Cat Core, Chapter 7.

Chapter 7.

“Matron of the initiates, you are summoned to the scrying chamber,” the young page said, handing her a scroll with the seal of the knight commander. With a sigh, she closed the tome she had been reading. The library inside the Brilliant Keep was her favorite place to find some solitude amid her busy day. Standing, Matron felt all the aches and pains that were the result of a lifetime of questing in service to the light. Those pains were becoming harder and harder to ignore, the specter of age stalked her, and age always took its prey.

While age may be slowly sapping the vitality from her body, her enthusiasm to serve overcame simple discomfort. If she had been summoned for a quest, it meant that despite her age, the light still had use for her. Sad would the day be when the summons no longer came and her usefulness in active duty came to an end. Continued service would still be there for her, but the duties assigned would no longer see her in the fray, trading blows with the foe. Even now, her position as Matron of the Initiates was one that saw her teaching and instructing the new supplicants to the order, getting into the fight only if they needed her support.

A smile crossed her normally dour features as she thought of her latest charges. This group of aspiring adventurers might be her last, but they had more promise than any of the others she had worked with. Should this summons be for the reason she expected, they would have an opportunity to test their limits and grow in power. If this were to be her last quest, let it be one that made a difference.

Leaving the tome with one of the library attendants to keep for her return, Matron descended into the basement levels of the keep where the Seer plied his trade. She asked years ago why the Seer chose such a dark and foreboding location for his work. He simply replied that all those who inhabited this keep served the light, but to understand the light you often had to face the darkness. She never learned the seer’s name, he never offered, and she never asked. Just as with her own name, it was gone, and her duty, her calling, was all that remained. Matron, she was to her charges, so Matron she would be to all that followed the path.

“You summoned me?” Matron asked. The seer didn’t even look up as she entered his room, all his focus was on a single candle atop the table he was seated at. Darkness covered the chamber, pierced only by this one sliver of light.

“Ah, yes my dear, but summoned is perhaps the wrong term. Requested your presence would be more accurate. How are your initiates developing?” The seer asked, reluctantly pulling his gaze from the flame to look at her.

“Well enough, the mages show some promise and could achieve great things if they would ever stop bickering. The rogue is skillful, but foolish, lacking any form of caution. We still need to find them a healer, and I’m still puzzled why none of the clerics or aspiring paladins of the order have felt the call to join this team,” Matron said.

“The answer to your question is one that I might help with. It’s one I believe you know already. A healer for your initiates has already been chosen by the light, one that will bind their wounds with magic and become part of the whole. This one will not come from our ranks, but from outside, from somewhere we least expect,” Seer replied.

“Vague as always, does your skill always deal in ambiguity, or will I ever get an exact response,” Matron replied, frustrated as she normally was with the signs and portends that this old man dredged up.

“You dance around the main issue with your new charges and complain about my ambiguity. How fares the warrior of their group, the one member of the party you neglected to mention?” Seer asked.

“Powerful, deadly, but uncontrolled. I’m still not sure if she’s an asset or a liability to the group. Only time will tell,” Matron offered.

“Yes, time and your firm guidance. I have always respected that about you, Matron, you have a tough exterior but will do anything to see your initiates succeed. But bantering about your gaggle of fledgling adventurers isn’t why I asked you here, at least not directly. My vision is drawn to the Crag Steppes, and a new dungeon appearing there. It is a strange one, a place that defies my attempts to look further,” Seer said, his thought distracted as Matron watched him gaze into the candlelight once again.

“Is this new dungeon one that my initiates can handle?” Matron asked. Her group needed a place to delve and grow, and they were planning to eventually head to Brighton Harbor where a lower-level dungeon had been found a few years ago. The dungeon had grown and developed since it was found, but it was still suitable for a new party to cut their teeth on the challenges found inside. Brighton Harbor was a journey of several months, but while the Crag Steppes wasn’t the easiest to get to, it would only take them a few weeks of hard travel.

