Category: The Riches of Xulthar

Roderick

At long last, they arrived at Xulthar.

The ruins first appeared like a mirage against the blazing desert. As they drew near, however, the shimmering image became solid, and the grandeur of the abandoned city became impossible to deny. The ancient, weathered stone walls stood as a testament to Xulthar’s forgotten might. Portions had fallen into rubble, but the gate was still intact, the massive arch standing like a portal to some mythic realm. Beyond it stretched a wide avenue lined with colonnades of marble pillars, each one more than thrice the height of a man.

“So this is Xulthar,” Laria whispered, her soft voice mingling with the wind.

“Aye,” said Roderick as he eyed the massive gate.

He dismounted and drew his sword, as if daring the evil forces within the fallen city to come out and challenge him. None did. The ruins were as silent as weathered bones. If any fell beast or eldritch creature lurked within, they did not haunt the walls.

Laria dismounted behind him, and together they passed through the gate and into the city. The footsteps of their camel echoed on the dusty cobblestones. Near the gate, they found a well with a large stone watering trough, and using their waterskins, they drew for themselves and their thirsty mount.

“Please, Master Roderick,” Laria urged. “I can draw the water.”

“So can I,” he answered gruffly, ignoring her protestations.

Even working together, it took nearly an hour before the camel’s thirst was fully sated. Leaving the dumb beast tied to a stunted tree in the courtyard of an abandoned caravanserai, they embarked together to explore.

All around them, the ruins stood as silent testaments to the ravages of time. Laria clung to Roderick’s arm and stared about in wonder.

“It’s magnificent,” she whispered. “But it’s all so haunting.”

“Aye, that it is. Take my dagger and get behind me. Who knows what evil we’ll find in this place?”

She took the proffered weapon and obeyed, staying so close behind him that she practically walked on his heels. He considered leaving her with the camel, but it seemed unwise to separate from each other.

As they ventured deeper into the city, they came to a massive central plaza, now desolate and partially covered in sand. Roderick imagined he could hear the echoes of merchants from every corner of the world, hawking their exotic wares. Or was that just his imagination? Their voices seemed to whisper in the wind, as if the ghost of the city’s glory was still present.

“Master, do you feel that?” Laria asked. “I sense a strange presence in this place.”

“The curse of the coin of Xulthar,” Roderick muttered, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.

Laria frowned. “What do you mean?”

“This place was once the center of trade and commerce for the known world,” he told her. “Now, it is haunted by the same sorcerous evil that has cursed all the coinage that issued from here.”

“The same curse that brought about the downfall of your family?”

“Aye.”

Laria paused. “I don’t know much about money, Master Roderick. I have never owned any coin in my life. But I do not like this place. It feels… as if something heavy is weighing down my soul.”

Roderick nodded, his eyes scanning the empty plaza for danger. “You sense it well, Laria. The coin of Xulthar weighs heavily on those who bear it. Many have been corrupted and consumed by its curse.”

“And you believe the curse started here?”

“Aye,” he confirmed. “Although the city lies in ruins, it was doubtless minted here, though whether by men or magic, none can say. But I think it must have been magic, for according to the legends, all the inhabitants of Xulthar perished in a single day.”

Laria tensed her grip on Roderick’s arm. A dust devil swirled through the plaza ahead, and he watched it warily, ever on the lookout for danger. The plaza lay still, without a single soul in sight, but something seemed to lurk in the shadows beyond his vision, by the ruins on the plaza’s edge.

The sun beat down on the two travelers. Up ahead, Roderick could make out a massive stone structure looming at the far end of the plaza—a temple of such magnificent size that it seemed to have been hewn from the heart of a very mountain. They advanced cautiously toward it, scanning the surrounding ruins for any sign of hidden danger. But the only sound to break the silence was their own soft footsteps on the sandy ground.

Somehow, Roderick knew that this temple was the final destination of his quest. For good or for ill, his fate would be decided here.

Laria suddenly stopped.

“Are you all right?” asked Roderick, his hand on his sword.

“Something is watching us,” she whispered, her eyes darting to the ruins. “I can sense it.”

“Stay behind me,” Roderick muttered, edging closer to the entrance of the temple.

The massive stone doors stood slightly ajar. Roderick drew his sword and slowly pushed them open enough to step inside.

The interior of the temple was shrouded in thick darkness, but as their eyes adjusted, they saw that it was as empty as the plaza. The silence was so complete that the sound of their own breath echoed through the somber and solemn halls.

Roderick’s heart thrummed as he advanced with sword in hand, the echoes of his footsteps sounding thunderous in his ears. He wanted—nay, he needed to learn the truth about the curse that had brought his family to ruin. Keeping that thought in the forefront of his mind, he pressed onward, steeling himself for whatever fate awaited him inside.

Laria

Laria shuddered under the oppressive weight of the darkness inside the temple. The eerie, prickling sensation which she’d felt out in the plaza was ten times worse in here. With each muffled footstep on the dusty stone floor, she felt as if she and Roderick were walking to their doom.

In the center of the temple, beneath an enormous dome, stood a massive altar hewn from a solid block of black marble. Chills ran down Laria’s spine as they approached it. She could feel the presence of something dark and malevolent.

“We shouldn’t be here, Master Roderick,” she said urgently. “Please, let’s—”

Suddenly, the chamber shook with a violent tremor. Laria gasped in fright as a monstrous creature emerged from the shadows between the pillars. Its form changed and shifted, sometimes appearing as a man, sometimes as a monstrous beast.

“Get back!” said Roderick, standing between her and the monster.

But the beast did not charge. Instead, it moved calmly between them and the black altar, as if to shield it from them—or perhaps to shield them from it.

“Leave this place, mortals,” the shapeshifting creature bellowed in a voice that rumbled throughout the temple. “Xulthar holds secrets long forgotten, dark and forbidden knowledge that should never be brought to light.”

Laria peered at the monster. She sensed that this beast had once been a man.

