Conary left the hall that night, somewhat puzzled by this new twist his courtship of Lady Velvet had taken. He had thought with the death of Kodar the future was clear. He and Velvet would be wed and live happily ever after. The Lord Blackhawke had stunned them both by setting him a quest before he would consent to the marriage. Far to the south, there was an island, on which there was a temple, guarded by various obstacles, among them two stone golems, and in the temple, an emerald ring. "Bring back the ring," Blackhawke said. So Conary bowed, kissed Velvet goodbye, and ran for his room at the Guild Hall. He threw together some clothes and grabbed his spellbook, shoving all into the pack that had served him on his trip to Camelot. Then he headed for the waterfront, hoping to find passage to Cyclops Island.

Three hours later, he was still looking. Now he stood outside Bilge Water Tavern, resigned to the fact that if he failed here, he would have to journey overland to another town and try his luck there. Hoping against hope, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. "Hello?"

The Bilge Water had looked beaten up on the outside, but the common room that Conary stepped into was ten times worse. The air was thick with smoke and a sickening smell that Conary sincerely hoped was not coming from the kitchen. Over in a corner, a big barbarian with a dented helmet was lying face down on his table in a half-drunken stupor. The rest of the patrons regarded Conary with less then friendly faces. He took a deep breath, immediately regretting it as his nose was once more assailed by that odor, then plowed on.

"I’m seeking passage to Cyclops Isle."

A rough looking character showed a broken tooth grin. "And you would pay how much for this passage, lordling, hmm?"

Conary reached for his purse. "50 Gold pieces!" His offer once more met with scornful laughs or flat indifference. "And I'll work off the rest!" That brought forth even more laughter, and he had to dodge some flung tankards to boot. He was about to turn and make his way outside, when arms fell across his neck, and a friendly voice murmured in his ear.

"Never let anyone get a clear view of yer money purse, yer worship. Nae need to make it easy for us, is there?" The voice belonged to man who Conary vaguely remembered seeing about Camelot. He was dressed in tan shirt and breeches, and a longsword hung in a well worn sheath at his side. Black curly hair and beard were streaked with gray, but the man's face appeared young. "Cyclops Isle, is it? I hear tell there may be some er... goods ... there. Mayhap I might go along with ye, just to see the sights. Come, yer worship, I may know someone who can take us."

He steered Conary for the door, pausing only as the barbarian suddenly sat up with a gutwrenching sob. "Wenn woman... Xan lady!" Conary's companion patted the other man's shoulder in sympathy and whispered, "There, there, Korys! Try The Morrigan next time! She appreciates strong men." He turned, gave Conary a wink, and then gently pushed the younger man out the door. Once outside, Conary turned. "Thank you for the help. I am... "

"Yes, Conary deFarne, I know. I make it my business to know all about the comings and goings in Camelot. Part of the pollinatin'." He looked up the street, where a drunk stumbled against a busy merchant clad all in purple. "And I'm Devlin, at yer service, yer Worship." He bowed, the motion putting him in the way as the drunk nearly stumbled into Conary. He straightened with a grin, dusted the drunk off, and sent him on his way with a friendly slap on the back. Then he hooked his arm about Conary's and hustled him away to a dock a few streets over.

While the young mage stood there dumbfounded, his self-appointed fellow traveler dickered with a grizzled sea captain. Finally the captain threw back his head, laughed, shook Devlin's hand, and then took a fat purple purse Dev handed him with a smile. Devlin walked over to Conary and made a motion up the gangplank. "Yer ship awaits, yer Worship."

It wasn’t until half an hour later, as the ship caught the morning and headed away from Camelot, that Conary realized where the purse must have come from. He turned an accusing stare at Devlin. The rogue laughed, shrugged his shoulders. "I merely took it from that supposedly drunk man back there. He would have taken yours too." He tossed Conary his moneypurse, took a deep breath and he smiled. "Should be an interestin' trip. Very interestin' indeed."


The Emerald Ring - Part 2

Two weeks later, Conary was sure his trip was cursed. What Devlin had neglected to mention to the young mage was that the ship he had so easily booked passage on was owned by a smuggler. Instead of being somewhere on Cyclops Island looking for a temple, Conary and his erstwhile guide found themselves being chased up and down the coastline by officers of the crown.

The height of frustration came when the ship was forced to lay low in a hidden cove for three days. While Conary paced the length of the ship and back over and over, Devlin was engaged in gambling with the crew, winning a pile of money which he then worked hard at losing. “Doesn’t pay to have 'em thinking about all their money sitting in my purse when we're three miles offshore. `Tis a long swim." As if Devlin had to worry, thought Conary. A day out of port the rogue had tied an old rag over his brow, kicked off his boots and swarmed up the rigging like a monkey. An hour later, when Devlin removed his shirt, his standing with the crew went up several more notches.

