The Dread Prophecy Ch 01

The Ahlissan Chronicles

~ Novella 3 ~

The Dread Prophecy

~ 1 ~

The Open Door

The Kingdom of Ahlissa, the capital city of Prymp (477 CY)

Prymp, a bustling port city of 23,000 people and the capital city of the Kingdom of Ahlissa, is a large and bustling center of trade for the young kingdom. Built on a natural harbor off of Relmor Bay it receives trade ships from all over the Flanaess. Such trade has allowed the kingdom and its' people to flourish, abject poverty is not the norm here. However, impoverished immigrants and refugees often journey to her shores and across her borders hoping to make a better life for themselves. Because of this the many faiths in the kingdom have opened missions in all the major cities in an attempt to help new arrivals get started. Missions are also run by well meaning private citizens who rely on public donations instead of the tithes of a particular faith; however, some of these private establishments are less legitimate than others.

One such questionable shelter is the Open Door rooming house situated in Prymp's Old Quarter, the oldest and arguably lowest income area of the city. The proprietor of the Open Door is an older woman named Leila; she is a thin slightly bent woman with grey-blonde hair, a dry wrinkled complexion and not as many teeth as she was born with. This night finds her wiping down the dilapidated bar in the common room with a dirty rag when the front door opens and an older couple makes their way in, to escape the driving rainstorm outside. Leila watches as they walk over to the fireplace, both are huddled into heavy wet grey traveling cloaks in a vain attempt to keep out the cold rain. Judging by the color and patterns of their clothing Leila guesses them to be refugees from the north. The bigger of the two, obviously the husband, helps his wife to sit on a small battered stool next to the hearth and the fire that burns within it. After making sure she is settled, he makes his way over towards the bar.

As he approaches her, Leila is able to get a better look at him. He is an ugly man to be sure, he is stout with tree stumps for arms and legs, powerfully thick but short. The man is also hunched from years of hard work, lifting and carrying. As he raises his head to speak to her an overly large nose protrudes from the rain drenched gray hood. Behind the large nose is a face that not even Leila was sure a mother could love.

"What can I get for you newcomer?" Leila asks the bedraggled man. It is late and she had been about to lock up and she certainly did not want to deal with these two. However, her count was still short and beggars couldn't be choosers. Leila had considered it a stroke of luck earlier in the day when five army deserters from the Great Kingdom had found their way into the questionable mission house.

"Please Madam, hot tea and some food if you have any?" replies the ugly man in a thick northern accent.

"Sure thing, have a seat by the fire and I'll bring it out to you." Leila watched as the homely man nodded his thanks and went back to attending his wife.

Walking through the swinging door to the kitchen, Leila grabbed two dirty plates from the tub of unwashed crockery. Then looking on the greasy stove she found a pan with a few over-cooked sausages and potatoes and scooped them onto the plates. After placing the plates on a serving tray she added half a loaf of stale bread and a pot of warm water that had been left hanging over the cook pit which had burned down to coals. Leila topped of the dirty tray with two cracked mugs and a few teabags before carrying the leftover fare out to her sodden guests.

"There you go." she said setting the tray on a table near the stooped couple.

She was able to get a better look at the woman now and she looked just as ugly as her husband. Of course given his looks it wasn't as if he would be married to a beautiful aristocrat. The man's wife appeared to be built much like her husband bent and calloused from a lifetime of hard work. Regardless, the driving rain outside had caused whatever they were covered in to smell like a dung heap. Leila watched as the man made tea in one of the cracked mugs and prepared his shivering wife a plate.

"When you're finished eating I have a few spare cots down in the basement. Sorry but all the upstairs rooms are full." That wasn't exactly true; Leila and her associates lived upstairs. She preferred her "guests" to stay in the cellar; it made the whole process much easier. Leila left the couple alone to eat as she picked up an oil lamp and made her way down into the basement. As she neared the bottom of the stairs a man seated near the stairs stood and peered up at her through the semi-dark.

"Who goes there?" asked the rough voice which was immediately followed by the sound of a dagger being loosened in its' scabbard.