“What are you?” Roderick called to it. “Are you friend or foe?”

The creature’s form shifted and solidified into a human form, confirming Laria’s premonition. His eyes glowed with unearthly light as he spoke.

“I am the high priest of the temple of Xulthar. Many have I thwarted who sought to unlock the power of the black altar. Is that what you seek? The dark and ancient magic that made the name of Xulthar feared throughout the world?”

“No,” Roderick said quickly. “I seek not for power, but to pull it down.”

The priest paused, and the smoke and mist around him slowly dissipated.

“That is well,” he said, his voice softening. “Xulthar was once a city of great power. But its rulers delved into forbidden arts, seeking to unlock the secrets of the gods themselves. Their arrogance was their downfall.”

The priest began to pace, his shadowy form flickering with spectral energy.

“The last king of Xulthar unleashed a calamity that laid waste to the city. In pursuit of immortality, he sacrificed hundreds of human souls upon this altar, unleashing dark powers that slew the remaining inhabitants in a single day. Their forms were twisted by dark magic, transforming them into mindless slaves.”

“Did the king achieve it?” Laria asked. “Immortality, I mean.”

The priest nodded. “Indeed he has—but only within Xulthar’s walls. The city is now cursed, its very foundations infused with dark sorcery. But through the coin of Xulthar, the Dark King’s power and influence has spread throughout the world, enticing men with false promises of power and shaping the course of nations from afar.”

Roderick’s eyes widened. “My father lost everything for speaking openly of the curse.”

“Indeed,” the dark priest replied in an uncanny voice.

“What does the Dark King seek now?” Laria asked, her fear beginning to subside.

“To enslave the world,” the priest answered grimly. “And to undo the bond that chains his immortal form to Xulthar. Now, the stars have nearly aligned for one last sacrifice.”

“One last sacrifice?” Laria asked, a sense of dread welling in the pit of her stomach.

“Yes. All that is needed is to sacrifice a soul that is uncorrupted by money or coin. Then the Dark King’s immortality will transcend Xulthar’s borders, and his evil reign will be unleashed upon the world.”

Laria gasped. “A soul that is uncorrupted by money or coin?” The priest’ s glowing eyes seemed to pierce her as he answered.

“Yes,” he said sadly. “One such as yourself.”

Cold sweat broke out on the back of Laria’s neck. She suddenly felt a strange disconnection from the rest of the room, as if she were an outsider looking in. It was clear to her now why the slaver had sought to bring her to this place: her soul was indeed uncorrupted by wealth or power, for she had never owned anything in her life—not even herself.

“We must do all we can to stop him,” said Roderick, his jaw set. “Can you help us, priest?”

“Nay,” said the priest, “for my will is bound to the Dark King’s, and I cannot so much as lift a finger against him. Even now, my mind and body strain from the effort it takes to hide you from him, and of the thing that I must ultimately ask.”

As if in response, his form shifted and contorted, revealing the grotesque, inhuman monster beneath. The sight of twisted flesh and bone filled Laria with revulsion.

“What do you want from us, priest?” Roderick asked.

The priest bent painfully over, his sinewy muscles straining in silent agony, “To break the curse that binds my will to his, releasing me from this accursed city and freeing my spirit to depart this mortal realm.”

“Y—you want to die?” Laria asked.

“Yes!” the priest shrieked, the sorcerous smoke billowing all around him. “Though my soul be consigned to an eternity of torment, it cannot be worse than my life as an immortal slave. My mind… the Dark King’s will… you cannot possibly imagine…”

“What must we do?” Roderick asked bluntly, cutting his babblings short.

The priest groaned, and the smokey tendrils of his ever-shifting form rose nearly to the cupola of the dome. “You must… you must… sever the heart of Xulthar from…”

At that moment, a sudden tremor made the walls of the temple shake. The priest of the black altar screamed in unholy pain.

“He knows! My will… the Dark King… he knows you are here!”

Roderick grabbed Laria’s hand. “Come!” he shouted. “Let us leave this place!”

She needed no urging. Together, they ran past the ancient pillars that lined the hall. But before they could reach the exit, the heavy stone doors slammed shut of their own accord.

Roderick

As Roderick and Laria skidded to a halt, a deep, cold voice echoed through the shadow-shrouded halls.

“So, Roderick, you have come to try your luck against me,” it boomed. “You are foolish indeed—just like your father.”

The Dark King stepped out of the shadows, his red glowing eyes blazing with bitter mirth. As with the high priest of the black altar, his form was shrouded in smoke and mist, though he did not shift between forms. He had the body of a giant, and towered so high above them that Laria seemed like a small child by comparison. His arms were hidden in the black folds of his cloak, but his hood was pulled back to reveal a face like boiled leather, with a massive, gem-encrusted crown resting upon the top of his hairless head.

“And you,” he said, sneering at Laria. “My precious little sacrifice, a soul oh so pure. Like a pretty little lamb led blissfully to the slaughter, your beloved knight has brought you to me!”

“Stand back!” shouted Roderick, shielding Laria as he raised his sword. But the Dark King only laughed.

“So brave,” he mocked. “But alas, the foe you face is no mere mortal. I have mastered powers beyond your puny comprehension!”

The dust of the temple stirred and formed strange shapes in the air. Seemingly out of the the very stone floor itself, dozens of skeletal warriors rose and drew swords, their bones animated by the darkest sorcery. Roderick’s breath caught in his throat at the grisly sight.

The Dark King pointed at him and Laria with a twisted, deformed finger. “Kill the warrior,” he commanded, “but bring the sacrifice to me, unharmed.”

Roderick did not hesitate. He lunged into an attack, smashing his undead enemies with a determination not to admit defeat. Laria stayed close behind him, out of reach of the creatures’ grasping fingers, and as many tried to grab her found their boney arms shattered by Roderick’s sword.