“Yes, the place is new, but not without dangers, I’m sure. The reason I want you there is because of something else. My vision saw more than just an unusual dungeon, it alerted me to a threat that is brewing. Watch your charges closely, watch to see if this dungeon is tainted or if something else lurks nearby, clouding my vision. All I can say for sure is that it is the will of the light for you and your party to be there and that their success or failure will decide the fate of many,” the Seer said, handing Matron a map with a circle marking where he believed the dungeon would be found.

The area that was circled covered dozens of miles, but when she tried to ask for specifics, Seer ignored her, completely focused now on the flickering candle. She had seen him in this state before, it would be hours before he came to his senses, and even after that, it would take him days to recover. Something important was being revealed to him, something that didn’t involve her or her party. Only once had she tried to gaze into the light while the Seer was so distracted. Matron didn’t remember what she saw, only that it would have driven her mad should she have concentrated on it a few seconds more.

Matron returned to her chambers, sending a page to summon her party to the stables, giving them instruction to bring all their gear, and rations for a month of travel. A myriad of tasks poured into her head, all the little things she needed to do before a long journey. The movements were almost automatic, and her travel duffel had already been half-packed for weeks in anticipation of, well, she wasn’t quite sure. Matron might not be a seer, but she could feel that there was something she would be called to do.

Her preparation stopped as she walked over to her armor stand. The suit of plate and chain was finely crafted, a reward for her years of service. It had protected her in battle countless times, the enchantments woven into it would slowly repair any damage to it and the paladin that wore it. Faint marks on the surface were all that remained of the wounds that both the armor and she had taken in the fight against evil. Matron knew that under her tunic, her body had matching scars in many of the same places. The armor healed her as it repaired itself, but it didn’t do so without blemish.

With only a thought, the armor disappeared from the stand and appeared on Matron, another enchantment that she had spent piles of coin on. Her hand sought out the war hammer propped up next to the armor. The weapon had a solid metal haft, and a chisel-tipped head that could crush the skull of a dragon if it needed to. Despite the runes carved into it, runes that reduced the weight of the weapon and improved its balance for her alone, it felt different. Her once-prodigious strength was fading, her body weakening a bit more each year and one day, even with the enchantments, her hammer would be beyond her strength to wield. Someday it would be beyond her, but not today. Hoisting the two-handed weapon over her shoulder, Matron went to gather her flock.

Arguing voices greeted her as she entered the stables, as she suspected, the two brothers Frex and Chamm were at it again. The two were inseparable, but also unable to go for more than a few minutes without fighting. Things had been much more problematic when the pair would use their magic and not just their fists, but Matron had put a stop to that some time ago. She was a harsh teacher, but that harshness would help to keep them alive.

“I take it that since you two have time to argue, all of  your gear is squared away?” She asked the two brothers as she entered the stables.

“Aye, Matron, we’re ready,” Frex said, his quavering voice betraying the confidence he tried to show.

“Good, then let’s do an inventory, shall we. We’ll start with you Frex,” Matron said. She had the party clear off one of the hostler’s work tables, and the mage laid out what he had packed for their journey. It was a mess, missing several things he would need during their travels.

“I see you don’t think you’ll need more than one waterskin. What if our destination is in a desert environment and the water that we do find is unsafe to drink?” Matron asked.

“I can use my flames to purify it,” Frex offered.

“Yes, use your flames and evaporate our precious water, good call,” she said, watching the young fire mage wilt under her glare. The rest of his gear was present, save for a backup ranged and melee weapon. Neglecting weapons was a common fault in young mages, confidence in their magical prowess often outweighed their mana pool. Other than that, he hadn’t packed nearly enough food.

The others weren’t much better, only the berserker Larah was nearly squared away, she had also misjudged the number of foodstuffs she needed to bring. Normally, they could hunt, forage, or purchase food from settlements along the way to supplement their supplies, but you couldn’t always count on that. Valuable time was wasted as Matron sent them to correct their errors. When they had returned and passed inspection, she finally told them the purpose of this little exercise.

