The Kobold's Tale: Drake's Ascension: Book Two, A Gamelit Series by Milly McAdams & JH Woods

Author:Milly McAdams & JH Woods [McAdams, Milly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Guerilla Knuckles Publishing
Published: 2019-10-31T22:00:00+00:00

13

Visions

Zebraxis stepped into Alchemist Illr’s hut and his heart felt as though it would beat straight out of his chest. He didn't want to go with the old, grizzled Heathen. And Nyck and Ryik’sha had both protested when Illr wanted to see the kobold alone.

But Dottir had reassured Zebraxis that it was okay. So, Illr had led the kobold and his wolf companion to his hut and shut the door hard behind them. Zebraxis had to fight against a chill that ran up his spine, for all he wanted to do was run far, far away.

“I’m glad you came,” Illr said, his voice old and creaking. The alchemist moved around the room, his fingers tracing the tops of various vials and jars as he walked. “Because I believe that you and I have the same goals in mind.”

“What?” Zeb asked, watching Illr with great interest. His heart and blood would not calm, but his mind was curious. What was the strange old alchemist getting at?

“You see, for years I have struggled with the idea of safety,” Illr said, coming to rest on an old woven chair. He gestured at the companion and Zeb moved to sit. “Players who come to Salt Water Marsh only have three real tasks here. They are trying to combat the Fleur de sel before it destroys their port town. And when they are not doing that, they are trying to infiltrate a sect of radical Halflings in the Far East that want to take over Tyrannisport because of some strange damn prophecy that they experienced when they drank teas made from Snake Root. And then, there’s us. They come here often to kill the Heathens of Heathentown.”

“Why?” Zeb asked, leaning forward ever so slightly in his chair. He felt Dog at his feet, and he looked down to see with surprise that the wolf had curled up and fallen asleep on the hard-packed floor. If nothing else, Dog sensed no danger here.

“Aye, see, that’s the rube,” Illr smiled sadly, “The players come here for different reasons. The healers come to raid my stores of supplies. The warriors come and they challenge Ronunsr to battle and steal his throne. And the others all come to kill Volur Kunnusta and take the hand of Dottir.”

“What?” Zeb’s mouth dropped open. Not Dottir!

The alchemist nodded solemnly.

“You see,” Illr said, looking down at his hands, “I have tried to speak with Ronunsr. I’ve urged him with as much urging as I can muster that we need to leave Heathentown. Leave, or fortify. And Ronunsr put up walls, which do no good. And yes, we use the Fleur de bomb, but it does not always work. The players get in anyway. But I cannot get the Jarl to see that we need to be doing more. We are all targeted, and every time I come back from death, my flesh prison aches with more pains than before.”

Illr looked up and Zebraxis met his gaze. And the kobold saw how old and weak and weary that the alchemist looked.

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