Roderick’s chest heaved with exertion as beads of sweat flew from his brow. But no matter how many of the creatures fell, even more seemed to take their place. His battle cry echoed through the halls as wave after wave of the undead monstrosities fell like ripened wheat beneath his scything blade. Still, their sheer numbers forced Roderick to fall back. Hope began to fade from his eyes as he realized he could never defeat them all..

“Roderick!” Laria shouted, falling back between the pillars. She gestured to him urgently, and he realized that she was pointing toward a door. He had no idea where it led, but he bellowed and charged like a bull, scattering the skeletal warriors who stood in his way. Within moments, they had reached it, Laria using the dagger to pry the door open while Roderick fought with his back to the wall.

“Hurry!” he urged her as the undead creatures intensified their attack. Behind them, the Dark King laughed at their attempt to escape.

“There!” said Laria, finally getting some leverage. She pried the door open a crack, and Roderick threw it open, covering their rear as she ran down the crumbling stone steps beyond.

The door led to a crypt. For a brief, heartstopping moment, Roderick feared that they had plunged into an even greater peril. But the way to the crypt was clear, though the burning torches along the walls indicated that the place was not unoccupied—or perhaps the torches had been lit by the same sorcery that filled the temple.

Roderick had no time to waste on such trivial matters, though. The way ahead was lit, and that was all that mattered.

Laria dashed ahead of him, through a wooden door that Roderick barred behind them. When he turned, he found that they were indeed in the crypt of the temple, with several large sarcophagi lining the long, dreary chamber. The torches were lit here as well, though when Roderick looked closer he saw that they weren’t torches at all, but large glowing gemstones embedded in the stonework.

“Where do we go now?” Laria asked frantically.

“The catacombs,” he answered as he sheathed his sword. “A city the size of Xulthar must have a veritable maze of them. Surely, the underground tunnels must—”

The sound of pounding fists and hacking axes echoed through the chamber as the Dark King’s minions attacked the door. Laria spun in fright, and with a shared breath of trepidation, they both ran to the opposite end of the chamber, where a dark doorway opened to the catacombs beyond.

Roderick

The air hung heavy with the stench of decay, and the darkness of the catacombs clawed at Roderick’s very soul. He knew that every step might lead them into an ambush, but the inhuman screeching of their pursuers drove him and Laria forward, like rats fleeing from a pack of hungry dogs.

Roderick hoped that the deeper they ventured, the wider the tunnels would diverge, forcing the enemy to disperse. If they came to a dead end and were forced to turn and fight, at least he would not have to face the entire horde.

But what unknown horrors lurked in the forgotten depths of these accursed catacombs?

Every now and again, they passed a glowing gemstone, much like the ones in the crypt. The light was dim, but there were just enough of the sorcerous stones that they never had to run in utter darkness for very long. Roderick did not know what sort of magic infused the stones, but their eerie glow set him ill at ease, knowing that if the lights were already lit, something else was also using them.

“This place is evil,” Laria whispered anxiously behind him.

Roderick was inclined to agree, but they had to press on until they found some way up to the surface. With sword in hand, he stole as swiftly and silently as he could, hoping not to awaken whatever fell creatures lurked in these depths. Trembling with fear, Laria followed close behind.

The tunnels had a winding, maze-like quality to them, and they soon left their pursuers far behind. In the eerie calm that followed, Roderick’s thoughts dwelt on the words of the eldritch priest who guarded the black altar.

There was no doubt in his mind that the Dark King was responsible for the downfall of his house and the disgrace his family had suffered. But it would not be enough to merely defeat him. How could it, when the ruins of Xulthar were so distant that most people doubted the Dark King’s very existence? No—to truly right the wrongs he had suffered, he would seize this Dark King’s riches and use them to restore his name, his position, his wealth, and his honor.

No sooner had the thought entered his heart than the gemstones began to pulsate and throb.

“Roderick!” Laria gasped. “The lights—”

“I see them,” he muttered, guiding her by the hand. The air grew even mustier, and the darkness seemed to close in on them like a living thing. He could hear the faint echo of footsteps in the dark, and he could not tell whether it was their pursuers or something far worse.

Up ahead, he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be sunlight, shining down through a distant shaft. His heart leaped with hope.

“This way,” he said, urging Laria forward. “We—”

Without warning, three undead skeletal warriors lunged from the shadows ahead, their hollow skulls glowing with malevolent energy. Roderick slashed downward, shattering the skull of the first and collapsing it into a heap of bones. With a mighty shout, he surged forward and forced the other two back. In the close quarters of the tunnel, he moved with the skill and ferocity of a seasoned veteran, his mighty thews rippling with every swing of his sword.

“Roderick!” Laria suddenly called out from behind him.

He turned and saw three more undead menaces emerging from the tunnels in their rear. Laria screamed and tried to defend herself with the dagger, but her blows glanced off of them harmlessly. Before Roderick could reach her, the Dark King’s minions grabbed her by her waist and lifted her off of her feet.

“Laria!” Roderick bellowed, his heart surging with rage. He rushed to save her, but three more undead warriors intercepted him from the shadows. Though he hacked them all to pieces, shattering their evil bones, their comrades carried Laria out of his sight.

He ran in hot pursuit, and when three more minions emerged around the corner, he fought with the fury of a cornered beast. Still, with each passing moment, more of them seemed to materialize out of the darkness itself. He roared in berserk frenzy as he carved a path through them, his battle cries echoing through the catacombs.

But it was too late. Laria’s cries faded until he could no longer tell which tunnel they had taken her through. At some silent command from their master, the skeletal warriors fell back into the darkness. The Dark King had no need to waste more minions when his sacrifice had already been secured. Instead, he seemed content to abandon Roderick to whatever deadly horrors lurked in these dank tunnels.

Even so, Roderick pressed forward, striving to retrace the path to the temple. But as he rounded the next corner, a grotesque and twisted creature suddenly appeared. Its eyes glowed malevolently as it lunged at Roderick with its razor-sharp claws.