“Now that you are reasonably prepared and are done wasting my time, I’ll tell you where our destination is. Seer has detected the emergence of a new dungeon in the Crag Steppes, and it is my intention to continue your training within this dungeon. Make no mistake, my presence is only to instruct you and to prevent disaster, not to do your work for you. Should one of you make a serious error, you will die, and even my prowess may not be able to save you. Remember your lessons and work together if you want to not only survive but also grow and prosper,” Matron said.

“Is this dungeon low ranked?” Larah asked.

“A good question, and one we don’t have an answer to. Common sense would dictate that a new dungeon shouldn’t be too challenging, but you can never tell with dungeons. Keep in mind that even if the defenders are weak, a dungeon is a cunning entity that would love nothing more than to slay a careless adventurer and feast upon the mana their death creates,” Matron answered.

“Should we bring extra horses so we can carry all the loot I’ll pilfer from inside our new dungeon,” the diminutive halfling rogue offered. Tipp was a work in progress, a youngster that was far too confident in his ability. Matron had to admit the halfling showed promise as a rogue, not an uncommon finding among his people, but a promising young rogue can die just as easily as anyone else when not focused on his job.

“You know, we really should make some extra room for loot, Tipp. Unfortunately, the order can only spare a few pack horses for our venture, so you’ll just have to make do. Hmm, perhaps I have a solution, I want each of you to carry two additional duffel bags, that should give us a place to store all the treasures you find,” Matron replied. The party groaned and cast death glares at Tipp. It may not sound like much, but they all knew from experience that any additional weight, even that of two empty duffel bags, would become pure torture during a long journey.

“Now, it’s time for us to be off, we’ll be moving at a fast pace and stopping only when absolutely necessary. One of the things I learned from my earliest dungeon delve is that being one of the first to the dungeon can give you a huge advantage. I want you to have that same advantage, so I expect no whining about how tired you all are, this is for your own good,” Matron said. Seer hadn’t mentioned how long the dungeon had been active, and there was a good chance that others were already there, limiting the number of delves they could complete.

They left the Brilliant Keep and the town of Klaxton that surrounded it, heading east toward the Crag Steppes. Her charges kept a good pace, it seemed the chance to finally put their skills to the test had given them a pep in their step. A trio of pack animals was led by the party, each heavily laden down with tents, supplies, and the things needed for an extended stay once they arrived at their destination.

Matron rode her trustworthy mount, Beauregard, A horse she had owned for several years now. Beauregard had been trained the order’s horse masters and was as deadly in battle as he was steady on the trail. Once in the countryside, Matron activated her armor’s enchantment, sending the suit into the storage pack she had placed on Beauregard for this very purpose. Being able to summon her armor and weapons at will meant she could ride with a bit more comfort than the others who she required to remain fully equipped and ready for action whenever they weren’t sleeping. A few jealous glances were cast her way from the party, but they knew that she had earned the privilege of some level of comfort.

They made good speed on their trip, and Matron spent several hours each day quizzing them and having them practice their skills as a team, both during the day and in the dark of night, which better reflected the environment they would find themselves in while exploring a dungeon. As the journey progressed, the grassy plains and farmland gave way to bleaker terrain as they entered the outskirts of the Crag Steppes. The road also narrowed, and the constant traffic became a trickle that consisted of mostly stout-hearted merchants and those who wished their journeys to go unnoticed by others.

“Ah, what have we here lads? It looks like grandmother is going somewhere,” A voice called out from one of the rare copses of trees near the roadway. A scruffy man holding a loaded crossbow stepped out into the road, another pair of ruffians holding spears stood by the man, all of them glowing a sickly purple color in Matron’s sight as their evil intent was revealed to her. Filthy and abused leather jerkins provided the highwaymen some protection, and the way they held their weapons revealed to her they were unskilled in their use. Still, an unskilled man can easily kill the unprepared.

