Storms Over The Narrows
Dahrenport buzzed with life, even as the sun set. The port city rested easily in a bay on the eastern coast of Tarrine. Pernden breathed in the smells of salt and the catch of the day as they swirled in an ebb and flow with the sea breeze. The harbor bells rang as the remaining fisher boats entered port. Dockworkers hurried about, running from one ship to another, unloading the final boats.
Pernden found his surroundings fascinating. One of his favorite things about being a Griffin Guardian was the travel. As he experienced the buzzing port city, he realized most of his travels had been entirely predicated on the whereabouts of a goblin or orc threat.
He reflected on the argument around the war room table at the Grand Corral. Had the Guard become calloused to the people of Tarrine? They had been fighting for so long on the front lines, isolated from the rest of the peoples, perhaps they had forgotten what they were fighting for. When their mission was over, Pernden would suggest squadrons do rotations in cities and towns across Tarrine to remind themselves of the people for whom they fought.
His eyes landed on a familiar face. Nera’s bright smile stood in contrast to her ebony skin as she shone radiantly in the evening colors. Pernden’s heart skipped a beat. He was surprised at her fairness, not because she lacked beauty but because it was often overlooked beside her skill as one of the Griffin Guard’s elite Talon Squadron warriors. Her dark brown eyes, which had been lost in the wonder of Dahrenport, met his, and she crinkled her nose at him.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Pernden said quickly, shaking away his daze. “I was just ... thinking.”
“Isn’t it beautiful,” Nera said, getting lost in the view of the sea again. “You forget sometimes there is more life than just that found in Whitestone.”
Pernden smiled at her words. He was glad to know he wasn’t the only one with such thoughts, and he couldn’t have hoped for anyone better to have said it. In addition to being an extremely capable guardian, Nera was also sound of mind and full of wisdom. Pernden trusted her judgment above anyone else’s in his squadron.
“I’ve procured us an audience with the master of the fishermen’s guild here in Dahrenport,” she stated, leaving her eyes on the rarely experienced view. “He’s waiting for us at the tavern by the northside docks.”
“Let’s not keep him waiting, then.”
Pernden wheeled on his heel but stopped when Nera’s hand grabbed his. Her gentle grasp held him captive in the sunset. She gazed across the bay, soaking in the view as long as she could.
She finally released his hand, whirled into a determined pace, and said, “Alright, then. Let’s see to this guild master.”
They fell into step together naturally, a result of marching drills during their trainee period at the Corral. Some of the young dockworkers—never having seen members of the Griffin Guard—gawked as they passed. Two boys grabbed poles and started sword fighting, only to get scolded by their father a moment later. Nera laughed at the poor boys, who quickly returned to work.
The tavern at the northside docks was well lit from the inside and easy to spot in the evening dim, even without a sign or designation on the old building itself. The noise coming from inside, in contrast with the well-quieted docks, indicated clearly to the two guardians they’d arrived at the right place. They stood out as they entered, since the tavern was filled wall-to-wall with fishermen, who erupted with excited conversation at the sight of them.
“I guess our guild master was eager to share this glorious opportunity of his,” Nera muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Word had gotten out, and every fisherman in the northside docks had rushed to the tavern for a good look at the visiting guardians—a rare treat, indeed.
A rather hairy-armed man with a bushy mustache waved them to his corner table. Nera nodded his way and fell in line behind Pernden as they waded through the crowd. Fishermen eyeballed them from all sides. Some shook their hands, thanking the guardians for what they do. Pernden merely shook the hands and nodded, uncertain how to respond to such greetings.
When they got to the table, the big man’s mustache bobbed with his giant grin. Another man, who Pernden had not seen earlier, sat next to the mustached man. With his light armor and less sunbaked skin, the second man didn’t look much like a fisherman. Pernden and Nera took seats, and before the guild master could get a word out, a couple of barmaids unloaded handfuls of drinks for them. Apparently, everyone wanted to show their appreciation for the guardians. The mustached man shooed them away, looked down at the table full of drinks, and shook his head.
“The fishermen of Dahrenport thank ya fer yer service!” he yelled from behind his bushy mustache. A raucous cheer resounded through the whole place, and Pernden nodded his head and waved his hand in thanks to the good people, who settled into their own conversations around the room.
Pernden turned to the two men. “Thank you for the hospitality. I’ve never ...”
He trailed off as a distraught barmaid eyed the full table, wondering where she might set the next batch of drinks she held precariously.
“I think we have plenty, thank you. Perhaps the fine gentlemen at this next table?” Pernden motioned to a nearby table where the barmaid quickly passed the drinks to some ever thirsty fishermen. She shot a thankful glance back at the guardian, relieved to be done with the balancing act.
