Kingmaker's End

The next morning, his spells restored, Hildraft placed an Obscuration on the Crystal; a defence against any scrying attempts by the frustrated Fae Mhor.

The overnight discussions had eventually panned out into a resolution to return to Hildraft's home city of Kobur to seek out a mage of sufficent power to break the enchantment carried within the Kingmaker crystal. While the chances of finding such a one among the Elves were perhaps higher, the chance of trouble if they took the crystal to Belamir was also higher.

So Hildraft used a Sending to communicate with Ivhold Crusher, informing him that a matter of great import had come up and that a representative of the Clan Bogadun should meet them at the first abandoned waytower outside the current bounds of Kobur's control, in 30 days' time.

The Questers then headed south, travelling the mountain passes through the abandoned orc-lands and south into the terriitory of the dwarves.

After many uneventful days, they reached the tower. Clearly, someone was here before them; a thin column of smoke rose from the upper floor, and a faint smell of frying bacon drifted to their nostrils.

Leaving the his companions a safe distance out, Sack circled around the tower, scouting for signs of ambushes, traps, spies or trouble generally. What he found were the tracks of four dwarves, very recent, approaching the tower from the east. Returning, he oiled the door-hinges and sneaked inside, checking out the lower floor without alerting the occupants. Assured that no ambush awaited - on the lower floor at least - he beckoned the rest to join him.

Even had they attempted stealth, this would have been conspicuous; Surya and Hildraft were hardly dressed for sneaking. A voice called down from the upper floor: "Who's there?"

Hildraft called back in dwarvish, and a young dwarf, armoured in mail and carrying a sandwich, appeared at the top of the stairs. He introduced himself as Glud Crusher, and led them up the stairs to the tower room. Hunched over a cook-fire, reading a copy of the Journals of Elverandil was another dwarf, and two more sat on the window-sill, eating. Standing and turning, the erstwhile chef revealed himself to be none other than Grispere Crusher, Hildraft's distant cousin and maker of the eponymous Hammer.

He looked at Hildraft, Sack and Surya - whom he knew of course - and shook his head wryly. "You people never cease to surprise me," he said with a grin.

Hildraft began to attempt to explain that they had something that needed magical investigation without giving away what it was, and Grispere began to look worried. "You've got hold of something pretty damned dangerous, haven't you?" he said worriedly. Hildraft continued explaining that the ...something.. . had an enchantment on it that could wreck the entire world's balance, and only a mage of surpassing power could deactivate it. Grispere looked puzzled. "I gave you a hammer that could destroy any magical item in the world - what more do you want?" he said.  Hildraft unwrapped the Kingmaker and held it up.

"Doesn't look like much," commented Grispere, "I can't imagine that thing posing the dangers you describe; unless," he ended facietiously, "you had got hold of, of, a Sacncrist Crystal or something."   Hildraft grinned manaically, and Grispere blanched. "You're joking," he stammered. "Oh, hells. You found the Kingmaker."

Grispere now understood the problem. "Of all the clans, Clan Saemir has the reputation of the most magical knowledge," he said thoughtfully. "Since the coup, they have aligned rather more closely with Bogadun than before. I know a few Saemir I could speak to, try and find someone to tackle this one." With warnings about discretion ringing in his ears, he set off back to Kobur.

True to his word, two days later he was back. With him was a much older dwarf, robed and bearded, bearing a staff, who he introduced as Darson Saemir, mage of good repute and known honour. The mage was understandably curious as to why he had been brought here, and made it quite clear at the outset that if the magic he was required to perform was against the interests of Kobur or the dwarves, it was nothing doing.

Hildraft assured him that it wasn't, and proceeded to explain the problem. Darson was obviously deeply moved to have a Sancrist in his hands, and readily agreed to take the task on; as he said, "I feel it may well be my duty to disable this thing." "What will you need?" asked Hildraft. "Peace and quiet to work, and a bacon sandwich," answered the wizard. The Questers and the dwarves retreated to the lower floor to start cooking and left him to it.

While this had been going on, Sack had been scouting back down the track from the tower along the trail of Grispere and Darson, to see if they'd been followed. Ghosting along, silent and shadowed in his chaemeleon cloak, he soon caught sight of movement, and worked around the flank of what turned out to be four dwarves, armed in light leather, lurking on the trail. Swiftly and silently he grabbed and stunned two; the last two he failed to surprise, but was able to intimidate into surrender. Roping them together, he returned them to the tower, where he amused himself creating ingenious rope bindings to keep them in place until someone who spoke dwarvish came along to question them.

When Grispere appeared, he and Hildraft queried them, and - after some gentle persuasion combining drawn swords, scissors waved near beards, and a seven-foot bear, extracted the fact that they had been sent by Clan Hastein to follow Darson, to find out why he'd left the city for the first time in two hundred and fifty years. They were very insistent that observation was all they were there for; there was no question of them being there to cause harm. After a search revealed no weapons of an assassin's kind, the Questers concluded that this was probably true.