A wrinkled-faced sailor nudged Conary in the ribs. “See those scars on his lower back? A galley slave I trow yon Devlin was. They leave the arms untouched... so ye can keep rowing!" So Devlin had become a crew favorite, always ready with a jest or ribald joke and able and willing to help about the ship. And Conary? Conary spent the first few days of the voyage leaning over a rail being sick. He spent the next few days just as miserable with a sunburn to his fair skin. Devlin had given him some ointment, but it smelled so horrid the crew tried to keep upwind of him when they could.

In short, it was some of the most miserable days of his life. Then things got worse. They were near the final stretch of coast line before sailing out upon the open sea. Conary was looking at the cliffs towering over them, his mind wondering when he would once more see Velvet.

Suddenly, his heart leapt as he saw a great osprey wheeling in the sky above the ship. He summoned his will and Called the bird to him, an idea having him in its grip. He untied the red ribbon he wore about his left arm, then held the piece of cloth pressed hard to his forehead as he imbedded a message to his beloved into the very essence of the thing. "Hold fast, Velvet. I will return. I love you!"

He tied the ribbon to the left foot of the osprey as it sat on top the ship's rail, and laid a geas on it to take the ribbon to the lady whose face he showed to the bird in its brain. When he was sure he had succeeded, he stepped away, signaled, and the bird lifted off in three beats of its powerful wings and was gone. It was not until he turned around and saw the crewmen backing away and making gestures against the Evil Eye that he realized what a mistake this might have been, a thought Devlin confirmed later that night in their cabin. “They may drop us off at the island, lad. But it's not sure I am that they'll come back for us." Conary thought about this the next few days as they sailed closer and closer to the island.

Finally one morning, the captain knocked softly on their cabin door. “We’re here!" is all he said as he backed quickly away from Conary. Devlin gave Conary a lop-sided grin as he pulled his boots back on and buckled his swordbelt. "All ashore tha's goin' ashore, yer worship." When the pair reached the deck above, captain and crew stood assembled, as if to reassure themselves the mage was leaving the ship. They had lowered a small dinghy over the side for the adventurers, and the two moved to the side in silence... until Conary whirled, arms outstretched. "Hear me! I, Conary de Farne, place a geas upon this ship. In three days time, it must return for the man known as Devlin and myself, or vanish forever from the minds of men!" He bent over and touched the rough-hewn deck, all the time chanting in some guttural dialect Devlin did not ken.

Eventually he stopped, turned, and clambered down into the waiting dinghy. As they watched the larger boat sail away, Devlin looked at the young mage. "Very impressive lad. I dinna know you could lay a curse like that`un" Conary grinned. “That was no curse. That was one of the first spells I learned in Old Farnese. It helps cure hemorrhoids." As Devlin's raucous laugh filled the boat, Conary turned and looked at the island ahead. He thought again of Velvet. "Soon, my love, soon!"


The Emerald Ring - Part 3

Pathoun was one angry orc...

Here it was, supply ship day, and he was stuck on the far side of this damned island guarding some silly human temple that no one ever visited. Meanwhile all his friends were drinking, feasting, and...
"PSST!"
From around the corner of the temple, a slim, shapely arm bent, beckoning Pathoun away from his post. In the dim light of the single flickering torch of his station, it looked like a human female. His tentmate had not forgotten him after all. He looked about, the other guards were nowhere to be seen, and if not for prospect of what he thought awaited him around the corner, the orc would have been suspicious. He hitched up his swordbelt, and spit on his hand to slick back his hair. "Coming, sweetling!" he croaked and followed her around the corner, stopping as the figure turned and smiled. The bearded woman laughed. "Evenin' darlin'." Then something hard hit his head, and Pathoun collapsed to the ground.

Devlin tossed the wig he'd made from weeds and stepped out of the grass skirt. "I still say if ye were usin' one of those glamour spells, I shouldna' have had to wear those!" Conary looked up as he dragged the unconscious orc under some bushes and bound and gagged him. His companion was right, of course, but the look on Devlin's face when he'd jokingly suggested this ruse had been so hilarious that Conary had not been able to help himself.

So six guards had fallen to the decidedly unglamorous Devlin's allure and Conary's blackjack. Their long voyage here had worked to their advantage after all, for the arrival of the ship from the kingdoms to the south had diverted most of the guards away from the temple. Otherwise, their task would not have been a lark. Satisfied the last orc was secure, Conary motioned to Devlin and the two men made their way along the front wall of the temple. They stayed in the shadows as much as possible in case they had missed a guard or if a relief detail might be approaching.