“It is our pleasure, Sir Guardian,” the light-armored man said with a nod.
“Ah yes! I met the beautiful Miss Nera,” the mustached man remembered. “But I haven’t met yerself, Captain. I’m Trent Goffer, master of the Dahrenport fishermen’s guild.” His proud words wobbled his mustache. “Oh, and this be Marlon Kirt, dock guard.”
“Mr. Goffer. Mr. Kirt—”
“Oh, Trent be fine!” he cut in. He motioned to Nera to see if she would be offended if he helped himself to one of the many drinks covering their table. She nodded her approval with a scrunched nose and a grin.
“Marlon, for me,” the guard added, also helping himself to a beverage following Nera’s approval.
“Sure, Trent and Marlon. Thank you, truly. I take it Nera has briefed you on the necessary details of our mission here?”
“Yes, yes,” the big guild master leaned in. “Very dangerous task, that is. Goin’ to the Gant Sea Narrows at night. Dahrenport fishermen don’t go there at night. It’s too dangerous fer ships to be out there. Too dark. Treacherous rocks. And death wings!” His whole body shook, and his mustache bristled at the thought.
“Yes. Death wings ...” Marlon nodded, taking a swig from his tankard.
“Death wings?” Nera asked, never having heard of such a thing.
“Giant bats,” Marlon answered. “They are ravenous monsters. They are active at night, flying around the Narrows searching for fish or birds that might have landed for a poorly laid bed. As big as dolphins, they are!”
“Has anyone been out in the Narrows recently?” Pernden asked, grabbing a tankard for himself.
“No,” Trent replied, replacing his quickly emptied glass with a full one. “Like I said, treacherous rocks. Most fishermen don’t get too close to the Narrows. We been fishing here fer generations. Lessons learned.”
“Well, we’ll be looking for a specific island that has a tower on it, or perhaps only ruins of a tower. Our understanding is it was once a wisdom tower for wizards. Our information comes from a mage who met our king. Has anyone seen anything like that?” Pernden asked, hoping for useful information for his squadron.
Marlon and Trent looked at each other. “Well ...,” Marlon started.
“No, no, no,” Trent grumbled. “Not ole Barnett—”
Marlon shushed the guild master, waving him away with one hand and grabbing another glass with the other. “Well, there’s an old man here, named Barnett. I speak with him regularly.”
“Ya mean he talks at ya because yer walking ’round the docks all day, and the old man has nothing to da but tell crazy steries!”
“He’s the only one who’s ever said anything about weird goings-on in the Narrows!” Marlon snapped back, losing some of his well-trained composure.
“Ah, fine then! Let’s invite him aver ta the table, then!” Trent’s stocky body clambered onto his chair, and he shouted over the tavern’s noise. “Oy! Barnett! Barnett! Get aver here! The guardians want ta talk ta ya!”
The tavern hushed into gossipy whispers as the old man maneuvered through the crowd with a soft clicking. He worked his way to their table and reached out a hand as he neared.
“Aver here, Barnett,” Trent’s voice guided him.
The old man stopped next to the table and angled in Trent’s direction. Pernden noticed the old man’s grey eyes and realized he was blind. Nera’s puzzled face mirrored her captain’s, as their hopes for real or useful information slipped away.
Marlon seemed to have much more compassion for the old man. “Barnett, it’s Marlon here.”
“I knows ya. I’m blind, but my ears werk perty gud.”
The old man shook when he talked, gripping his walking stick with white knuckles, trying to keep his balance. Pernden thought the man a pitiful sight and offered him his chair.
“Please, take my seat,” he said.
The old man looked surprised at the guardian’s kindness, his wrinkled face showing every ounce of gratitude. He gratefully accepted.
“Hello, Captain,” he said.
“Hello, Mr. Barnett,” Pernden replied, unsure how the man knew he was the captain. “How did you ...”
“Officer and gentleman,” the old man quipped, answering Pernden’s question before he had finished asking. “I s’pose if yer talkin’ ta me, yer wantin’ ta knows ’bout the Narrows.”
“Yes, sir. Anything you can tell us would aid our mission greatly.”
The old man beamed at being addressed as “sir.”
“I was thinking you should tell them about the lights,” Marlon suggested.
“Aye.” Barnett agreed, a far-off look in his blind eyes. “See, I wasn’ always blind. Was a time I wasn’. But long ago, when I was a young’n, I tooked my daddy’s boat to the Narrows—fer a girl, of course. Mind ya, not as perty as the one sittin’ next ta ya. If she was, I mighta got myself inta even more trouble,” he mumbled.