Roderick lifted his sword just in time to deflect the attack. The beast was so brutal that the fight soon devolved into a contest of sheer strength. Roderick could barely hold his own, but desperation lent him wings, and he fought with the ferocity of a wounded lion.

“For House Valtan!” he shouted as his sword cleaved the beast’s leathery hide, splattering dark blood across the catacomb floor. The beast howled in pain and retreated, leaving the way forward clear.

But the fight was far from over. As Roderick pressed forward through the maze, he encountered many other fell beasts, each more fearsome than the last. They came at him from all sides, claws slashing and teeth gnashing like unspeakable horrors from out of the hellish depths.

His sword flashed in the pulsating light of the gemstones as he hacked and slashed, his blade a blur of blood and steel. Pushed to his physical limits, he fought for his life now, his thews burning with fatigue as the fell beasts’ blows cut deep. But he refused to falter, driven by his determination to reach the black altar before the Dark King made Laria his sacrifice.

His strength almost entirely spent, his armor hanging in tatters all about him, he focused all his efforts on pressing forward, fighting the fell beasts only if absolutely necessary. Around the next bend, he glimpsed the open doorway that connected the temple’s crypt to the underground catacombs. He dashed madly toward it, ignoring the claws that grabbed at his arms and the talons that grasped for his feet.

He stumbled over the threshold and collapsed on the cold stone floor, expecting to meet his doom. But the beasts of the catacombs did not pursue him. Some invisible barrier bound them to the hellish depths, and all they could do was snarl at him from the shadow of the doorway.

For nearly a minute, Roderick struggled to catch his breath. He must have been bleeding from nearly a hundred cuts and wounds. None of them were too serious, though, and he soon recovered enough of his strength to stand. His torn and tattered armor was virtually useless now, but he was alive, and still in fighting shape, if only just barely.

With no time to spare, he took up his sword and dashed up the stairs that led to the black altar, and Laria.

<< Chapter 5 << The Riches of Xulthar >> Chapter 7 >>

Laria

The night air was dry and chill. Laria shivered and tried to pull her robes tighter, but the fabric was too thin to offer much warmth in the cool desert night. The camel plodded along as if unaffected by the breeze, led by Roderick who traveled beside it on foot.

“Please, Master Roderick,” she said, embarrassed. “You should be the one riding.”

“Nonsense, girl,” he said brusquely. “We’ll make better time this way. You wouldn’t last five miles without becoming exhausted.”

“Then why don’t we both ride? Please, Master–“

“I’m not your master,” he snapped at her. “Don’t call me that. And if both of us ride, we’ll tire the camel. He’s already had a long and exhausting day.”

Laria bit her lip. She knew his temper was short, but compared to her last few masters, it felt like he was being soft on her. It was strange to think of him as anything other than her master. Now that she was free, she didn’t know what else to do, how else to define herself.

They traveled in silence for a few minutes before Roderick spoke again. “Are you cold, girl?”

She nodded, grateful for the change in subject.

Roderick took off his cloak. “Here,” he said, holding it out to her.

Laria hesitated, not sure if she should accept it. “Thank you, Master Roderick,” she said at last, slipping the cloak over her shoulders.

“I told you not to call me that,” he muttered under his breath.

Laria ignored the comment and wrapped the cloak tighter around her small frame. She felt a strange sense of comfort wearing his cloak, as if she was enveloped in his protection. She wondered what it would be like to be wrapped up in his arms, instead of just his cloak.

“That was some damned fool business in that town back there,” Roderick muttered, as much to himself as to her. “Bunch of no-good ruffians and bandits, looking to run off and kidnap you. Can you believe that?”

Yes, Laria thought, remembering how one of her previous masters had done exactly that, throwing her over his horse and galloping off while her previous master’s estate burned behind them. Thankfully, after the thrill of the raid had worn off, he hadn’t found her alluring enough to keep her, and had traded her with a passing slave caravan. He had been a particularly cruel and bloodthirsty master.

“My father didn’t believe in keeping slaves,” Roderick continued, the camel swaying gently as they plodded on through the desert night. “He believed that every manservant and maidservant should be paid for honest work. But when the coin of Xulthar came to the realm, our family’s wealth began to evaporate. That was how he learned that the coin was cursed.”

As Roderick continued to speak, Laria found herself becoming increasingly engaged in his story. He spoke passionately about the lost city of Xulthar and his desire to restore his family’s honor.

“My family’s honor has been tarnished,” he said slowly. “My father was accused of a crime he did not commit, and we lost everything. Our home, our lands, our wealth. Everything.”

“And Xulthar will restore it all?” Laria asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” Roderick said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Xulthar is said to contain treasures beyond imagining. Enough to restore my family’s honor and wealth.”

She could tell that he had been deeply affected by the wrongs his family had suffered, and she felt a sense of admiration for him as he talked about how he wanted to make things right again.

“After I defeat the evil that lurks in the heart of Xulthar,” he said, his voice quivering with emotion, “I will seize the riches that lie therein and use them to restore what was taken from us.”

Laria nodded in agreement, her heart stirring with admiration for Roderick and his cause. “You have done a lot to keep your family’s legacy alive,” she said warmly. He smiled gratefully, then continued speaking passionately about his plans to rebuild the once-great city.

He paused, looking off into the horizon with a far away look in his eyes. “My father always said that the best way to heal a wound is to confront the source of it,” he said quietly.

Laria nodded, understanding that Roderick was determined to face the evil forces behind Xulthar’s destruction. With newfound respect, she reached out her hand and placed it on top of his own as if offering him a silent gesture of support.

Roderick turned and looked at her with surprise before quickly glancing away again with a shy smile on his face. Laria felt her cheeks burn at the intensity of their gaze, but then she realized that this was something new—this was something different than what she experienced with her other masters. She suddenly knew why he had been so kind to her today; he saw her not just as a possession but as someone worthy of respect and admiration.