Ten hours passed. Then, suddenly, from the upper tower, a deep, reasonant pulse of sound blasted out, along with a brief flash of light. Going cautiously to investigate, they discovered Darson, slumped against the wall in exhaustion, and the crystal now dark and quiescent. "It's done," gasped the wizard. "You can break it safely now." He gathered himself a bit. "Strange though," he continued, "From what you said, I expected it to be active; but the magic it was powering was suspended when you lifted it from its' plinth." The Questers glanced at each other, suspicions confirmed. The Tormtor had lied to them!

Now, at the last moment, Hildraft hesitated; and then he heard Surya idly speculating on whether Tormentor could perhaps give him power over the Sancrist, and - fearing the results of his friend, increasingly linked with the dark and evil swords he carried, controlling the Crystal - lifted Grispere's Hammer and struck.

A single blow was enough. The crystal seemed to shatter all at once, and for a split instant, the shards seemed to hang in space around the void where the crystal's centre had been. The whole world seemed to stop; to vanish - and then to return, changed in some fundamental way. And then the slivers and chunks and dust of what had been the Kingmaker scattered across the stone floor with a silvery tinkle, and the crystal was gone.

The group gathered up the fragments, each keeping five of the largest to himself. Darson was delighted to be offered one as well, and stated that he regarded himself well paid for his efforts. The remaining pieces and the dust were carefully gathered and packed away. Darson and Grispere bade the group good luck, and turned to the journey back to Kobur. The companions turned their way north again, in the hopes of reclaiming the city of Vorsand won from the Dragon.

After nearly two months' travel, the companions reached the mouth of the Versate Pass, the valley leading through the Engeror Mountains to the Dragon's capital city of Vorsand, scene of the Dragonslaying.

Clearly visible were the signs of the passage - moderately recently, ten or so days ago - of a sizable army. Examining the tracks and general jetsam in its' wake, Sack was able to deduce that the great majority of the soldiers were human. Surya and Hildraft looked at each other. "Gozan." said Surya.

They made their way up the pass, to within sight of the city. Smoke hung in a pall over the outer city, now almost totally ruined, and a huge army - twenty thousand strong at least - was drawn up around the inner citadel; Varkar's palace that was. The companions marvelled for a moment at the skill of its' leader; patched together in the turbulent aftermath of the Dragonslaying, drawn south through the Desolation by the lure of the Kingmaker, ranged against the forces of the Elves, then retreating unexpectedly out of the Desolation again - and yet still more than ready for action, organised, disciplined and well-supplied, and with the bulk of several siege engines rising from the ranks. Little wonder that Varkar had made Gozan his first General.

Manning the walls against them ("My walls!" muttered Surya), were several hundred peculiar creatures. Humanoid, tall and gaunt to extreme, pale-skinned and angular; dressed in baroque and ornate armour and wrappings. The companions eyed them through Surya's spyglass, and reached the conclusion that these were Githaynki; extraplanar warriors similar to the Githzerai mercenaries they'd encountered in Erelhei-Cinlu. Once enslaved by the mind flayers, the ancestors of the Githyanki had developed attributes in secret that enabled them to break the empire of their masters and escape - psionic powers of their own, and a dreadful hate. Now their descendants, split into two warring subraces - the Githyanki and the Githzerai - hunt mind flayers across the planes of existence. The Githyanki live on the Astral plane, and seldom visit the material planes. An incursion in such numbers had to have a significant cause.

The group took stock, and decided that, in the light of their last encounter with Gozan Vraspan, it might be worth having a conversation with him. They therefore set out to bluff their way through the army to the command tent. Sigred, digging through his pack, unearthed a genuine Dragonarmy tabard, saved from his days of working undercover in the Dragonrealms. Hildraft, aiming for confusion, donned his green tabard from Erelhei-Cinlu. Then they rode through the army and bluffed their way in to see the General.

The guards led them to the command tent, and suggested they wait for the General to have time to see them. "And get down off that horse," grunted the sergeant in charge. Hildraft bristled; "Why should I?" he demanded. The sergeant gestured to the embattled citadel; "because you make an excellent target," he said casually. "Oh." said Hildraft, and the party dismounted.

After a while, Gozan Vraspan himself emerged from the command tent. He eyed the group and chuckled. "I don't believe it," he said, "You again."

They discussed the current situation with him; clearly, though both he and they wanted into the citadel, at the moment neither were getting anywhere, and there was no need for immediate hostilities. Gozan's opinion was that the Githyanki were for some reason looking for something within the citadel, rather than moving in and setting up shop permanently. He offered the group the hospitality of his camp and ringside seats for the siege; and finally, the agreement was reached that he would take the city of Vorsand and the bulk of the gold - which he needed to pay his army - and the group would keep the best cut of the magic, which they had already sequestered in Varkar's own vault before leaving along with some of the more portable monetary treasures.