'Tale?' the undine seems coldly amused, 'Am I some tavern wench or bawdy boat-girl to be impressed by your adventures? When I brought you here I asked questions of great import, not idle children's tales."
'As for coin." She frowns, "You will have to do better then that, young warrior."
Ashlion sense she is not really serious about being upset. After all, she rowed all this way.
Madala smiles and glances at Trilla, who seems confused by all this. 'What say you, son of earth? This man speaks for you. Does he do so as your leader or as a tyrant?"
The blacksmith seems thrown by her archaic way of speaking but says, 'Um..sure. I'll answer a question."
The river woman claps her hands together, "Then the deal is done. I shall ask mid-stream, as is proper." She halts and then turns to Ashlion, 'Not that I wouldn't mind a tale as we row."
As they pile into the boat she adds, "In any case, I should thank you young warrior. Any excuse to leave the main channels is welcome right now. The water is crowded with fools and land-lubbers due to the wedding."
With that she poles them off the bank and cuts into the deeper, faster currents.
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"Then my thanks to you as well, and we have helped each other, as friends should." Ashlion replies - matching her archaic tone point for point.
Passing the journey until mid-stream Ashlion tells a curtailed form, of his most recent story. The attempt to rescue Trilla, his capture and the battle with the undead hydra (which he describes as being killed through the combined efforts of the group). It is the pact made afterwards where he offers more details.
"If you have knowledge of these old ways, Madala of the River, then I would seek it. But first, I believe, we each owe you an answer."
Sat, cross-legged, in the bottom of the boat Ashlion withdraws his wand and attempts to use it - aiming to project an aura of unconcern.
"You do indeed." Madala says, but eyes Ashlion closely. "The old ways are deep waters, young warrior, Deep waters indeed, enough to make the river as a puddle. Do you know how to swim, young one?"
The only sound Ashlion can hear for a few moments is the river, washing against the sides of the low boat. Finally Madala breaks the silence, "Your tale was a good one. So the questions shall be easy. The same one to both of you."
'What is best in life?" the old undine asks.
Trilla looks embarrassed although it seems oreads cannot blush. The old river woman points a pale finger at him, 'Do not lie, child of the earth. Old Madala will know. Speak true."
Looking away, the blacksmith bends over and whispers in the woman's ear, too low for Ashlion to hear.
He withdraws quickly, but Madala laughs, "Really? Two at once?" When her laughter subsides, she looks back to Ashlion. "And you, young warrior?"
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"Why - three at once!" Ashlion replies with a grin, before sobering up. "To fly. To rise above clouds and earth and to be alone, far beyond the wars, hatreds and lies of mortality. To fly is to be one of the gods - beyond time and space itself." His voice is reflective now. "Swimming in the deep is similar I think - but for myself - to fly."
Madala seems surprised by this answer and she says in reply, 'So one who enjoys freedom above all else, ties himself to the city? Places a burden as heavy as a mountain on his shoulders?"
Then she points a finer at Ashlion, "Do not speak so idly of the old gods, young warrior. judging by your tale, your fate is now linked to theirs and you may not find them as tractable as you wish."
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"What one wishes for is not always what one receives." Ashlion counters, years of double-speaking temple gurus having prepared him for this moment. "This river winds where it wills Madala. We can no more control it's path than we can control the movements of the heavens, or a man can control a woman's ability to spend money. We can ride it, make use of it for our own purposes, but we cannot own the river. I believe what is best would be to be the river - free to do as it pleases, when it pleases and where. But I am not a river, and I know this. So although I may fly, I may soar among the stars I know I am a man, not a god, and as a man I have duties - the responsibility to protect the lives of others"
He smiles slightly, trying to lighten the tension. "I jest Madala, not because I disrespect the gods, I respect them all too much. But a man must laugh - or else he shall weep, and that never gets anything done!"
Madala grunts and leans over her pole. Ashlion has the feeling that the old undine doesn't really believe in laughing, except to by cryptic and mysterious.
A long time passes in silence, with the only sound being that of the river. The slapping of water on the hull, the whine of flying insects, the calling of distant birds. Above all the quiet but powerful sense of rushing water, untold tons of it, the river itself.