And for the first time in many years, Laria began to feel seen—not just by Roderick but by herself too.

As he finished his story, he turned to look at her, his eyes meeting hers in the dim light of the desert night. Laria felt her heart skip a beat and wondered if he could feel her pulse quickening beneath the cloak.

“You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “I’ve been thinking.”

Laria swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Yes, Master Roderick?”

“I know that you didn’t want to be liberated, Laria,” he said, his expression softening. “But now that you are, I hope that you understand what it means to be free.”

Laria nodded, her eyes still fixed on his. For the first time since she met Roderick, she was beginning to see him in a different light. A light that made her heart race and her palms sweat.

“I do, Master Roderick,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Roderick leaned closer to her, and Laria could feel his warm breath on her face. “You don’t have to call me ‘Master’ anymore, Laria,” he told her. “You’re a free woman, now. Do you truly understand that? Because I don’t think that you do.”

“What makes you say that?” Laria asked, catching herself before calling him Master Roderick again.

“Because as a free woman, you don’t have to come with me to Xulthar. The way through the deep desert is dangerous, and the lost city itself is filled with evil sorcery. No, it would be safer for you to turn around and go back.”

Laria’s eyes widened. “But where would I go? I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Roderick brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You could go anywhere you want, Laria. With your freedom, you have the power to make your own choices and carve your own path in this world.”

Laria felt a surge of emotion welling up inside her. She had never felt so liberated before. Being a slave for so long had made her believe that she was nothing more than property to be owned and used by others. But now, with Roderick’s words ringing in her ears, she felt like anything was possible.

“Then I choose to go with you to Xulthar,” she said firmly. “I want to help you find this lost city, and claim its treasure for your own.”

Roderick frowned. “I figured you would say that,” he muttered, starting to brood again. “But be warned, Laria. Xulthar is not a place for the faint of heart. We will face many dangers on the way, and even more within the city’s walls.”

Laria nodded her head firmly. “I’m not scared,” she told him. “I may not have had many opportunities to explore the world, but I’m not unfamiliar with danger. And, I believe in you, Roderick.”

Roderick turned and looked at her with the strangest expression, somewhere between pity and sadness. With a start, Laria realized that the sadness wasn’t for her, but for himself.

“I have to be honest with you, Laria,” he said at length, breaking the uneasy silence that had fallen between them. “I do not expect to return from Xulthar alive.”

Laria’s heart skipped a beat at Roderick’s words. She had known that the journey to the lost city would be dangerous, but she had not expected this. She looked at Roderick, searching for some kind of reassurance, but his face was grim.

“Why?” she asked. “Don’t you want to restore your family’s honor?”

“I do,” he said softly, “but to tell you the truth, I don’t think I can anymore. I don’t think it’s possible.”

Laria was taken aback by Roderick’s defeatist attitude. This wasn’t the man she had come to know over the past few days. He had always been brave and determined to set things right, no matter the cost. She couldn’t bear to see him like this.

“Roderick,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “What’s going on? Why do you think you can’t restore your family’s honor?”

Roderick sighed heavily and looked away. “It’s hard to explain,” he told her. “I am just one man, and…”

His voice trailed off until all she heard was the plodding of the camel’s hooves and the whistling of the desert wind. Knowing that it sometimes took time for men to work through and understand their feelings, she waited silently for him to continue.

He took a deep breath and clenched his fists. “Some people say that the only difference between a slave and a free man is that a slave knows he is a slave.”

Laria frowned. “I don’t understand. What does that have to do with anything?”

Roderick turned to her, his eyes burning with intensity. “It has everything to do with it. You see, Laria, I’ve never felt truly free. Even before my family was disgraced, I felt trapped by expectations and obligations. I thought that if I could restore my family’s honor, I would finally be able to live my life on my own terms. But now…now I’m not so sure.”

Laria could see the pain etched on Roderick’s face. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked softly.

Roderick turned to her and gave her a small smile. “Just being here with me, right now, helps more than you know.”

Laria watched as Roderick gazed out across the desert, lost in his thoughts. She could feel his struggle inside her own heart; she wanted to do something to ease his burden, but she wasn’t sure what. As they rode on in silence, she thought of all the things she had learned about him.

He was a proud man with a strong moral code and a fierce loyalty to those he cared for. He was willing to put himself in danger if it meant protecting his honor or helping someone else, even if it cost him everything. Despite all this, he seemed so lonely and isolated at times that it almost broke her heart.

Finally, she decided to take a chance. Reaching out, she gently touched his arm and said softly, “Roderick…you don’t have to do this alone.”

He turned to look at her with surprise, then gave her a sad smile. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “But I don’t want you to die for my sake. The demons that I face, I must face alone.”

“No,” Laria said quickly. “I’m here for you, Roderick. I’ll stand by your side and face those demons with you. You don’t have to face everything alone.”

A strange new warmth spread inside her chest as she spoke. She was surprised at how much she cared for this man, despite only knowing him for a short amount of time.

But Roderick shook his head. “Laria, you don’t know what you’re saying. Xulthar is not a place to be trifled with. If you stay by my side, you’re putting your life in danger.”

Laria’s eyes flashed with determination. “I know the risks, Roderick. But I also know that I can’t just stand by and watch you suffer alone. Let me help you.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I cannot allow you to come with me. It’s too dangerous.”

His words exasperated her. “What makes you think I can’t handle danger?” she retorted. “I’ve been a slave my whole life, Roderick. I’ve faced danger every day just trying to survive.”

“This isn’t like that,” he told her. “This is a different kind of danger than living as a slave. The dark sorcery of Xulthar has consumed everyone who goes there. It’s not just danger, it’s death.”

Laria shook her head, refusing to back down. “I don’t care, Roderick. I want to help you. You don’t have to face this alone.”

