Destiny in Freeport

By Fippy

The journey to Freeport from Halas was not at all as Borodak had expected. Talking to fellows in the inn - peoples from far off lands of which he had never heard - it appeared that Freeport was on the opposite side of the continent, and a very long trek. Furthermore, it was a journey fraught with danger and bizarre and aggressive creatures. "Too perilous a journey for such an inexperienced shaman as he," they told him.

Upon asking a friendly High Elf, "How long a run is Freeport from here?" the whole table laughed. "A month, maybe more." replied the elf. "I don't see the fascination in one so young." He poked a meat-greased finger at Borodak. "It's not like yer quaint lil village here," he laughed.

Borodak drank his ale and thought hard. Halas was his home, but he could not ignore his dream. It had seemed more than a dream, somehow his destiny. The girl was beautiful and the promise of love, companionship and adventure was too great to resist. He dared not voice any of that of course. No. He began to think of the journey as a test of manhood, surely more meaningful than the bear hunt each spring that made boys into men. Ha. He had slaughtered so many bears today; all the fingers on all the hands in the inn wouldn't count them!

The following morning, he rose into the chill air, damp from overnight snow. Gathering his meager belongings and his treasured mace of bronze, he stepped from the inn and into the untrodden snow. He crunched his way to the ferry, scratching frost from his beard and watching the sun blaze onto the mountaintops.

He slipped the ferryman a silver coin, and was on the other side of Halas Pond before any of his drinking pals had even woken. Ignoring the distractions of his favourite hunt - spiders and bears - he paced himself through the valleys of EverFrost; boots crunching and mace clinking at his belt. The weak sun rose high enough for a little warmth to reach the bottom of the valleys, but Borodak was warm enough from his exertions. Well accustomed to running in snow, he did not stop once on the two hour run to the gnoll cave.

Two scrawny-looking gnolls stood guard to the tunnel that ran through the mountain to their lair. He could smell them upwind of him, but they were too busy yapping and growling to each other. He nodded thoughtfully and slipped his mace into his right hand. With his left, he pulled his crude necklace from out of his tunic. His fingers traced the familiar runes and symbols carved into it. A few choice words and he pointed his mace at the gnolls. A blaze of blue erupted over them, followed by magical, icy strands assailing their furry bodies.

They yelped and clawed at their fur, which was now iced over, and at last spotted Borodak down the slope. Barking furiously they charged him, side by side, swords ready. Frozen from his spell, they were no match for his strength and size. In moments they lay at his feet, bones smashed, fur a bloody red. He wiped his weapon on their corpses and continued on into the cave.

It was late into the afternoon when he emerged from BlackBurrow, through the sinister looking cave, shaped like a gnoll's maw. The air here was warmer than in EverFrost, and he pulled up short at the total lack of snow. Everywhere around him was green - the grass, the trees, the hills. Only the very top of the highest hills had a sprinkling of snow. He squatted on an uprooted tree trunk and rested for a while, before deciding it best to reach Qeynos before nightfall, still an hour or two's run away. A fellow Halatian directed him to the road, which, he said, lay "two hills yonder". Borodak waved his thanks and started up the nearest hill.

He reached the road without incident, marveling at some of the creatures seen along the way. Huge red beetles scuttled here and there, making clicking noises with their mandibles. Long, green snakes frequently slithered across the road in front of him. Neither looked dangerous, but he kept a wary eye out for the skeletons that were said to waylay travelers between dusk and dawn. At last, a giant obelisk loomed out of the darkening sky and he stopped to read the words imprinted on it, the common runes used throughout Qeynos and Halas. One road led to Karana and the other to Qeynos. He picked up the pace - the sun low over the grassy plains.

It was full dark when he wearily passed through the gates into the grand city of Qeynos. Even his sense of wonder was dulled by his tiredness. It had been a long day with more traveling than he had ever done. He slipped into the first inn he happened across and gladly paid the inflated rate for a room. Sleep came easily.

Waking to the rich aroma of stew and fresh baked bread, he washed, dressed and took his place in the bar for breakfast. With the exception of a single sour-looking gnome sorcerer, everyone around him was human, and probably local. The talk was certainly mundane and clearly about life and politics in the city. Opting not to attempt conversation with the gnome, he worked his way through a whole loaf and two bowls of stew and listened to anything that caught his ear.

