Betrayer of Heroes
Part 5 of Vegapath’s Heroes
A murmur passed through the small crowd of brickmakers as the man before them spoke in hushed tones. The man appeared to be in his middle years. Hard work and harder sun had beaten the man into a leathery knot of gristle and sinew. His head held only a ring of dark hair quickly fading to grey, and his short beard was much the same. He wore plain workman’s clothes and tough leather sandals, and everything was coated in a thin layer of red dust. Those gathered were much the same in appearance and dress, but this man stood out by the small pendant at his throat. A simple silver harp with golden strings.
“His moment was well timed. Kasfer was trapped in a cage formed by the bones of the great dragon’s skeletal chest. The Black Rose occupied the attention of Holyhale, Lathander’s chosen champion. With the others dead or running, nothing could stop him from striking down the Descendant Shell. With the power of his tainted god, he snuffed out the Light of Lathander and watched darkness consume the rest.”
There was bone deep sadness in the speaker’s voice. The sting of betrayal and the loss of beloved friends, and the grown men gathered around him shared his tears.
***
In a steam filled room inside a warehouse within the Wolf Quarter, a group of washerwomen gathered around their work. Their hands, red and cracked by the hot water and hard lye soap of their craft, were still for the moment as they listened to the newcomer. Skirts, pulled up and tucked beneath them to keep free of any errant splashes, served to cushion their seating. The group was used to stories being shared as they worked. Passing the day with idle gossip, new life events, or tales of scandal. The new girl was different. Her hands were still young and tender. Her back not yet bowed with hard labor. Her stories, well, her stories were not the usual. And that silver and gold pendant had never seen the tarnish of lye suds.
“Five there were that set out that day. Five to travel shadowed realms and mystic pathways. Least, that’s what I heard. Left Fort Vegapath in the early morning hours and spent most of the day traveling to where old Horsa used to be. Town’s not there anymore, if you can believe that. Everything’s gone. Tree, stone, and soil all disappeared. Only a few buildings on the outskirts still stand. And in one of those, a strange object was found. A mirror. A mirror that acts as a door between our world and another. Or so they say. The Shadow Realm. Why, if I’d been there you know what I would have told them. Trouble. That looks like the worst sort of trouble. You’d think those soldiers would have more sense. But I guess taking risks is what makes them so heroic, unlike me. I’d have smashed the thing and run away. That’s probably why I’m still here and they’re…”
Her words trailed off as she took to scrubbing the clothing in her tub. The silence stretched on for a while before one of the other women spoke up.
“What happened next?”
With her head bent to her task, it wasn’t possible for the gathered circle of women to see the sparkle in her eye as she started back up.
“Nothing good. Though a story worth telling.”
***
At a table in a tavern called the Eastward Watch, a group of 5 men, dock workers all, sat cradling mugs of cheap ale. Though most were human, there was also a sharp-eyed halfling, and the speaker. A middle-aged half orc with a broken tusk and a heavy squint in the eye on that side of his darkly bearded face. His voice was rough, with the lisp most of his kind have that showed more of their orc parentage. The empty mugs on the table showed their interest in what he was saying. As the half orc leaned forward to mutter conspiratorially with those around him, their eyes were drawn to the simple silver pendant he wore in the shape of a harp with golden strings.
“Aye. None too good were the events that happened on the other side of the shadow mirror.”
His voice was somber as he spoke of what happened.
“Some say the group was led there by none other than Princess Ayula Waveborn herself, last of her line, and heir to an ocean throne. Some say it was Holyhale. Lathander’s Descendant Shell sent to bring his god’s divine light to drive out the Shadow. Whatever the case, it does not matter. What matters is that they went. And they brought treachery with them. A betrayer. A cursed one-eyed friend.”
***
On a brightly lit street corner sat a circle of children with several adults looking on. Before them performed a man behind a puppeteer’s cart. The man was mostly hidden behind the drapery of the scene in which the puppets danced, but every so often light could be seen reflecting off a small silver harp shaped pendant.
The scene depicted a lone female figure seated on the ground before a fire. Some trick of the light caused sparks to be seen within the fabric flames. Around the woman were stone pillars, and the drapery depicted a shadow gray void around her.
From the left side of the scene entered five wooden figures dancing merrily on unseen strings. A silver painted man in a green cloak, a pink painted woman with pink hair, a small green haired figure, a tall man with dark hair, and a green painted man with an eye patch and wearing armor.
The puppeteer’s act seemed well rehearsed, and the voices he gave his characters delighted the children.
“’Who’s there?’ asked Princess Francesca. ‘I can’t see you in this darkness.’”
“’We’ve come to rescue you,’ replied Princess Ayula. ‘You should come with us back to the world of light.’”
“Another man approached,” announced the puppeteer, and another figure danced in from the right side of the scene. “This man was dressed as a common soldier, and he looked frightened. ‘Please,’ the man said, ‘Take us with you.’”
“The heroes of Fort Vegapath did not know this man, and were very suspicious of him.”
“’Stay back!’ cried the one-eyed half orc. ‘You will not stop us from rescuing Princess Francesca. Begone before we strike you down!’”