Roderick looked at her with a mixture of fear and admiration that sent a shiver down her spine. “Laria,” he said, his voice softening. “I appreciate your kindness. But this is not a battle you want to be a part of. The creatures of Xulthar are beyond anything you can imagine. I wouldn’t want to see any harm come to you.”

Roderick opened his mouth to protest, but Laria quickly cut him off. “I understand your caution, Roderick,” she said resolutely. “But I’ve seen too much evil in my life to simply stand by and do nothing. Though I may not be a warrior like you, I won’t be cowed by fear.”

The man’s expression softened, admiration shining from his eyes. “Your courage is unquestioned, Laria. But there is a difference between bravery and foolishness – make sure you recognize the distinction.”

Laria squared her shoulders and nodded determinedly. “That’s why I’m here,” she said defiantly. “You said that I’m now free. That means I can choose where I go – and I choose to go with you, Roderick. To Xulthar.”

Roderick studied her face for a moment, then gave a small sigh. “Very well,” he finally said. “But you must understand, there may come a time when you regret this decision.”

Laria shook her head. “I won’t regret it, Roderick. Not if it means I can be there for you.”

The night was alive with menace as they plodded deeper into the desert. Insidious dangers hid in the shadows, yet Laria felt a glimmer of courage – for she was not alone. Roderick rode alongside her, offering both security and companionship, two feelings entirely new to Laria’s experience. And hope burned within her heart like a beacon as they pushed onward through the starry night.

Laria

The desert somehow seemed softer and more inviting in the early light of dawn. Laria stole from the tent that she and Roderick chastely shared and walked barefoot across the dusty sandstone to the ridge in whose shadow they had camped. The hills were not as high here as the dunes of the deep desert, but was still slightly out of breath when she crested the top.

The desert seemed so vast, so empty. She could understand why some travelers would be driven mad by its solitude. But for Laria, this was a welcome respite from all of her worries and troubles. Here, there were no expectations or demands on her time and energy; just peace and reflection—a space she desperately needed after the tumult of recent events.

She marveled at the sheer beauty of it all: the rugged mountain peaks that loomed in the distance; the sandy plane that stretched out before her; the cloudless sky speckled with a million stars that seemed to linger just above her head in silent anticipation of dawn; and most of all, she was awestruck by its serene stillness—the gentle whisper of wind rustling through clusters of dried grasses like blessed reminders that life goes on even in times of great upheaval.

She sat on the bare earth at the top of the ridge and hugged her knees to her chest as she pondered the recent upheavals in her own life. It had all happened so quickly, being freed from the life of slavery which was all she had ever known. Even now, she was torn between the desire to embrace her newfound freedom and the fear of a life she didn’t know. She missed the comfort of her old life, the predictability of it all. But she couldn’t deny the sense of adventure and possibility that came with the uncertainty of her future.

Her thoughts turned to Roderick. Laria found herself drawn to him in a way she couldn’t quite explain. He was strong, reliable, and had a fierce determination that she found admirable. In many ways, he reminded her of the masters she had come to know and respect during her time as a slave.

But there was something different about Roderick. Something that set him apart from the others. It was the way he treated her, with kindness and respect, as if she were a person and not just a piece of property. It was a foreign concept to her, but one that she found herself yearning for more and more with each passing day.

She knew now that he would never willingly be her master. He wanted her to embrace her freedom, to create a new life for herself as something more than a slave. But the thought of being under his protection and care was something she couldn’t shake. Maybe he would come around eventually, or maybe she would have to learn to live without him. It was a difficult thought, and Laria sighed heavily, feeling the weight of it in her chest.

As she sat in the quiet of the night, her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a rustling in the grass. It was too heavy to be the wind, and her hand instinctively moved towards the dagger that Roderick had given her–though if she was forced to use it, she didn’t think that she could. Her heart pounded in her chest, her eyes searching the darkness.

Suddenly, a massive figure emerged from the shadows, its form hulking and powerful. It was a creature she had never seen before, with the head of a lion and the body of a man. It carried what looked like a golden scepter in its hand, and its eyes bore down on her majestically. Laria froze, her mind racing. She knew she stood no chance against such a creature alone.

But before she could act, the creature spoke. Its voice was deep and guttural, but surprisingly human.

“Fear not, little one,” it rumbled. “I am Zonthar, one of the old gods of Xulthar, from before the city’s fall. What brings you to this place?”

Laria hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. But something in the creature’s voice spoke to her, and she found herself answering. “I am Laria,” she replied, her voice steady but soft. “I am…a traveler. I was resting here for the night.”

The lion-man regarded her for a moment, as if searching for something. “You seem like a slave,” it said finally, and Laria felt her heart sink.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I have been a slave my entire life.”

“I too was a slave, once,” it said, its voice heavy with sadness. “It is a hard life, one I would not wish on anyone.”

“You, a god, were once a slave?” Laria asked incredulously.

“Yes,” said Zonthar. “Xulthar was once the seat of a mighty and benevolent empire, and as one of its patron gods, the fame of my cult spread far and wide. But my priests and worshippers exalted themselves, and sought to chain me with their strict and unrelenting dogma. Alas, too late I realized that even a god can be a slave.”

“How can that be?” Laria asked.

“Power does not always equate to freedom,” Zonthar replied. “For even the powerful can become trapped by their own desires and the expectations of those below them. As a patron god of Xulthar, I was blinded by my own pride. But in my years of captivity, I discovered the true meaning of freedom. It is not just about being able to come and go as you please, but also about the freedom of thought and spirit. And that is something that no one can take away from you.”

Laria listened intently to the wisdom of the old god. She had never thought of freedom in that way before.

“But why are you here, Zonthar?” she asked. “If you are a patron god of Xulthar, what brings you here, so far from the lost city?”

The lion-man eyed her sadly and sat down on the ground next to her. “When the people of Xulthar turned to evil, I threw off the shackles of my freedom and abandoned my followers to their own destruction. They cursed my name and cast me out of their pantheon. I have wandered the deserts ever since, watching over the ruins of my exiled home.”