"Shut up Roland, it's me of course. Who else would come down the stairs with a lantern?"

"Oh, sorry Leila, guess I didn't think." said a tall thin man with greasy hair and rat-like features.

"No you didn't. Idiot." replied Leila, clearly perturbed. "How are things down here?" she asked as she peered through the dim light of the cellar. "I have two refugees upstairs now. They're rather old but that won't matter much will it?" Leila snickered at her own joke.

"No it won't." agreed Roland who also sniggered at her comment.

"They will be down in a bit, see to it things are ready for them down here." Leila turned and headed back up the stairs not listening for Roland's reply.

When Leila reentered the common room she walked over to the main entrance of the mission and barred the door shut. She turned around and saw the hunched man watching her intently; she gave him her best gap toothed smile to cover her irritation.

"Can't be too careful, now can we?" she said in her best forced happy tone. "Are you two about ready?"

"Yes Ma'am, I believe we are." Then he turned to his wife. "Ready dear?" he asked before helping her to her feet and giving her his arm to lean on.

"So where are you two from?" Leila asked as she held her lantern high and extinguished a few of the table lights as she crossed the room towards the basement door.

"We are refugees from the cold reaches of the North Province and we hope to buy a small farm here in Ahlissa." said the hunched man as he waited near the door with his wife, his nose sticking out past the hem of his soaked grey hood.

"Well then I assume that you are no stranger to hard work and that will definitely come in handy." Leila giggled slightly as she opened the door to the cellar for the couple.

"Take the stairs straight down to the bottom where my assistant Roland is waiting. He will help get you settled in for the night." Leila waved at them and flashed another gap toothed grin at them as they descended the stairs. Once she was sure they were far enough down Leila shut the door and lowered the bar, locking them in.

When the refugee couple reached the bottom of the dim stairwell they found the rat-faced Roland awaiting them with a partially shuttered lantern.

"This way if you please," he said bowing in a mocking fashion "I have a place right over there."

As they made their way across the large stone basement the stooped man saw a little more than a hundred people sleeping on various cots and other makeshift bedding. Many had gathered what little they had and created small living areas. The huge room was lit by blackened oil lamps hung on the walls at intervals and the air smelled damp and closed in. He also noticed a large iron door situated in the center of the back wall.

"Where does that lead?" he whispered to Roland so as not to wake anyone else.

"Oh that?" Roland said waving his filthy hand in the general direction of the door. "Just an old wine tunnel that leads to the docks, it's leftover from when this was the wine cellar for the inn upstairs. Well, here we are."

They were in a far corner of the basement looking down at a pile of stray covered with a rough and torn piece of old canvas and a few heavy woolen but moth eaten blankets.

"Make your selves at home." smirked Roland. "I'll be across the room keeping watch if you need anything else." Then he turned away and walked back in the direction of the stairwell.

The hunched man with the large nose helped his wife to lie down on the straw and covered her as best he could with the blankets, then he sat up for a bit listening and watching. He could hear people coughing and shivering; they sounded feverish and probably needed a healer. Other people were groaning and shuffling from spending too many nights on the cold stone floor, overall this was a terrible excuse for a shelter that was supposed to be helping people. The bent man sat there huddled in his damp gray travelling cloak, his right hand absently rubbing his wife's back for more than an hour when something peculiar happened.

Around the edges of the room several men and a few women began to rise from their sleeping areas and were rousing the people amassed in the basement. He watched as fifteen to twenty of them moved through the room wielding short-swords and daggers waking people and forcing them to huddle together in the middle of the room. Before long a man came up and kicked him in the side.

"Come on old timer, get up!" barked the tall swarthy man as he waved a cutlass at him. "You'll move to the middle if you know what's good for you!"

The ugly man looked up at the individual who had kicked him and was not surprised to see a tattoo on his left forearm. The tattoo was a skull above two crossed scimitars with a trident coming down the middle; he had seen that mark before in his travels. Slavers! The brute kicked him again and the stooped man raised his hands in surrender before turning to rouse his wife from her sleep. When all the newcomers had been pushed and prodded into the middle of the room Roland walked up holding a small crossbow.

