The Guardian of the Key to Time

This is the title of a mini-scenario that came with the first special edition of Imagine magazine; I think it was a pull-out from the centre of the issue. After an initial wander around various locations, it's basically a set of planned encounters in sequence, leading to an ultimate resolution. It does, though, have some really nice ideas, and can be a bit freaky. Perfect for the Young Kingdoms, then.


Ehlessa's Narrative
I wake, refreshed, but puzzled. I see my friend Marion, Sir Blanque and the Melnibonean woman - and what is Bomilcar doing here?

The others fill me in on recent events. It turns out that the story told us by those raiders is true. My father and Jorthan's are both dead, as is that nice old man Orelius, all killed in an attack on the Nikorn estate led by a powerful fire sorceror from Pan Tang by the name of Theleb K'aarna. Our warriors at the estate are all slain too. Even worse news comes in the form of Syphax, the traitor who was banished by the tribe when I was a little girl. He is in league with the blackbeard.

Most of the remaining Pikarayd warriors are herded into the basement of the holiday villa belonging to Jorthan's family. Their leader is severely wounded with at least two nasty looking slashes across his upper torso and another down one arm. Destiny rouses him for questioning, along with his second in command, who quite happily blabs all to save his rather worthless life. We now have some choices to make.

Bomilcar has taken a vicious blow to his left leg from the large two-handed maul wielded by the leader of the raiding party. My brother is rather fittingly using it now as a makeshift crutch. "It's not broken," he says, "But I won't be in a fit state for another fight."

Jorthan turns out to be quite an able interrogator, not that the sergeant or his leader are in much of a state to resist. We decide to split, really for pragmatic reasons. Bomilcar and Jorthan are to ride for his father's newly sited naval base, while the rest of us will head to the coast to a spot marked on the raiders' crude map as 'Tower Cove'. With luck, we may be able to finish off these mercenaries and capture their galley. Bomilcar will take my place at Jorthan's side for a short time; I wonder how the two of them will get on. I am pretty certain that my brother knows about Jorthan and I.

While Jorthan is questioning the raiders, I fill the others in on what happened to us. "We arrived in holiday mood and spent a leisurely couple of days setting everything in the house in order - spring cleaning, basically. We then moved into the garden, and that was when this lot turned up. We didn't have all of our equipment with us at the time, and besides there's no way we could have resisted nine of them. They gave each of us a few whacks with their club weapons to remind us of who was the boss, and then took us inside. They made me drink a very sweet liquid, and the last thing I remember is seeing Jorthan being tied to one of the beds upstairs. Then I woke up and saw you." It turns out that I was under for a good twelve hours, and there are more doses of the drug. They must have been planning on keeping me out of action while taking us to the coast. It didn't work out like that, and I thank the spirits for the arrival of Bomilcar and his new friends. Slavery on Pan Tang!

We spend the rest of the day clearing up and resting. The others have been riding hard for at least a couple of weeks, ever since leaving Karlaak by the Weeping Waste, and they need a break, especially after everything else they have been through. I shudder to think of the sight that must have greeted them at Nikorn's estate. There will be time to mourn properly later. Action is now required.

At dawn, we mount up. Jorthan speaks once more to the raiders. "There are too many of you for us to handle, and besides we have more pressing matters on our minds than you. This villa is effectively empty apart from the furniture. There is no food, and no water apart from a small natural spring in the garden. So we're going to leave you to rot. We did think about simply killing you, but there are larger players in all this. And while it's good to kill enemies such as you in the heat of combat, I will not murder unarmed men, despite what you were going to do to us." He looks at me at this point and makes a strained attempt at a smile.

He continues. "Your leader is badly hurt from several gashes, and another of your number has a slash down each arm. They are both clearly unfit for travel. It's up to you what you do with them; I care not." He leans towards them from the saddle, for added emphasis. "But know this; I will be seeking a patrol of Ilmioran horse stationed nearby, and they will arrive here in a few days' time. You can either make yourselves scarce, or surrender to them. It's up to you. Of course, your boss may well die in the meantime, but none of us could really care less." It doesn't really matter if they believe him or not; they know that are in hostile territory, this time without weapons.

We ride westwards for a couple of miles, and then comes the time to part. The others give us a little space. I place my hand against his cheek and he takes it in his. "Take care, my love" he says. A little thrill runs through me and I reply. "And you. We will meet at Tower Cove. And then we will track down and slay Syphax and this man from Pan Tang." With that, we part.

We ride for another day, which leaves us about one more, perhaps, before we make it to the sea. Up ahead, we see a crumpled, bloody heap on the ground. It is the body of a raider, badly mauled and mostly eaten. "This must be the guy Bomilcar hit in the leg with an arrow," says Sir Blanque. "I wonder where his friend is?"

The footprints of a running man are heading directly westwards, followed by the marks of four exceptionally large wolves. They must have been tracking the two fugitives from the attack on the raiders, and caught up with the wounded one first. Sir Blanque continues, "The other must have dumped his mate to try to save himself. Presumably they were trying to get to Tower Cove to warn their friends about us." I feel myself smiling grimly. "Somehow I don't think he's going to make it."

Still, something doesn't feel quite right about all of this. Even four large wolves will only attack a couple of humans out of desperation, and this is the middle of spring, not winter. Having said that, this place does feel much colder than normal for the time of the year. Marion in particular notices it, saying there's something a bit wrong about the light. She's right; even though it is now late afternoon, the sun should be brighter than this. There is a short discussion about what to do next, and we decide to press onwards before making camp. We need to make absolutely sure that the last of the raiders does not make it to Tower Cove.

Dire Wolf figures by Otherworld Miniatures

Sure enough, we hear the howls of wolves and then find his freshly slaughtered remains up ahead, being feasted upon by a group of four of the beasts, especially large specimens. One might even say, unnaturally large. The light is now very silvery, and there are signs of winter everywhere as we pass by the wolves. Best not to disturb them, and it would be good to put some distance between us and them. We ride onwards for what seems like about five miles, and then see the same sight again. "But we just passed them!" says Marion. Destiny and Sir Blanque exchange a worried look. "This smells of sorcery," she says. Something is very definitely wrong here. We try several times, but there is no way out of this strange "bubble of reality" - at least, I think that's what Destiny called it. It just keeps doubling back on itself.

We spot a hoary side trail leading off through an area of woodlands, and decide to follow it. We come across an eerie sight. A small manor house stands in the midst of a winter landscape. A reasonably large stream enters the scene, but very quickly freezes over, creating a large area of whitened swamp surrounding an island in the middle of a frozen lake. There is a boat house, covered in frosty dew. This place looks like it has been in the dead of winter for months; the ice on the lake looks so thick we could walk on it.

Marion says, "Look at the house. No, I mean really look at it." I blink and the image resolves itself more clearly - and I mean, image. Where the house should be is a floating vision of what it probably looked like, while physical evidence of an enormous cataclysm lies all around us in the form of blasted, fused and melted stonework. The image is completely unreal, such that everything above ground is insubstantial. We find an image of a twisted body, an old man wounded near to death by some unimaginable force. Near his outstretched hand is a set of stairs going down to the basement. We hobble our steppe ponies. What little wildlife there is around here, even in the form of birds, refuses to come anywhere near this place, so they'll be safe. Sir Blanque and Marion lead the way down, carrying resin torches in their left hands. After all, there is nowhere else to go...