Pernden turned to Nera, completely baffled by the old man. Nera only smiled back, not sure herself.
“Anyhow,” Barnett continued. “I heared tale of an old wizard’s tower that was filled with treasures, see. I wanted ta get her somethin’ special. Some kind a’ treasure. I loved her! Oh, I did ...” He mumbled under his breath, again. “Anyhow, I found it, I did—the tower. But, the Narrows are danger’us at night. I couldn’ control my daddy’s boat. And anyhow, I’da died if I tried ta get inta the tower. Lightnin’ flashed! And fire! Red and blue, green and orange. All colors a’ light flashin’! I seen the tower blowed up, and one a’ the red lightnin’s came right at me! Knocked me undone. When I waked, by some miracle, I was floatin’ just outside the bay. But I was blind. A friend a’ mine was in his boat with his daddy, and they camed and helped me get back inta port.”
“Mr. Barnett, I think this tower is the one we are looking for. Is there some way you could help us find its location?” Pernden was excited to finally have some information for their mission.
“I’m not so gud at maps no more.” The old man let out a raspy laugh at the younger man’s excitement. Nera couldn’t help but snicker. Barnett easily grabbed a full tankard from the table, took a big swig, and continued. “I can tell ya the route I taked, and hopefully, it helps ya.”
“That would be much appreciated,” Pernden conceded.
The old man told them how he had followed the Narrows, starting from the north coastline of the bay. He had traveled for hours circling, winding, and navigating as close to each island as he possibly could without wrecking his boat.
Apparently, he had nearly wrecked himself on multiple occasions. But love is love, after all, and he was already wrecked.
He couldn’t say exactly where he found the small island with the wisdom tower, but he knew if they followed the Narrows going east, certainly a squadron of the famous Griffin Guard would find it. That is, assuming there was anything left of the tower.
While the information they gathered from the people of Dahrenport wasn’t entirely concrete, the renewed sense of purpose for the young guardians was already worth the trip’s price. They were thrilled to see those people living their lives in freedom. Their liberty was what the guardians were fighting for and why they sacrificed so much.
A massive storm rolled heavily off the sea from the south and barraged the Talon Squadron as it flew under the cover of night. Lightning streaked across the sky at unpredictable variables, and the raging winds pressed hard against the determined troop. The griffin formation bobbed and weaved as gusts forced them off their direct course.
Griffins produce natural oils for their feathers that whisk the rain free with every flap of their wings. That brought little comfort to the guardians, however, whose armors were drenched and reins slick. They were the toughest of the tough, though, the hardiest of all their stock. Though cracks of thunder might downcast the hearts of other men, Talon Squadron remained stoic; their vision unwavering.
A bolt of lightning streaked closer than one of the guardians liked, and he tightened himself to the formation. They had been flying over the Gant Sea Narrows, headed east, as old blind Barnett had instructed, for some time. They still hadn’t found the lone island with the tower. Pernden doubted there would be a tower to find. Perhaps they would find some ruins, but in the deluge, it was hard to make out any details on the islands below.
Nera flew nearby. “Captain, we need to fly lower. It’s impossible to see from here, and the storm is going to get worse before it gets better!”
Pernden knew she was right. Their elevated altitude gave them a stealthier approach to obscure them from anyone who might be waiting. But it was a difficult task to see the islands below. Though battle-hardened and tough as they come, the griffins could not hold up forever under such conditions either. He patted the neck of his griffin thoughtfully. He and Rocktail had flown through storms before, but this one raged with the heart of the sea.
“Alright!” Pernden yelled out right after another bang of thunder. He signaled to the Talon Squadron to lower their formation.
The maneuver would have been a sight to behold, had it not been for the raging storm, as the skilled squadron smoothly dove into a pattern they had performed countless times. They leveled out at a lower altitude, able to see more clearly, even as the storm continued, unrelenting. Their formation spread again as each looked for remnants that might have been a tower.
Rocktail roiled uncomfortably, sensing something Pernden did not. A streak of grey-black flesh blasted in from out of nowhere, nearly knocking Pernden out of his saddle. Rocktail screeched a violent warning. As Pernden regained his seat and looked out over his squadron, he realized they had made a mistake.
“Death wings!” Nera yelled.