Finally, Madala says, 'So, you seek the old gods?"
"Is not an old woman allowed to ask questions?" She says grumpily, heaving hard at the tiller, shaking them all. Then she adds, 'It is no every day one sees such a great fool as you."
"You think the Old Gods are an idle fancy? You think they will be happy to have a young braggart like you bothering them? They have slept long and deep but...no longer. I have felt a change in the air, a taste in the water....they are waking. Men should tremble...It has been long since they have dealt with such power in their midst."
In his mind Lisk sounds more philosophical then usual, And what else can the mouse do when fearful of the hawk?
As they row out into the stream Trilla, looking to ease the tension says, "You spoke of a wedding? Whose?" The blacksmith obviously doesn't care but wants to change the subject.
Madala grunts and nods her head. In the distance, downstream between the two living parts of the city, Ashlion can see many boats, barges and other vessels in midstream. Many of them seem at anchor while smaller ones dart around, like insects.
'Lady Delvkia' The old undine says, scorn in her voice, 'Is getting married. She wishes to have it done on the river. I cannot think of a worse omen. Sealing a marriage on a turbulent and treacherous river? I'd watch that woman, if I were the groom."
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"She is a woman that deserves watching." Ashlion muses, "Who is she to wed? From what I know she arrived here scant days ago? Has she found a husband so quickly or is it pre-arranged?"
He can't help the flicker of interest, and the perhaps slightly cruel impulse to observe the wedding from a distance. The woman is not worth that much of his time however...
I know Lisk I know. I need to concentrate.
From Delvkia his thoughts flow to Raj Sambaru, now there was a man after my own heart!
'It was arranged." Madala says, easing the boat into a powerful current that pushes them toward the non-human side of the city. They skirt the busy wedding preparations with plenty of room to spare. This appears to be a wise choice as many boats full of guards and bully boys clog the stream, keeping away would be onlookers, thieves and trouble makers.
"Some merchant princeling. A weakling by what the rumors says but are not all humans weak, in their way?"
They reach the Other Side without further incident. The dockside seems busy and everyone is talking about the upcoming wedding. While it is unlikely any but the very elite of non-humans will be attending, it is the social event of the season. People gossip about the beuty of the bride and the wealth of the groom. Feelings on having the wedding on a river are mixed with some agreeing with Mandala of bad omens while others simply think it will make for a spectacular event.
Ashlion departs from Trilla after good byes and promises to maybe meet up later. The oread seems anxious to get back to his work however.
Back in the city, Ashlion decides he needs to go shopping. Whatever is going to happens will probably be dangerous, unexpected and violent. Having magical advantages will be a key part of survival. Lisk scoffs at such reasoning but Ashlion knows the value of preparation. The mindblade spends the night in a quiet temple before heading out into the bustling city the next day.
Ashlion heads into a busy market bazaar, looking for tanglefoot bags. The press of people is overwhelming, overpowering and famaialir. Vudran loves crowds in their marketplaces, and the complex web of brightly colored stalls is jammed so tight that Ashlion can barely move. Lisk is forced to the sky or rooftops to avoid crushing anyone.
The sound if full of yells, laughter, catcalls, arguments, haggling and stall owners shouting out their wares. Ashlion passes stalls for cutlery, live animals, books, jewelry, furniture, vegetables, magical items, fresh fish, candles, anything he could think of. As he wades through, it helps he is taller then most.
Then, as he passes a area that is mostly filled of sellers of coal, firewood and oil, he smells it. Smoke. Not the fragrant usual cooking smoke or the burning incense. Heavy, noxious smoke that tells Ashlion one thing.
Uncontrolled Fire.
Glancing around he sees it, a plume of dark black smoke coming from just behind one of the coal stalls. So far no one else has reacted yet, but they soon will and panic will erupt. In a tightly packed market like this....
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this could be a a disaster!
Ashlion curses under his breath - putting out fires was not in his skill set. Starting them on the other hand...
With few other options Ashlion pushes his way past the coal stall as his hand begins to glow a chilling white-blue. Coming across the fire he winces premeptively and thrusts his enchanted hand into the flames - trying to scatter the fuel.
