't know," she said with frustration.  It irritated her how
Schimray danced around her questions.
   Schimray smiled.  "You will handle them.  I have confidence in you."
   "How?"  GreyEagle sputtered.  "They will not even listen to me!"
   "You will learn."  GreyEagle wanted to stamp her foot, but Schimray
touched his finger to her lips.  "Enough.  I have already been a poor
gentleman keeping you standing here so long."
   GreyEagle looked up again into Schimray's face and suddenly noticed the
distinctive marks of elven blood.  "Elves...  Does true elven blood really
run in your veins?"
   Schimray cleared his throat and looked away.  "Yes."  He sighed.
   "Tell me of the elves, please!"  GreyEagle had always dreamed of the
elves.  She had heard stories of their great strength and ageless lives,
but she wasn't sure how much was truth and how much myth.
   "Yes, I will tell you of the elves," Schimray agreed hesitantly.
Suddenly, he smiled.  "Yes, come with me for a time and I will weave their
stories for you."  GreyEagle excitedly slipped back to the table to get
her things and returned to followed him, while the others looked after her
curiously.


--
Chuck Tryon
    work: bilbo@kodak.com                                Your Servant,
    home: bilbo@Bah.Rochester.NY.US                      B. Baggins
 ______________________________________________________________________
   Experience is what you get when you were expecting something else.