As stars began to flee from the rays of dawn, the image of Zonthar began to fade as well. Laria sensed that he was not a being of flesh and bone, but of spirit–if indeed he was even that. Perhaps he was only a figment of her imagination, an ethereal mirage haunting the edges of the desert. Even so, she didn’t want him to leave.

“Why have you come to me?” she asked, looking into his lion face.

His deep yellow eyes regarded her gravely. “My power now is feeble compared with the evil that haunts the ruins of my former home. But with the last of my waning power, I look over the souls of those who seek the city of Xulthar.”

Laria stared at the fading figure of Zonthar, uncertain of what to say. He had given her so much information, yet she was still confused.

“But why did you come to me, and not Roderick?” she asked, referring to her friend who had also been on the quest to find Xulthar.

“Because you have a much more important role to play,” he said simply. “The dark powers that inhabit the lost city are seeking you for an evil end. To defeat them, you must embrace your newfound freedom and accept my gift.”

He reached into the folds of his lion skin cloak and withdrew an ancient gold coin. Its surface glinted in the predawn light, but Laria could feel a strange power emanating from it that made her uneasy.

“This coin is free from the curse of Xulthar,” he said softly. “Its value is priceless, for it was minted in the age of Xulthar’s greatness, before the city’s descent into dark sorcery. Use it to start a new life for yourself, as a free woman. It is my parting gift.”

Laria stood still, rooted to the spot as Zonthar’s form slowly dissipated into the dry desert air. He was gone, and yet his presence still lingered in the air. Or did it? Had she truly seen and spoken to a god, or had she merely dreamed it, in the dark witching hour before the first light of dawn? She felt the chill of the night air against her skin, even as the first rays of dawn lighted the tops of the distant mountains. Surely it had only been a dream.

And yet, as she stared at the empty space where the apparition of the god had been, a glint of gold caught her eye. Sure enough, a gold coin lay forgotten in the sand. She knelt down and scooped it up, holding it in her trembling hands.

Laria felt the weight of the coin in her hand, and for a moment she was in awe of its strange beauty. She had never allowed herself to own or accept money before, yet here she was holding something that was of such great value. How could she possibly accept this ancient coin as a gift? The thoughts raced through her mind as she debated what to do.

She stared at the glittering trinket in her hands, offered by the god like a spark of hope. If she accepted it and used it as instructed, she would be liberated from her chains of subjugation forever; but what cost would come with that freedom, she wondered? Her world as she knew it would be upended–but if she gave it to Roderick, he would demand an explanation. What would she tell him then? He would never believe that a god had appeared to her–indeed, the very thought of it seemed almost ridiculous to her now. It was easier to believe that she had merely dreamed it up in the haze of the night.

Laria stood there, lost in thought for a few moments longer, weighing the options in her mind. Finally, she made her decision.

“No,” she said softly, and flung the coin with all her strength back into the desert sands. Then, rising to her feet, she returned to the camp, ignoring the forlorn howling of the desert wind around her.

Laria

The night air was chilly and dry. Laria shivered and pulled her robes tighter, but the fabric was too thin to offer much warmth. The camel plodded monotonously along, its thick hide impervious to the breeze. As for Roderick, he preferred to travel on foot beside the beast.

“Please, Master Roderick,” she urged. “You should be the one riding.”

“Nonsense, Laria. We’ll make better time this way. You wouldn’t last an hour without becoming exhausted.”

“That isn’t true. I walked in the desert for days when the slaver still had me.”

He grunted. “Even so, I won’t let you walk while I ride.”

“Then why don’t we both ride? The camel has borne us both before. Please, Master Rod—”

“For the thousandth time,” he snapped at her, “I am not your master.”

Laria bit her lip. Roderick was such a mystery to her. He had a temper as short as her cruelest masters, and yet the way he treated her was anything but cruel. Her first reflex was to shy away from his outbursts, but she knew now that he would not hurt her, and that encouraged her to be more bold.

“The night air is cold, and my robes are too thin to keep me warm. It would be better if we sat together.”

He gave her an odd look, then took off his cloak. “Take this,” he said, holding it out to her.

“But won’t you be cold, Master—I mean, Roderick?”

“I’ll be fine. Besides, we’ll probably stop for the night soon. Like you said, they probably aren’t following us, and even if they are…” his voice faded into silence.

Laria took the cloak gratefully and wrapped it around her small frame. She wondered what it would feel like to be wrapped in his arms instead.

“That town was little more than a lair of ruffians and thieves,” Roderick muttered, as much to himself as to her. “First they tried to buy you, like so much freshly slaughtered meat, and then they tried to kidnap you. Can you believe such a thing?”

Yes, Laria thought, remembering how one of her previous masters had done exactly that, throwing her over his horse and galloping off while her previous master’s estate burned behind them. Thankfully, he hadn’t found her alluring enough to keep her, and had traded her with a passing slave caravan. He had been a particularly cruel master.

“My father didn’t believe in keeping slaves,” Roderick continued as he walked alongside the plodding camel. “He believed that every manservant and maidservant should be paid for honest work. But when the coin of Xulthar flooded the realm, our family’s wealth began to evaporate. Too late, he learned that the coin was cursed.”

As Roderick spoke passionately about his desire to restore his family’s house, she found herself drawn both to him and to his story. If his temper was bewilderingly short, it was because of all the wrongs he had suffered—wrongs that he was determined to set right, just like he was determined to set her free.

“That’s why our house fell,” he told her. “My father was falsely accused of the very corruption of which those in power were guilty, and we lost everything: our home, our lands, our wealth. Everything.”

“And that is why you seek the riches of Xulthar?” Laria asked.

“Aye,” Roderick said eagerly. “The lost city of Xulthar is said to contain treasures beyond imagination. Surely, it must be enough to restore my family’s wealth and honor.”