Ashlion shoves his hand into the burning coals. There is a flash of scalding pain which is doused by the rush of magic to his hand. Protected by this aura of power, Ashlion dampens the flames and scatters the hot coals around him.
In from behind the stall owner grabs a bucket of wet sand (clearly saved for such an event) and pours them onto the burning coal. There is a brief sizzle and then all is quiet. The stall owner, a portly man missing most of his teeth frowns in confusion.
'But where did the spark come from?"
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Ashlion hisses at the rush of hot, then cold and cradles his hand as he turns to the store owner. "I do not know. I smelt the smoke rather than seeing the fire. Do you have an enemy that might wish you or your business harm?" He looks around, trying to see if there are any sources of sparks nearby. "Could someone have caused it by accident? Another stall?"
There are no sources of sparks. Indeed, as becomes clear,t he place is designed to avoid any such problems. The stall owner looks confused, "Enemies? No, besides, who would be fool enough to start a fire here? They'd end up..."
The rest of his words are broken off as screams and shouts rise from the trading square outside.
'Fire! Fire!"
Looking out, Ashlion can see a rug vendor's wares up in flames, a dancing sheet of roiling fire, swirling up into the bright morning sky, reaching out for other sources of fuel. People run in panic in a confusing chaos, trampling each other without care.
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"Damnit!" Ashlion mutters, before pushing his way against the fleeing crowd. "Get out! Flee! Move away from the fire, fast as you can!" He roars, trying to spur the gawkers into action.
Lisk - we need buckets - anything that might hold water!
Ashlion tries to assess the nearby stalls - which ones are most likely to carry the flames, a fire break will be needed!
Lisk hisses in his mind, Buckets? You send a dragon to find buckets? But flies off anyway, obviously on the search, gliding low over the panicking crowd. For one the sight of a dragon doesn't elicit much attention, most are focused on avoiding the growing blaze.
Ashlion scans the nearest stalls. There are a number of them wedged close by. Some seem rather low risk, such as a butcher's shop and a fishmonger. However, there is a ragman's tent as well as a book stall nearby. Worst of all, at the end of the line is an alchemist shop!
The crowd grows more and roe restless as they push in an attempt to escape the flames. Just holding his own takes all of Ashlion's considerable strength, let alone pushing forward more. Already the mindblade can hear the screams of those in pain.
Ashlion roars orders but the crowd is too far gone. Only a few brave souls pitch in and Ashlion has a feeling they will flee if the going gets too rough. The mindblade leads in destroying the fabric stall throwing priceless silks and linens everywhere. The owner must have fled because no one even tries to stop him. Or maybe Ashlion is just that imposing.
Off tot he side the fire grows, fully devouring the first shopkeeper stall. The flames seem to writhe and twists like a thousands red snakes, curling and reaching out for more fuel. Ashlion does his best to deprive it but the bazaar is packed with goods and people.
Shortly Lisk returns carrying what appears to be two small wheelbarrows.
Best I could find. I am not a retriever. The young dragons still sounds a bit miffed to be given such a mundane task.
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Ashlion does what he can, but it quickly becomes apparent that he is fighting a losing battle.
"Get back! Get back!" He calls, still trying his best to make a firebreak as best he can before pulling back himself. Nothing we could do Lisk... circle up and see if there's anyone paying more attention than the rest, trying to get a trophy - that sort of thing...
Ashlion helps hurry back the people and he probably saves the life of a few of those too small or too weak to fight the tumult of humanity. With Lisk circling above the plume of smoke, it doesnt take long for various citizens to arrive to help fight the fire. While the Other Side (lacking the real wealth of the Human Side) doesn't have a dedicated fire service, there is a core of reliable citizens called upon. Ashlion notes several ifirts among them, far more at home in fire then the others.
Ashlion hears from more then a few, marveling at the size and intensity of the flames, which is far more then normal. Even worse, Ashlion hears this isn't even the first fire today, although it is the largest. Something is going on.
Then, he spots a rough looking gang of figures moving in the smoky shadow of the fire, going through buildings with an eye to valuables items left behind. Looters. They looked armed and hungry.
