Dice Rolls
The night of rest in his own bed did wonders for Jaggar. He awoke to the comforting sights and sounds of his small home: the mantle piece his father carved, the scent of the forge, and the song of birds in the fruit tree outside his window. He allowed himself to lazily recline in bed a few moments before rising and dressing.
He stood in his open doorway, watching the bustling village while sipping at a cup of hot tea. Armored men and women patrolled the streets and the low stone walls, watching for any sign of attack. Children ran to and fro, carrying bundles of cloth or sacks of foodstuffs.
From his vantage, Jaggar saw Sendra marching toward him. He waved to his mentor, and the older woman nodded in return.
“Morning Jaggar,” she said. “Serene requests your presence at the longhouse.”
“Good morning Sendra. I suspected she would. Let me get my sword and we’ll be off.”
Dice Roll
Jaggar found Serene surrounded by her administrators and advisors. Serene spotted him as he walked across the room and smiled warmly in his direction. He returned her smile and stopped just outside the circle of people.
“Thank you for coming, Jaggar.”
“Of course, Chieftain. What can I do for you?”
“Scouts have reported movement in the marsh. We believe Stonetower will attack within a day.”
“Do you wish for me to be out there with our warriors?”
“No. You have sworn on Iron to retrieve our people from that awful cave. I want you to depart as soon as you are prepared to carry out that task.”
“Of course, Chieftain,” Jaggar nodded. “I shall retrieve my gear and be off within a few hours.”
“You will need something to break the chain.”
“I have a tool for that in my workshop. It will take only an hour to repair it.”
“Very good. Go swiftly and safely my friend.”
Serene once again smiled at Jaggar, who bowed to his chieftain and departed, with Sendra in tow.
Dice Roll
Outside, Sendra laid her hand on Jaggar’s shoulder. “I will be traveling with you this time.”
“You do not need to do that, Sendra.” Jaggar was grateful for her offer, but Sendra was not a young woman anymore, and he knew the trek north was fraught with risk.
“Need? No, I suppose you are correct. I am going all the same.”
The tone of her voice reminded Jaggar of when she was instructing him at the forge. It brooked no argument, nor discussion. Sendra’s mind was made, and that was all there was to it. He smiled, and held up his hands in acceptance.
“I plan to depart as soon as I’ve repaired my bolt cutters.”
“I will meet you at the gate in an hour. If you can’t repair something so simple as that within that time, I have failed as a teacher.”
Jaggar left Sendra near her home and went to his forge. Once there, he quickly set about repairing the broken cutter tool. It was a simple task, the bolt that held the two pieces of iron together needed to be replaced. If he had more time, he would have heated the iron and forged the two pieces to the bolt. Instead, he inserted a metal pin into one end of the bolt and hoped that was enough to get the job done.
Dice Rolls
The journey north was uneventful and they made great time, arriving at the knoll overlooking Stonetower within a day and a half. Jaggar and Sendra stopped for a quick meal atop the hill. Jaggar couldn’t seem to settle, and paced back and forth, his eyes frequently darting between the salt marsh below and the seemingly empty village.
“You keep pacing like that, you’ll leave a furrow in the grass,” Sendra said, clucking her tongue at her protégé.
“I do not like how quiet the village seems. I cannot even see the usual goings on. There’s no one about.”
“What good does it do you to fret about that which is out of your control?”
“It does nothing, I know,” Jaggar paused, looking down at his mentor. “I worry for our people.”
“And for Serene.”
“The chieftain is important for our people.”
“And important to you too, isn’t that right, my boy?”
“She is a friend, yes.”
“She was once more than that.”
“That was a long time ago, Sendra.”
“What is time where matters of the heart are concerned?”
Jaggar did not answer. He wasn’t sure he liked where this conversation was going, and he wasn’t prepared to deal with whatever feelings may, or may not, have floated to the surface for his chieftain.
“If we go now, we might make it back to the grove before nightfall,” he said instead.
“Let us go, then.” Sendra rose from the ground, her knees popping with the effort.
They walked without speaking, Jaggar leading the way. The ground beneath their feet was nearly white with sand. Jaggar examined the earth as he walked, looking west toward the sea and back down. He had been too preoccupied with keeping Serene safe on his last trek through this area to notice how sandy the ground was. It struck him as unnatural.
“Sendra,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “What do you make of the soil here?”
Sendra grunted and he heard her footfalls stop. He turned to see her crouched to the ground, scooping a handful of sandy soil. She placed the soil to the tip of her tongue and licked. A twisted expression overcame her normally placid face, and she spat.
“That is salt and sand.” She spat again, specks of sand flying from her mouth.
“But how? The sea is at least two miles to the west, and there are sheer cliffs not beaches. This far up the Ragged Coast the beaches are rock.”
“I do not know, but you did say this Magister possessed some kind of magic, did you not? Could this be some kind of spell?”
Jaggar shivered at the thought of someone having the power to alter the very dirt of the Ironlands. He refused to let his mind drift to what such a being could do to his people. “I do not know. Before I came to rescue Serene, I did not believe in magic at all.”
“Nor I, though there’s no explanation for this that I can think of.”
They moved on, each mulling over the question as they went. Before the sun was even an hour past its zenith, they arrived at the clearing before the cave. Jaggar took a moment to watch for guard patrols before they slipped inside and made their way to the smuggler’s cave where the villagers were kept.
The captive villagers were much as he remembered them, battered, bruised and maltreated. Empty bowls sat by the door to the cage, clear indication that at least one person was checking in on the prisoners. The scuff of his boot on the stone floor drew Vereena’s attention. Her first glance was full of anger and hatred, but it quickly smoothed into relief when she recognized Jaggar and Sendra.
“You came back,” she said through cracked lips.
“I swore on Iron,” Jaggar replied, taking the bolt cutters from his satchel. “Let me get you out of there.
Sendra, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, kept watch on the two entrances to the room while Jaggar set to work on the chain. The rusty padlock proved to be too much for the hastily repaired tool, however, and the bolt holding the two pieces of iron together snapped under the pressure. Half the bolt skittered across the floor loudly.
Jaggar cursed and tossed the broken tool to the ground in frustration.
“Weak iron,” Sendra said, clicking her tongue against the back of her teeth. “Not much you could have done about that.”
“I’ve been meaning to repair that tool for the last month. Had I gotten to it earlier, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“You cannot do what you did not do, boy. There are other ways to break a padlock.”
Dice Result
Dice Roll
Jaggar searched the room for anything he could use to break the padlock, while Sendra remained on guard. He rummaged through the crates and barrels in the small smuggler’s cave, until Sendra whispered a warning. He stopped to listen. At first, he heard nothing; then the unmistakable cadence of footsteps reverberated through the tunnel. He looked to Sendra and nodded. Both of them drew their swords and waited for the inevitable. They were caught.
What happens to our hero and his mentor? Check back next week to find out!
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