What seemed like a hundred large bat creatures flapped in mass chaos, enveloping the guardian squadron. Griffins outstretched razor-sharp talons and ripped at the monstrous bats’ flesh, tearing at whatever they could sink their claws into. Guardians swung swords, lopping off grey-skinned wings, forcing some of the bats into twisting tailspins toward the rocks below. Others jabbed at the monsters with spears. In the flurry, Talon Squadron had broken formation to take on individual assailants as best they could. Between the chaos of the battle and the storm, it was hard to see even the nearest of their fellow guardians.
Ba-boom!
A massive lightning bolt struck one of the nearby islands, blasting with an intense light and crack of thunder. It seemed to stunt the death wings’ onslaught as they skittered wildly in response. The momentary reprieve gave Pernden an idea and spurred him into action, once more commanding his guardians.
“Fly into the storm!” he yelled. “Fly into the storm!”
Instantly, the guardians of Talon Squadron rocketed through the air flying high into the storm. The giant bats raced after them, hungry for the unusual meat.
Kra-kow!
Another strike sent the monsters into a frenzy. They seemed to hover in place for a while, deciding whether the meat of that crazy prey was worth facing their archnemesis, the storm. Another flash of lightning made the choice for them.
The angry horde flew chaotically back down toward the Narrows. Some nipped at others. Some made swift dives for the ocean, hoping for fish. And still others crashed upon their wounded brethren to feast on the no longer viable members of the pack.
Once sure the monsters had relinquished their chase, Pernden looked around to his fellow guardians. No one had been lost in the vicious attack, but some nursed bloody slices. Meanwhile, some of the griffins nuzzled at savage scratches and bites the monsters had gotten in.
This could have been a lot worse, Pernden thought to himself.
He stroked the neck feathers on Rocktail, who did not seem pleased about the ambush.
Pernden flew alongside Nera, who was leaning forward, looking ahead. She turned to him, a relieved smile etching her face.
“Well, I think we found our tower,” she said.
Pernden turned his surprised gaze to where she pointed, some distance below and farther to the east than the horde of death wings. Sure enough, there it was—not a whole tower, but a tower nonetheless.
“Thank you,” Pernden said under his breath.
With a quick signal to the others, he led them onward through the storm.
Talon Squadron landed silently under the cover of the pouring rain. Only Pernden, Nera, and Tozer landed on the small island with the tower. The others put down softly on nearby islands, alert and ready to fly at a moment’s notice should anything go awry.
Tozer took point and led the younger guardians toward the old wisdom tower. He was the eldest member of Talon Squadron. In fact, few had ever made it to his age and still been part of the elite group. Pernden appreciated the man’s wealth of knowledge and experience and often looked to him for counsel on missions. Tozer skillfully navigated them around pieces of rubble and half-fallen walls, while the other two kept their heads on swivels, looking for any trouble.
What was left of the tower stood at an awkward angle and looked as though it were at home in the terrible storm. Many of the massive stone pieces the guardians weaved around were charred, lining up with the story Barnett had told them. To Pernden’s estimation, that place had seen an epic battle indeed. He wondered at what kind of magic the place had witnessed as he looked up at the looming, decrepit tower before them. Who knew what kind of wizard power had been used there?
A sound halted them. Tozer’s commanding fist signaled for them to hold fast. The rain continued to fall in sheets, and the waves crashed against the many islands, while the three listened intently.
“Perhaps a loose stone from the aging tower finally gave way,” Tozer whispered back to the others after a long pause.
Satisfied with the answer and trusting Tozer’s experience while also acutely on guard, the three pressed forward toward the tower. Tozer reached the tower door and began the work of unlocking it, as Pernden and Nera swept to either side, clearing the area. Pernden rounded the corner of the tower, looking it up and down. Higher up, the tower had been totally blown open by the force of some massive energy he could hardly imagine. The tower had clearly been built sturdy, as the bottom half remained intact. He turned and rejoined Tozer at the same time as Nera, their movements fluid and well rehearsed.
There was a heavy clunk in the door, and Tozer nodded to them that he had gotten it unlocked. Without saying a word, the three formulated their plan. Tozer would swing open the enormous doors. Pernden would slide in first rounding to the right with his sword at the ready, clearing his area. Nera would round to the left to fend off any attackers with her spear. And Tozer would come flying in behind them with his trident to round up the rest.
The three-man squad executed the maneuver to perfection. To their relief, they found the foyer of the great tower empty. A great streak of lightning illuminated the foyer briefly, and Nera noticed a candelabra with a flint spark lighter next to it. Tozer grabbed a torch from the wall, and the two ignited them to light the interior.