The bandits look up, startled. So far no one has been paying them attention. One look at Ashlion is enough for them to dart into the wreathing smoke and flames, still clutching various ill gotten gains.
Ashlion helps contain the fire and with his help, only about 1/3 of the market is lost. It is clear without his quick action, things would have been much worse. As he watches the various 'fire fighters' sweep ashes and dust into piles for later removal, the mindblade reflects on things.
This was more then the usual accident. The starting of several fires at once, the timing, the ferocity of the flames...something larger was happening here, a dark shape in the background. Was this part of his charge to take care of the city?
You are troubled? Lisk asks in the hollow of his mind.
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This fire was too large, too sudden, too fast. Ashlion responds. Almost as if something was setting the fires - almost... Even in the safety of his own head he pauses something like a dragon..."
With this troubling thought in mind Ashlion sets to gathering information, trying to find out what has gone on and whether he might deduce a larger picture from it.
Ashlion moves among the people as the market slowly comes back to life. What he hears, worries him. There have been a number of fires today, ferocious ones like this, some wiping out whole city blocks. While dozens of theories are swapped, there is no hard information. No arsonists captured, no grudges that tie the sights together, nothing like that. The weather is warm and wet like usual, not a drought.
Ashlion also hears that the formal wedding is still on for tomorrow, being held mid-river. Many view this as a wise move as a fire is less likely to jump into the huge watercourse.
Ashlion is soon plunged into a web of myths, folklore, outright lies and whispered secrets.
At first everyone merely laughs at him and says the dragons have been dead for millennia. The real dragons anyway, when they notice Lisk lounging around. Stories about their time are chaotic and fragmented, little more then doggerels.
As he digs in though, he finds items of more substance. There are bare whispers that the dragons may not be completely gone, that shadows of their power are still awake in the world. While humans drove them from this Plane, they did not all die...or so these whispers go. But tracking down locations is impossible. Everywhere and nowhere are mentioned at length.
Finally, he gets a lead on a so called 'dragon expert' who lives in a tumble down old tower on the edge of the City. A Sylph Vasaam. His informant notes the expert is very old, very eccentric and very prickly. As Ashlion knows from his days in the Temple, hardly out of the ordinary for weird academics who live apart from society. At least he has a known address.
Ashlion is not architect or historian but it is obvious even to him that Bandaramahla is an old city. It is also evident that the non-human side of the city is the older, dotted with ancient crumbling buildings that date back centuries. Ashlion follows his vague directions to the northern part of the city, towards where the rivers meet.
Finally he finds what he is looking for, a section of what must have once been the city wall. Three crumbling round towers, connected by a ramshackle wall. While it would have been impressive newly built, centuries of wind and rain had treated it poorly. Stones were falling out of their mortar, the wall was warped and bent, and even the towers lean drunkenly toward the river.
The city itself has long surged out past this old boundaries, and the crumbling ruin is surrounded on all sides by houses, shops and warehouses. It surprises Ashlion that no one has knocked this down to make room but perhaps even the locals have some respect for the past?
Lisk agrees and flies off into the air, gold wings stretched against the sun. Glittering, he swirls upwards, circling the crumbling ruins like a vulture looking for carrion, although the dragon would be outraged by the comparison.
Ashlion himself plunges into the ruins at ground level. The walls and towers show signs of human visits, as various city dwellers come and go, taking worked stones and other resources. Nature too has arrived here, as low trees and bushes cover every surface, prying apart old stones and overlying the ancient roads. Small dirt paths wind between battered tree trunks, and Ashlion follows them, carefully stepping over shattered pots or isolated stones.
It is strange to be in such a 'wild' place and yet hear road traffic from just a few hundred feet away. He soon reaches the bases of one of the old towers. The ancient wooden door is gone, replaced by piles of stone. Scrawled in peeling paint on the stone are the words 'Go Away' in a dozen tongues, including to Ashlion's surprise, Draconic. The piles of stone look rather new and fresh.
Ashlion's voice echoes off the weathered and watchful stones. No call or reply answers him, just the empty silence of the waiting trees. From high above Lisk says, There are signs of life here. Soot from fires and moves stones...but I see no man. Your rabbit hides from us?