“The soldier cowered before the powerful words of one of Vegapath’s heroes. ‘Please, sir, I mean you no harm. Just take us both with you.’”
“’Begone!’ cried the one eyed man, again. His voice thundering in the space.”
“As the echo of his cry faded, a new sound carried along the wind. The sound of beating wings and the rattling of long dead bones. ‘Fie, fie,’ cried the frightened soldier. ‘The Black Rose comes for us! We are doomed!’”
From the right side of the scene, in flew a skeletal dragon bearing a black armored figure. And below an assortment of skeletal warriors danced their way, on invisible strings, towards the group.
As the dragon circled the puppeteer called out in an ominous voice.
“’It is too late to escape now, fools. You cannot escape me. I will take Francesca and lay you all to waste!’”
A gasp from the gathered children caused parents to smile at their enjoyment of the tale. Later that night, they would curse that strange puppeteer as their children would fear closing their eyes to sleep.
***
“Goodness Salm!” cried one of the other washerwomen. An older woman so accustomed to her work that she barely needed to watch what she was doing. “That sounds terrifying.”
“I’m sure it was,” replied the young woman telling the tale. “With the dragon came a host of the dead. Walking as though they didn’t know they belonged yet in the ground. Bones rattled and teeth clacked, and over them all flew that great monster of a dead dragon. Can you imagine standing before all that? It’s enough just thinking about it to turn my stomach. Yet there the five stood ready to face it all down to save a princess.”
“It’s romantic,” murmured one of the other women in a dreamy tone. “Don’t you agree?”
“Not this time, I’m afraid.” Replied Salm.
***
“The damned beasty overhead barely waited a heartbeat before cutting down the soldier. Coward though he was, he didn’t deserve that.” Slurred the half orc to his table companions.
“With that, the frozen moment was over and the soldiers of Vegapath rushed to destroy the dead. To match the skeletal dragon, Holyhale rose into the sky and began to call down the power of Lathander. Scorching light burned swathes of the dead to ash. Princess Francesca was struck a blow and fell, but Ayula Waveborn was there to bring her back from the brink of death. But for her caring nature, she drew the attention of the Black Rose. With a mighty sweep of dragon’s claws and rider’s sword, the Triton Princess was gravely injured. In stepped the mercenary Splash. The old half orc warrior healing her injuries and returning her to the fight. His one remaining eye turned to survey the battle with a veteran’s appraisal and took in the nature of deadly the fight. He did not waver, however. He’d seen it’s like before and come out the other side.”
The speaker, Salm, paused and shook his head. Taking another long pull from his mug he went back into the story.
***
Down swooped the puppet dragon once more landing upon the pink painted figure of Princess Ayula. There the two figures shimmied together before the Soldier of the Fort fell still. The dragon reared up and a gout of dark smoke puffed thickly from its up turned and open mouth. A roar, guttural and fierce, pierced the air. Nearby, the green painted one-eyed figure turned to see the carnage, and its posture suggested horror.
“Just as the one-eyed mercenary seemed to have saved the princess from death, death instead found her for the last time.”
There was another gasp from the gathered children, and one little dark haired girl began to silently cry.
“’I have slain your friend.’ Called the Black Rose from atop the dragon. ‘And now I come for the rest of you!’”
As the dragon puppet rose back into the air, a flash of light leapt from the silver figure of Holyhale. It missed the dragon by a hair’s breadth, but struck several of the skeleton figures. They fell still and were dragged out of the scene on invisible wires as the dragon’s roar of defiance called out.
“’Damn you!’ Screamed Kasfer, and he charged toward the dragon.”
The small green haired figure danced across the scene, a pulse of green light spilling over the prone form of the pink princess. The figure did not rise, and the green light faded to nothing.
“Kasfer had only a moment to recognize that his magic could not bring back Princess Ayula before the dragon fell upon him. Great teeth filled jaws opened wide and dove, snapping closed around the green haired gnome. Up the head lifted to the sky, and the bones of its neck became a steep slide that dropped Kasfer into a prison of the dragon’s ribs. He could not escape. His strength was not great enough to break free of his imprisonment and he was forced to watch what happened next in horror.”
Behind the startled children, the grinning parents began to exchange nervous looks with each other.
***
Back at the murmuring crowd of brickmakers, the story continued as they began to hush.
“It isn’t known why Splash turned on the Heroes of Vegapath. Why he threw in with the Black Rose. But we know the outcome of his betrayal.”
The speaker’s voice, still filled with sadness, broke at the last words. Tears streaked his brick dusted cheeks and made him look as though he cried tears of blood.
“The power that the god Hoar, the god Splash revered, gave him was enough to strike Holyhale from the sky. The Descendant Shell fell, and such was his height that the impact crumpled his body and his soul passed into the heavens. The last great resistance to the dragon and its rider perished at the hands of a trusted friend. The Betrayer of Heroes was born, that day, out of the deaths of three of Vegapath’s finest soldiers. Berserk hatred and glee filled the remaining eye of the Betrayer as he stood by and watched poor Kasfer get crushed to death in the deadly prison of the dragon’s body. The small gnome, ground to a disgusting paste beneath the inevitable weight of the great beast, stood no chance.”