He decided to spend a couple of days in the city. Certainly the lucidity of his dream never lessened his desire to reach Freeport, but he couldn't help but revel in the new places and people on the way. Was there any urgency or time frame that he must reach the docks of Freeport? He sensed a clock ticking somewhere in the back of his mind, but his instinct told him that he would meet the beautiful Wood Elf come what may.

Qeynos by day was almost more than he could bear. He simply wasn't prepared for its immensity, its streets, its choice of stores and buildings; everything new and so different from home. On the first day he stayed fairly close to the inn, spending the whole morning wandering from street to street and store to store, talking to anyone who took the time to return the favour. Everyone seemed to live at such a fast pace. In the afternoon he ventured out of the great West Gate and into the small groves of trees that surrounded the city. Looking back, he shook his head in wonder, seeing that the city wall ran as far as he could see in both directions. If he stayed here a year he would never explore this place!

The morning of the third day was warm and clear. Borodak was very relieved to leave the mass of brick and stone, and muddy streets behind, to be once more alone in the wilderness. The road was empty of travelers bar a single caravan of wagons and a trio of adventurers like himself. Upon reaching the obelisk road marker he veered right. The paved road wound up into the hills towards a distant guard tower. Now he truly felt like his adventure had begun. An entire continent lay between him and Freeport, and the girl he was destined to meet!

That day he followed the road up into the hills, past the guard post and into a narrow winding valley. Its sides were steep and rocky, but it formed the only pass between the hills of Qeynos and the open plains of Karana. After a whole day's trek with no companionship, he gratefully accepted an offer from a group of dwarves to share their camp for the night. They pitched tents in the shelter of giant boulders, rocks that had surely fallen from these hills during the battle of the giants, ages ago. The night grew cold, and the wind colder, but they warmed themselves with a fire, ale and raucous jokes. Borodak found the Dwarven accent rough and hard to comprehend, but the jokes they told, accompanied by wild gestures, were universally understood.

With the morning came an icy dew, but the revitalising chill felt good to Borodak. The sun was playing along the summits of the peaks above, and it would be some time before its rays reached the road down on the valley floor. The dwarves elected to sleep in, so he made his farewells and set out along the road.

The road reached its highest point, just around midday, and turned downwards again. Borodak picked up his pace into an easy lope, casually jumping over boulders and old tree stumps. He had been told that Karana covered almost the entire interior of the continent, and he was eager to make progress. Even so, he was not prepared for the site that beheld him, as he rounded an innocuous bend in the road. The valley ahead straightened out into a dizzying cut through the mountain straight down to the plains below. He stopped to marvel the sight. It appeared a long way down the valley, but experience told him that it was likely at least twice as long as it looked. And the plains - they went on as far as his eyes could see; still green and tree-covered at the point the haze met the horizon. It made the plains of EverFrost look like a farmer's field.

It took the rest of the day for him to descend to that plain. The road was clear for the most part, though in need of repair, so he found himself running most of the way. After a while, a couple of specs appeared on the road where it emerged from the valley out onto the flat grasslands. All afternoon the specs grew larger and larger until finally recognisable as a pair of wagons camped by a well. He made out horses and people too, until the onset of twilight reduced the camp to a couple of flickering torch flames.

Knowing he would come into their camp a couple of hours after darkness, he decided not to disturb them, and made his camp in the foothills. A pair of exposed tree roots formed a perfect bed. With his mace in his hands, he lay back and was soon asleep.

The caravan had moved on when he awoke, later than usual. It had been a deep, reviving sleep though, and he did not resent the loss of a couple of hours of daylight. He continued downhill to the well they had camped at, and halted to wash in the freezing water, and refill his water sack.

The road headed due east out onto the plain, but a less trodden one veered off to the right. On the hill beyond, stood another of the stark, simply constructed Qeynos watchtowers. The advice in Qeynos had been to forsake the main Karana road in favour of the river route. It was longer but apparently much safer, many going so far as to say that for an inexperienced traveler to walk the main road alone, was suicide. Grinning at their eagerness to scare him, he turned along the road that led to the river.

It took four days for Borodak to cross the Plains of West Karana. Three long days spent running along the muddy banks of an immense river. He came to loathe the sheer openness and uniformity of the land. In a day he saw no more than a couple of farmer's cottages or barns, high up out of the reach of floods, but not once did he set eyes on a fellow traveler or even a farmer tilling his fields. He had never felt so alone.