Pernden was drawn immediately to a large table in the middle of the room which had scrolls and parchments thrown all about. He looked up from the center of the room to the zig-zagging stairways leading to the upper levels of the tower. Rooms and nooks were nestled all around the exterior walls, and from his vantage point, it was hard to guess how many there might be. As the glow of the candles and multiple torches began to illuminate the tower, Pernden was struck by the disheveled tomes, scrolls, and parchments that were strewn about.
The place had been ransacked, to say the least. Judging by the vast number of shelves around them, it was clear the place had been a wisdom tower. Pernden had heard tales of such places, where mages came and brought together their collective wisdom of the magical arts. He had even heard wizards were the ones who originally established these places long ago. He knew of the locations of only a few active wisdom towers—actively inhabited by mages, anyway. He had never actually seen one in person.
Tozer snapped his young captain back to the present as he handed him a blazing torch.
“Right,” Pernden nodded. “We’re looking for a mirror. The writings that King Garron procured called it the Alkhoren Mirror. To this point, we don’t know its magics, so be careful. The king believes it’s vital to our efforts against the rising threat of Drelek. We must find it.”
Tozer studied the ancient stairways while his captain spoke. “I should start on the third level,” he offered.
“Good,” Pernden permitted. “Nera, you take this level, and I’ll take the second level. If we can’t manage to find it, we’ll climb higher. I’d prefer we didn’t have to, though. The tower has far more damage higher up.”
Without another word, the three split up to search the tower. The stairs creaked under the weight of their footsteps. Tozer continued to climb as Pernden began his search of the second level. He followed the shelf-lined walls to the first alcove, only to find a mess of parchments that whoever had ransacked the place hadn’t cared about. He moved on to the first of many rooms with its door splayed open.
Nothing here, either, he thought.
The process continued, as he found rooms for all sorts of magecraft. There were rooms for quiet study. Rooms for what seemed like the practice of magical arts. Rooms for potion making. And of course, he found rooms for sleeping. The old wisdom tower must have been quite the sight in its prime. Pernden could only imagine. He leaned over the railing in the center, not surprised to see Tozer pop his head over the third level railing to his left.
“Anything?”
“Nothing, Captain. The King was sure the mirror is here? This place looks like it was picked clean, at least of anything of value.”
“Seems that way to me, too,” Pernden nodded.
Nera slid into view below them.
“I’ve found a locked door down here. I almost missed it in the dark. It’s in a back corner behind the hearth.”
Pernden and Tozer glanced at each other before making their way to the stairs. If they were lucky, the mages may have stowed away some of their most prized possessions in a hidden vault in light of the attack. Maybe the mirror would be among them.
Tozer set to work on the hidden door.
“I only just noticed it. I was illuminating this ornate banner and happened to notice the hidden door on the edge here.”
“Hidden back here, the attackers may have thought the banner worth nothing and never noticed the door behind. We may be in luck.” Pernden said.
After a click and a long groan of the hinges, Tozer looked back, a glint of excitement in his eyes. The three stepped into the room, and in the light of their torches, they saw a singular item, standing as tall as any man and wrapped in a heavy cloth. Pernden followed the binding with his hands and untied the knot that held the heavy cloth together. He pulled the cloth away to reveal the Alkhoren Mirror.
The mirror was an ornate piece, its frame beautifully crafted. Magical runes etched the frame on all sides. The blazing torches reflected brightly off the pristine mirror.
“I think we’ve found it,” Pernden stated and smiled his relief at their luck to the others.
They quickly rewrapped it in its protective cloth. Pernden and Tozer each pulled out an extra cloth and rope they had brought. They had no way of knowing what condition they might find the mirror in and wanted to be able to wrap it well for the return journey to Whitestone. After wrapping the Alkhoren Mirror, they worked together to lift and carry the massive piece.
Nera, who had been holding her torch high so the other two had good visibility, noticed a long shining item in the corner of the small room. They hadn’t noticed it before, but it was the only thing left in the room. As she neared the shiny object, she realized it was a spear covered in ornate scribblings and runes. It had a small parchment attached to it that she untied and read to herself.
Santoralier – Lightning Rider.
The mages had marked the artifact and clearly thought it the only other piece worthy of being hidden with the mirror in their haste. She looked the spear up and down once more. It was a fine weapon, and as it did not appear to have a master at present, it seemed quite the waste for it to remain in such a dank room. She slid her fingers along the ornate scribblings and a small yellow stone centered on the spear. She could feel a light energy flowing through the whole thing—a fine weapon, indeed.
She grabbed the spear, Santoralier, and sauntered out to join her friends. Though they had found the mirror, the raging storm was a stark reminder their mission was not over. They would head back to Dahrenport for some rest and embark the next day on the long journey back to Whitestone.