She had expected some form of confrontation during their journey, they were moving further from civilization with each step and the wilds near the Crag Steppes teemed with dangers, not the least of which were the bandits that used the rough terrain to seek refuge from the authorities. The merchants that did face these roads usually did so with a strong escort. To these bandits, Matron must have looked like a lone elderly woman, one rich enough to afford several horses, but not wealthy enough to hire more than a few inexperienced guards.

“I will give you one chance, and only one, to let us pass,” she said to the group.

“Oh, you hear that lads, the old wench has some bite to her. Hope down off your horse granny and maybe we’ll not skin you alive. Just look at the rest of these blighters, lads,” the thug said to his comrades, gesturing rudely at her initiates. “Granny, did you actually hire this lot as your protection? You should pay us, we’ll see you through safely, won’t we lads?” The leader bellowed. Matron gave a show of slowly dismounting from Beauregard, not in any way to comply with the bandit’s demands, but to keep her precious beast out of the line of fire of the man’s crossbow.

A quick glance to either side revealed three more attackers standing up from where they had hidden on the other side of the road, foolishly giving away their presence in an effort to intimidate the group. Hand signals were passed among her charges, assigned a target to each of them. The fledgling party could take care of the three newest attackers, none of which held a ranged weapon, and she would handle the loudmouthed leader and his two companions.

“You are judged by the light and found wanting. No longer shall you trouble the innocent, your lives are forfeit,” Matron called as she summoned her armor and weapons. The bandits stood there stunned for a crucial, and fatal, few moments as the helpless old lady in front of them became an armored paladin, glowing with power. Recovering quicker than the other two, the leader fired off his crossbow, the bolt shattering against Matron’s breastplate as she charged toward him. He fumbled to reload as she swung her hammer, the chiseled tip, designed to crush and penetrate armor did horrible things to the man’s skull.

Matron pulled from her mana, sending a bolt of energy into one of the spear wielders beside the now-dead leader. Her target’s scream of pain cut short as the damaging power burned completely through her target. The final spearman thrust his weapon, the rust pitted point of the spear skittered off her armored vambrace, the man looking horrified as Matron’s hammer swung once more to finish off her last foe.

With her three attackers dealt with, Matron turned her attention toward her initiates. Larah had a pair of steel axes in hand and was getting the better of her foe. Given the burnt and frost-covered bodies lying nearby, it appeared the mages had done away all but the attacker that Larah was busy with. Popping up, seemingly from nowhere, Tipp appeared behind the final highwayman, his dagger easily piercing the thin and patched leather armor that the man wore. The wound wasn’t mortal, but it did distract the man enough for Larah to land a pair of fatal blows with her weapons. It was over in less than ten seconds, and her initiates had done well. Six men had died, but that was due to their evil intent, Matron and her party were merely the instruments of righteous judgment, the only blame for the deaths lay with the highwaymen’s actions, not those of her and her initiates.

“Well done, next time, don’t hold back Larah, Tipp shouldn’t have had time to reach your opponent,” Matron said. Larah should have easily outmatched the clumsy highwayman. The young woman had so much potential, but she feared her class as much as the foe. It was with good reason, a berserker could easily lose themselves in the heat of battle, having trouble telling friend from foe.

“What do we do now?” Frex asked, looking a bit sick over the carnage he had just been forced to participate in.

“They are gone, but we should not leave their belongings for others to abuse. Search them and look for their camp. Given the lazy nature of bandits such as these, it must be nearby. This was likely all of them, but likely doesn’t mean certain, so use caution as you approach their lair,” Matron ordered.

Taking the attackers’ gear and valuables wasn’t as clean as gathering loot in a dungeon, but it would be a good lesson for them. The bandits were likely poor, she doubted they had more than few coppers to their name, but nothing should be wasted. It would also serve as a reminder to her charges that a single mistake in battle could have fatal consequences. It could have just as easily been their party that was lying on the ground dead, and their pockets being rifled through by the victor. This was a hard world, one that had proven to be much more difficult than Matron would have ever expected when she started her journey as a new adventurer so long ago.