Creatures were more plentiful. On more than one occasion he had been waylaid by a brown bear. Though a stronger cousin than the polar bears of his homeland, they were still no match for his honed skills. Huge spiders, the size of wagons, crawled amongst the bushes, but if he kept his distance they showed him no interest. The only creature that actually got to hurt him was a lion. It had sprung from bushes as he paused for lunch on the second day. It had taken all of his strength to defeat it, and he still came away with some deep scratches in his leg and torso. Washing and bandaging his wounds as best he could, he resorted to using his healing magic to prevent infection and speed the mending.

His wounds slowed him down, but his Shaman-Master had taught him with a dedication matched only by his passion as a student. So long as he refreshed the magics cast upon his body, the wounds would heal nicely and even the scarring would fade within a short time.

In the late afternoon of his third day on the plains, a thick fog drifted in off the river. He ran the shoreline, being the only landmark visible. Everything beyond a couple of arms lengths from his face faded into grey. The air was still and the water bore hardly a ripple. It was an eerie situation. Borodak hoped that he didn't run full length into a creature drinking at the riverbank - he certainly would not see it before it was too late.

He camped early that night. To travel in the fog at night would be foolhardy. Though the kindling was damp, a carefully controlled burst of fire from his palms brought to life a warm and heartening fire. It didn't burn all night, but long enough to take the damp from his bones.

He woke to find the fog still enshrouding his camp, albeit thinner than before. After tending to his leg, sore from the damp and constant running, he set out at a slower pace to the East, a little weary at the enormous distance he still had to cover. That fourth day passed without incident. The fog thinned but seemed determined to hang along the riverside. Borodak contemplated cutting inland with the hopes of escaping the damp tendrils of fog, but he felt safer here, and didn't want to run clear past the bridge he was told to look for.

The sun was low in the sky when a spark of golden light ahead caught his eye. In the distance, a huge claw like construction pierced the top of the fog, burning a fiery gold in the light of the dieing sun. Intrigued, he watched it grow in size as he approached, until he could distinguish four distinct claws soaring into the sky, forming the pattern of a square. Their base was enshrouded in fog, but they were easily the highest structure he had ever seen, even higher than the huge statues littering the wastes of Everfrost. Who could have made them and what they were for, he had no idea.

Then he emerged into a clear pocket in the fog and marveled at what lay just ahead. To his left soared the four claws, standing on a slope running down to the river. A road ran down between them to a keep-like structure that formed the gateway to a gargantuan stone bridge that stuck proudly out into the river. The far bank was obscured in fog that formed an eerie gray, misty barrier in the centre of the bridge. It came as a surprise to him to see so much granite stonework after days of endless grass and trees. The base of the bridge-keep was open and provided shelter from the elements. A stone staircase led up to another floor, and two armoured guards with halberds flanked the wide arch to the bridge proper.

"Which way lies the road to Freeport?" he asked them. He had to ask twice more before they answered. Each time he took a step closer.

"East along the shore." said one. "South over yon bridge." said the other.

"Two ways?" queried Borodak. "Which is the shortest?"

"Bridge" said the second again. "The road north." said the first.

Borodak scowled. The sun had already set and he merely wanted to sleep with the knowledge of the next leg of his journey. Further questioning didn't make things any clearer, until he finally caught the little winks the guards were shooting each other. "So be it." he growled and headed back to the entrance. He peered out into the gloom, broken only by the flickering of a fire up the slope, beneath the gargantuan claws.

He followed the road up to the claws, which up close, he realised were constructed of marble. Hunched beneath one were five unlikely looking souls, warming their hands, bodies and butts by the fire. The dark-skinned, shifty one he knew was a dark elf, though ne had never before seen one in the flesh. Next to him sat a human, some kind of wizard or mage by the looks of him. The wizard was talking to a tiny little dwarf of a man, with a pointy nose and funny bald head. On the other side of the fire stood a human female, decked out in the armour of Erollisi, and one of his own people, a huge warrior figure, a whole head taller than Borodak.

"Cold night." he said to them all, not that it felt very cold to him in his leathers and furs.

"Aye". "Bitterly." "Join us." came the replies.

Nodding his thanks, he squatted down beside the warrior couple. "I'm looking for the road to Freeport."

"That's a long journey, Barbarian." "This is it." "Not worth the trip." they said.

"Aye." he mused. "It would help to know the way. For the next few days at least."

None answered him, until at last the human wizard completed his hushed conversation with the little bald man. "I can get you there, Barbarian." he grinned.

Borodak nodded. "I'll not trouble you for an escort, but company on the way would be welcome."

"I know a short cut." said the wizard. He said something to the group that Borodak didn't understand. The Dark Elf laughed, a rough, mocking sound. The little man grinned a toothless smile and slapped the human on the leg jovially.