"Here's what's going to happen next," he said. "You stinking lot are going to walk down that tunnel and onto a waiting ship. If anyone tries to run or call out, they'll be the first one to get it!" barked Roland as he brandished his weapon. "Okay, open it up."

On his order a beefy man near the door began to unlock it. A few of the homeless on the outer edge of the crowd tried to resist and as a result small fights began to break out. The slavers quickly jumped on these individuals and began to beat them down; despite their threats of death they obviously wanted these people alive. During the ruckus the hunched man pulled his wife to the center of the amassed slaves and looking up found himself next to the five military deserters who wore the colors of Ahlissa's eastern neighbor the tyrannical Great Kingdom. One of the deserters, a sergeant according to his rank, looked down at the old man who looked up at him and nodded.

Suddenly, a bright white sphere shot up from the center of the amassed indigents toward the high ceiling, once it reached the stone ceiling it burst illuminating the entire basement. As everyone including the slavers shielded their eyes to avoid being blinded by the bright white light, there appeared a dark swirling cloud of sparkling pink smoke in the center of the crowd. Backing away from the swirling fog in fear the people were startled by what they now saw in their presence.

Where the deserters had been now stood four Ahlissan Lancers clad in chainmail and leather armor, the silver griffon emblazoned on their sable tabards. Standing with the Lancers was a bearded Ahlissan Battle-Mage, his crimson robes trimmed in silver and sable fluttered about him in the blowing smoke. The stooped couple had been replaced by a warrior in ebony platemail armor and next to him was a beautiful sorceress her long scarlet curls and deep green robes swirling around her. Even before the smoke of their transformation had dissipated they set upon the slavers with a vengeance. As the two mages made throwing motions with their hands magik webs flew forth from their outstretched palms instantly snaring several of the brigands where they stood. Meanwhile the Lancers and the warrior charged at the closest slavers and with maddening speed disarmed and subdued the several of the ruffians before they knew what hit them.

* * *

Upstairs Leila heard the commotion of the battle and ran to the front door figuring that she could lose herself down by the docks and make good her escape. Throwing up the bar and pulling open the door, Leila was greeted by a contingent of the city guard. They quickly stormed the common room with several going to the upper rooms while the rest headed toward the basement door. One guard quickly grabbed her and began snapping shackles on her wrists. Leila started to berate the guard and protest her innocence when a familiar figure walked up to her; it was the Captain of the Guard, Shawn Buchman.

"Silence, Leila! You know the penalty for slavery and we've caught you in the act." Captain Buchman looked at Leila in disgust. "These people came to you for help and you tried to sell them, despicable." He jerked his thumb towards the door. "Take her outside." Then he headed toward the door to the basement where his men were waiting for him.

* * *

Seeing that the tide of the small battle was quickly turning against him and his fellow slavers, Roland broke from the confusion and headed for the partially open iron door which led down to the docks. Lord Brion looked over and saw Roland heading for the tunnel, the black knight quickly threaded his way through the crowd and came up behind the thin rat faced man. Roland sensing someone behind him turned and fired his small crossbow; Brion however anticipated his shot and ducked under the bow as Roland turned and with his hand and a half sword knocked the crossbow upwards causing the bolt to strike the ceiling.

Throwing the empty bow aside Roland shrieked and reached for the dirk that he wore strapped to his belt. In his madness to escape the rat faced slaver sliced and stabbed wildly at Lord Brion, who easily parried or dodged Roland's clumsy dagger strikes. After a few minutes of this Brion deflected the slaver's thrust and as Roland's arm swung wide the black knight used the opening to hit Roland with a left hook. The power of the blow lifted Roland off of his feet and knocked him into the wall behind. Looking down at the now unconscious slaver and with disgust Lord Brion turned and went back to the melee which was beginning to die down.

* * *

"Don't wait on me! Get that door open and move down there now!" Captain Buchman commanded his men.

By the time the city guard had charged their way down the rickety wooden stair they were greeted by the sight of the slavers sitting in small groups surrounded by whirling green force rings holding the brigands in place. Captain Buchman walked up to the warrior in the black platemail and bowed his head.