The main concern Conary had was the two stone golems Blackhawke had mentioned. Finally, they reached the entrance, and Devlin leaned up against the leg of the statue on the side of the main doorway. “So... any idea what other surprises there are... " He stopped as he looked through the well-lit temple door, his exclamation drowned out by the sound of the surf hitting the rocks of the cliff on the far side of the temple.

Barely ten yards inside the temple door stood a raised altar, well-lit... unguarded. Conary sent out a probe of power... then he frowned. “Nothing. This is almost too easy, Devlin." But still he moved forward to look at the wealth stacked and fallen on the altar.

There! He reached out and picked up a golden ring with an emerald set delicately in the band. Somehow he knew this was the ring Blackhawke had set as his quest. He wrapped it in a bit of silk lying nearby and slipped it in a small pouch, then hung it from his head. Beside him, Devlin was acting strangely... for him. Instead of tearing into the pile and grabbing as much as he could carry, the rogue's hand reached out and grabbed one item, a large brooch with some sort of reptile engraved upon it. He pinned it to his vest with a bemused expression, then turned to Conary. "Best we get while the gettin is good." The word were barely out of his mouth when the walls rumbled and dust fell from the ceiling. Outside, the two stone statues began moving. Devlin turned to Conary... "There's something ye haven't told me, isn’t there, yer worship?"


* TRANSLATORS NOTE:

The unfortunate orc's name became a byword for negligence of duty due to... er... sexual indulgence. He was immortalized by the use of his name for countless generations of scolding wives, mothers, and sergeants: "Keep your Pathoun in your pants... "


The Emerald Ring - Part 4

Conary pushed Devlin for the door. “Not now... RUN!!" He didn't wait for Devlin to reply. Instead, he darted out the door as the two statues came to life, then he turned to face the stone golems. He raised his arms... hoping he had enough power to do this right. “Run, Dev!" He needn't have worried, the rogue was already well clear. He made a gesture, and then made a throwing gesture. The far golem, the one closest to Devlin, suddenly dissolved into a pile of mud. But the one nearest to Conary was almost upon him. There was no time, and suddenly he felt like he was walking very slowly... Then he was hit from behind.

He had a fleeting glimpse of Devlin capering madly about... yelling at the golem. It turned to follow the older man, and Conary rolled away in the other direction. He had perhaps seconds to act... and very little energy for another spell. "Devlin! Head for the cliffs!" And then he changed...

Devlin looked back and almost fell. Where Conary had stood a few minutes ago was a huge white osprey, leaping up and diving at the head of the golem. For a few seconds, the golem seemed confused, but then it started out for Dev again. The osprey dove at it again, coming in over the water and using the air to counter the construct's slowing spell. Dev grinned, knowing now what Conary intended. He ran closer to the cliff edge. The golem followed, but now seemed confused. If Devlin stopped moving, it seemed to concentrate more on the bird. Finally, they reached a point where the ledge narrowed. Devlin had nowhere left to run, and felt the lethargy that the golem projected to those close enough.

For Conary, all this was a whirl of dives and loops... but now he too felt the golem's spell. He played one last gamble. This time he dove from the land side, striking it full in the chest. There was a low rumble and the ground beneath them broke free from the cliff. He pushed off against the golem's chest, and whirled backwards as it went over the cliff. The last thing he saw was the ground rushing up to hit him...

"Conary? CONARY! Wake up, o' scourge of the oceans!" A white blurry giant was screaming in his face... "G'day t’ya, yer worship!" A giant with a bad accent yet. But slowly his vision cleared and he looked up at Devlin. The man handed him a steaming cup of the worst stuff he'd ever tasted. "What happened?"

"You've been out for three days. The ship picked us up and the winds have been pushing us along at a very good clip indeed. We’ll be back in Camelot in a day or two. Ye had me scared out o' me wits for a bit there, changing back in mid air. But ye were lucky ye did it so slow that last time. You were bird until just before ye hit. And you are no wee lass. My back near broke hauling you to the dinghy!"

"Three days!" He groaned and sat up. "We've already been away so long!"

"Patience, lad. We're more than halfway home now. You'll see her soon enough." But as the day wore on, patience wore thin. Finally, while they stood on the deck at sunset, Conary turned to Devlin. "I can't wait any longer." He took out a scroll, read it again and nodded to himself. He looked at Devlin. "I'm going home. Care to join me?" With that, he read the words on the scroll...

And they went home... to Camelot...

8/98, 9/98