"I could use a short cut." Borodak replied, unperturbed.

The wizard stood up. "Then let's leave at once." He brushed his robe down, grinning all the while.

The wizard laughed and stepped into the darkness, moving a few feet beyond the rough road. The other Barbarian clapped Borodak on the shoulder. "We are heading your way too. Trust Miharn," he nodded his head toward the wizard who was leafing through a hefty tome. "He knows what he is doing."

Borodak followed the Barbarian and his woman over to the wizard. Returning his book to a pack, the man peered up at the claws towering above them, shuffling about as he did so. It seemed to Borodak that he took great care to position himself at dead centre of the four claws.

"Move in close." Barked the wizard. Borodak followed the others' lead, and the three of them stood in a circle around the wizard, who began to chant, loud and clear as if trying to alert everyone in the Karanas. The words he bellowed made no sense to Borodak, and probably weren't even in any modern language. Blue fire sparkled around the human's head - sparkling baubles of blue with yellow lightning within. Borodak sensed the mana flow in his head, and felt his flesh tingle with the power, until the entire group was surrounded, bound together, with a mesh of blue lightning and sparkling globes. The world around him went bright white - just for an instant.

The first thing he felt was searing heat - a scalding hot wind on his body, and so dry, as if the moisture had been sucked out of him. He looked about him. The other three were exactly where they had been a moment before, but Karana wasn't. In place of the grass, the road, the claws and the dark trees; there was a stone platform, dunes of sand and dark mountains and rock formations in the distance.

The Barbarian clapped him on the back and laughed. "First teleport, huh? Ha! Welcome to North Ro, my friend."

"The Desert of Ro." Borodak murmured, almost in disbelief. He nodded and continued to look around, eyes watering in the heat. He removed his polar bear headpiece and jacket, but still he sweated. They stood on a cobbled platform raised a man's height above the desert. Its stones radiated an eerie glow that lit up the sand in all directions. He watched huge, blue beetles and long-tailed insects scurry across the sands.

The wizard was accepting coins from the warrior couple. Borodak dug into his half-empty belt pouch. The wizard stopped him. "No fee." he smiled. "Not on your maiden voyage."

Borodak nodded respectfully. "Thank you. The gift of travel is a great one. I will remember it, Miharn." The wizard bowed in return.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and peered around him once more. "That way." The barbarian pointed to the south and west of a huge rock pillar looming in the moonlight. Thanking everyone once again, Borodak stepped down off the platform and headed in the indicated direction. His pace was slow in the shifting sand and he found it impossible to run, although he saw others nearby that had learned how to do so. He was content with his progress, however. At the top of a huge rise, he looked back to the eerie glow of the platform he had arrived on, and descended into a deep valley between the sand dunes. A huge beetle, larger than an entire family of polar bears, ambled by. The only creatures that did express an interest in him were large rattlesnakes and a pack of coyotes. A few warning swings from his mace kept them at more than arm's distance.

An hour went by, and then a second. Finally, he scrambled to the top of a sand dune to find only flat grassland beyond, scattered with palm trees. He was not upset to leave the tiring sands behind, and set off at a faster pace towards the lantern light that sparkled in the distance along a sandy path. Several buildings clustered together formed a rundown Inn. There he caught up with a tinker and his wagon of assorted junk and scrap.

"A hot and dusty evening to you, tinker." he called out as he came along side. "Know you how far we are from Freeport?"

The tinker grinned, a mouthful of rotten teeth. "Less than an hour on foot, big man. Just keep the moon on your left cheek."

Borodak glanced to the sky and peered along the southbound track. With a wave, he pulled ahead of the crawling wagon. The track vanished when the grass gave way to a dry and dusty plain, nothing growing on its baked, scorched surface, except for a few resilient cacti. He shook his head once more at the strangeness of this place. A light breeze blew the dust into whirling dervishes that roamed across the ground. Pausing only to moisten his lips and throat from his water sack, Borodak continued, careful to maintain his heading.

At long last, just as his wound-aching leg was becoming more tiresome, a long black shape appeared on the horizon; a shape that grew and grew as he approached. The city wall! With renewed vigor, he pushed the aching and thirst from his mind and moved ever closer to the huge arch that had formed in the middle of the wall. The guards said nothing, and soon he was out of the desert and within the walls of Freeport! Celebration, exploration, and even the woman of his dreams, could wait for the morrow. For now all he wanted was supper, a tub and a bed.

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