"It would seem that you left very little for us to do my Lord."

Lord Brion looked at his old military friend, delighted to see him.

"Well, my good Captain you were slow as usual. Can I assume the woman upstairs was too much for you?" The two laughed at the joke and exchanged a strong hand-clasp as they looked over the slavers.

"I'm sure the King will give this scum the rope for sure." said the Captain as he glowered at the slavers.

"Yes but they can wait good Captain. Have your men assist these people upstairs and let's get them some proper food and healers to tend to them." With a wave of his hand and a few barked orders Captain Buchman's guards moved into action.

"My Lord, Paragon Astinos was right behind us with several priests and some caretakers from another mission. They will have these people tended to before daybreak."

"Excellent work as always Captain." satisfied that the immigrants and refugees were being taken care of satisfactorily Brion looked around for Eryca. The knight saw her in a far corner helping a mother who had several little ones with her; he made his way over to her through the throng of people.

"How may I assist you Ladies?" the knight said as he approached the two women who were packing the children's things into a large basket from where they had been camped in the corner.

The woman looked up and upon seeing the knight immediately went down on a knee, her eyes cast downward. Brion immediately knelt in front of the woman and taking her hands in his own, asked her to look at him which she did, hesitantly.

"Please tell me, your name and where you are from good lady?" he asked his tone gentle.

"My name is Alma, kind sir, and my husband Hoel brought us here to escape the Great Kingdom. He heard that there was opportunity to be had in the old Southern Province and we came seeking it."

"There is that and more Alma but here in Ahlissa we do not kneel to other men. Now please, stand and allow me to assist you."

Upon hearing Brion's kind words Alma stood and through sudden tears said that she had not seen her Hoel since he had left to find work two days earlier. Lord Brion assured the woman that he would dispatch several of the city guard to find him and tell Hoel of his family's situation. Once he had calmed Alma, he and Eryca helped her finish packing her belongings into the large basket and watched as she headed upstairs, her two children following her. As he turned to Eryca he could clearly see anger darken her usually bright emerald eyes.

"These slavers disgust me! I am sickened at how one being can do this to another."

"I agree my Lady, a few of the southern nations still turn a blind eye to it and of course the wild humanoid areas are always willing to allow the buying and selling of human slaves. Occasionally, slavers try to capture our people like this" he waved his hand at the scene before them "but we have always managed to stop them."

"Please forgive me my Lord; I should not have shown my anger at these wretches." Eryca's face softened as she tried to get her anger under control. Looking up at her future husband she saw a smile on his face as he gazed at her.

"Why do you smile my Lord?" Eryca asked him, her eyebrow rising in a quizzical look.

"You, my Lady, amaze me. Only one as gracious you would feel bad about expressing anger towards the worst that humanity has to offer. You are much more forgiving than I." he replied still smiling at her.

"Well I would hope that my graciousness would be one of my many qualities that you love." she said demurely as she stepped closer to him.

"Oh it is my Lady but as you said, only one of many." he teased as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

* * *

The young couple was the last to finally emerge from the cellar and they were greeted by the sight of the common room full of people being feed and cared for by Astinos and his healers as a roaring fire burned in the large fireplace. Aizantius, the hood of his Battle-Mage's robes raised against the storm, made his way in through the door and across the room to them.

"My Lord and Lady, I report that all is well and good. All of the slavers from this location are in custody and being taken to the dungeons."

"How about their ship Aizan, how did we fare there?" inquired Lord Brion about the other half of their mission tonight.

"It went well my Lord; the Harbormaster was not taken in by their forged manifest. The Captain's men had no trouble locating and taking the slavers' ship. They found the hold two-thirds full, it seems this group was to be the last."

Lord Brion nodded his thanks to Aizantius who with a bow of his head left the young couple to attend to other business. Brion and Eryca circulated among the crowd gathered in the common room and did their best to help feed and address the concerns of the people. Many were worried about loved ones, to address this Brion had a guardsman take down the names of the missing and assured them that the city guard would check the captives from the slavers' ship and the other missions in the city for their missing loved ones.