In the silence that followed a man called out.
“How do you know this? If nobody survived, how do you know? Sounds like a scam to me.”
There was a sudden murmur as others voiced their agreement. But before the comments could get out of hand Salm raised his voice above it all.
“Because there was a survivor!”
***
“Really? Who?” asked the youngest of the washerwomen. Her voice thick with held back tears.
“Remember. Five there were that left the Fort that day. Holyhale, Princess Ayula, Kasfer the gnome, and Splash the god’s blighted Betrayer of Heroes. The last was a ffolk. A local man who answered the call to war against our enemy to the south. Though he couldn’t match the strength and power of the heroes around him, he did what his heart told him to do, and he joined the fight. It’s his story of events that tell us of the fate of those three heroes at the hands of the treacherous mercenary Splash.”
The women gathered around all nodded their heads as they remembered the mention of a fifth person in the group.
“When he saw the battle going poorly, he knew he didn’t stand a chance in a fight with the Black Rose. So he did what the others couldn’t. He fled. He ran for the mirror in the shadow realm. And he made it back through, alive, before the dragon could chase him down and kill him too.”
***
A fresh canvas dropped at the rear of the puppeteer’s cart stage, replacing the gray void with a depiction of blue skies, fields of grass, and lines of distant trees. From the right side of the scene entered a tall figure with dark hair erratically dancing on invisible strings.
Across the scene the figure streaked off the left side of the stage, only to reappear on the right side and continue moving to the left. Several times this happened. Each time the figure danced off the left side of the stage, it would reappear again on the right to give the semblance of traveling a great distance.
“His name was Kenai. One of Alaron’s best. He raced back to Fort Vegapath to deliver the news of the Betrayer’s treachery, and the sad story of the loss of so many great heroes. That is how it is known what happened. That is why the name of the mercenary Splash is a curse on the lips of all the soldiers of the Fort.”
The puppeteer’s words were only slightly drowned out by crying children, and the glares of angry parents fell upon the cart in an attempt to bore through it and into the man behind the screen.
***
“No matter how many times I tell this tale,” slurred the half orc to his table companions. “I always wonder if I’ll ever know what happened to the Betrayer. If his story is finished. If he joined the Black Rose and is out there somewhere plotting to kill us all.”
He turned a sharp look toward the others, his unglazed eyes meeting their liberally sauced ones.
“I always wonder if there will be a strong enough man who will hear what happened and rise to the occasion. Join the soldiers of Fort Vegapath, and track the Betrayer down to give him what he has coming.”
His mouth stretched into a sly grin. “I don’t know. Perhaps even one of you would be man enough to do it.”
The others at the table only stared blearily at Salm.
***
“You know, girls, it isn’t only men that become heroes. Think about it. Princess Ayula Waveborn wasn’t always a fierce warrior. An orphan girl who gave herself to a cause and found glory. And there are others. So many other incredible women inside the walls of Vegapath. Fighting for the lives we cherish.”
The washerwoman, Salm, returned to the pile of clothing still resting next to her wash basin. The telling of her tale had distracted her, and she had barely touched them.
“Goodness me. At this rate, I’ll be here a tenday just to finish this.”
The other women gathered around her offered to take a portion of her work. Some begrudgingly, others with a sense of payment for an entertaining afternoon.
With her hands deep in the scalding water, Salm spoke a gentle question.
***
After packing away his puppets and closing the sides of the cart to conceal the stage within, the puppeteer turned to face the still gathered children. Their crying had subsided for the moment, and several parents had reluctantly come forward to place whatever copper coins they could spare into a small collection box set out on the ground.
The puppeteer was tall and skinny to the point of looking emaciated. His waxed mustache was twisted into two points that stuck out past his cheeks. A tall purple velvet hat adorned his bald head and his matching suit hung off his thin frame as though tailored for a larger man. His eyes sparkled with exhilaration, and his smile was infectious.
Leaning forward, he said. “Now children,” addressing those still gathered. “Have you heard of the benediction we say for the Soldiers of Vegapath? No? Well, it is our way of saying thank you for all that they do. Would you like to hear it? Yes?”
Several of the children nodded, and upon seeing them do so, the remainder of them did as well.
“Good. Now try to remember the words and you can always say your thanks whenever you would like to.”
Straitening to his full impressive height he began to drone.
“To the heroes of Vegapath. To those who stand before and for us. To the fallen who have died for us, to the injured who suffer for us, and to those who remain steadfast in their dedication to us. We offer our humble thanks in remembrance of your sacrifice.”
***
Elsewhere in the city, at different times and with different people, the bard known as Salm led them all in the benediction to the soldiers of Fort Vegapath. At times it was received with equal reverence. At other times it was to companions asleep at a table, its top strewn with empty mugs. But in every case, Salm left the ones who had listened with a story they would remember and tell to others.
And Salm would move on to speak with other people. With each new day spreading the tales of the heroic soldiers of Fort Vegapath further. He had many more places to go, and many more tales to tell.