“But what about the curse? Isn’t Xulthar’s treasure cursed as much as its coin?”

His expression suddenly darkened. “Aye,” he admitted. “That is why I must first defeat the evil that possesses it. After that, I will seize the riches that lie therein and restore what was wrongly taken from us.”

“But how?” Laria asked, confused. “You are just one man, Roderick. How can you hope to defeat the dark sorcery of Xulthar alone?”

He didn’t answer, and a brooding silence fell upon them as they journeyed through the night. With a start, Laria realized that Roderick had lost his hope—that he fully expected to die on his quest, just like all the other adventurers who had sought the lost city before him. That was why he was so determined to be rid of her—because he did not want her to die with him in his hopeless cause.

“Roderick,” she said softly, “I want to go with you to Xulthar.”

“Are you certain?” he asked. “The way through the desert is fraught with danger, and we may not return alive.”

“I am certain,” she said, her voice firm. “You are a good man. I don’t want to leave you, and—”

How could she adequately express how she felt? This all was something new—something she had never experienced with her other masters. In spite of his short temper, Roderick saw her not as a possession, but as a person worthy of his respect. It made her feel truly seen and heard, perhaps for the first time in her life. And perhaps for the first time, she was beginning to truly see herself, too.

“I don’t want to take you as a slave,” he told her, his voice equally firm. “If we go to Xulthar together, we go as companions—as equals.”

“Yes,” she agreed, surprising herself.

“You are a free woman now, Laria. You are free to come and go as you please. And if for any reason you should desire to turn and leave me—any reason at all—I will not stop you.”

“Yes,” she agreed readily. “Whatever fate befalls us, my life is in my own hands now.”

Her own words sent a chill down her spine, apart from the cold night air. Even now, the thought of embracing her freedom filled her with dread and fear. Life was so much easier when the burden of caring for herself was in somebody else’s hands, even if that person exploited and abused her.

Roderick turned, and their eyes met in the dim light of the stars. “Do you truly mean that, Laria?”

“Yes,” she said, the words spilling out of her. “I will go with you to Xulthar, not because I have to, or because I have nowhere else to go, but because I want to accompany you there. Yes—this is what I want.”

“Not just to be my slave?”

“No. You are a good man, Roderick, and it would make me happy to serve as your slave, but since that is not what you want for me, I will accompany you as a companion instead.”

“Then you accept that you are a free woman now? That you no longer have to call me, or any other man, your master?”

Laria hesitated. Again, the same fear gripped her. “I accept that I am free to come and go as I please,” she said carefully. “And I want to go with you to Xulthar, to help you succeed in breaking the curse and righting the wrongs you have suffered.” And to convince you not to throw your life away on a hopeless quest, she thought but did not say aloud.

As if sensing her thoughts, he turned sadly away from her. “I have to be honest with you, Laria. I do not expect to return from Xulthar alive.”

Laria nodded. “I know.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Isn’t that why you wanted me to find a place to settle down? I can see it in the way you brood over everything, and how willing you seem to throw your life away when you fight.”

He grunted. “You have a keen eye, Laria.”

“No, I’m just good at reading people. And what I see in you worries me, Roderick. Have you lost all hope of success? Are you so obsessed with honor that you’ve forgotten your own happiness?”

She stopped, and the only sounds that answered her were the plodding of the camel’s hooves and the whistling of the desert wind. Knowing that it sometimes took time for me to work through and understand their feelings, she waited patiently as Roderick took a deep breath.

“Some people say that the only difference between a slave and a free man is that one of them understands he is a slave.”

Laria frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We all must serve something. Most people serve only themselves, and thus become slaves to money.”

“How is that? I don’t understand.”

“Curse or no curse, we all must use money, for everything in this world has a price. For those who only serve themselves, the acquisition and spending of money ultimately becomes the object and purpose of their existence.”

“And so they become slaves to it,” Laria finished for him. When he put it in those terms, she understood the concept precisely.

“Aye,” said Roderick, kicking a stone. “So in a way, Laria, you were perhaps more free as a slave than most of your masters.”

“And what about yourself? What do you serve?”

“I have always sought to serve something higher than myself, such as honor, or my house.”

“Or your family,” she added.

“Aye,” he said, nodding. “Or my family.”

“Do you plan to have a family of your own someday, Roderick?”

In the silence that followed her question, the stillness of the desert seemed to wash over them. “I do not know,” he finally answered. “What about you, Laria? Was family ever part of your plans?”

The question gave her pause as well. As a slave, pregnancy and child rearing were things that just happened to you—like so many other things in her life, they were outside of her immediate control. As of yet, her womb had never born a babe. But she knew of no reason why she couldn’t bear children if she wanted. If she were truly a free woman now—and the thought still sent a shiver of fear down her spine—then the possibility of starting a family of her own was well within her own power.

“Not until now,” she said honestly. “It is… something I will have to think about. As a slave…” her voice trailed off.

“This is why we are meant to be free,” he mused, staring off at the starry horizon. “Slaves beget naught but slaves, and cursings follow the children unto the third and fourth generation. But blessings follow as well, and families, like people, are strongest when they are free.”

“Wise words,” Laria whispered softly enough that only she could hear. Roderick gazed out across the desert, lost in his thoughts. She could feel his struggle within her own heart, and it filled her with a longing to ease his burden somehow. He was a good man with a strong sense of honor and a fierce loyalty to those he cared for. That alone set him apart from every man she had known, but he also had the courage to risk his own life for those he cared for, even if it cost him everything. Surely a man like this deserved to be a king. And yet, he seemed so lonely in this dark and honorless world that it made her want to weep for his sake.

On impulse, she took the reins of the camel from him and brought the beast to a stop. “What are you doing?” Roderick asked as she swung her leg over the side of the saddle and leaped to the ground beside him.

“I’ve had enough riding,” she told him. “From now until we make camp, I want to walk beside you—unless, of course, you would prefer to ride.”

“No,” he said quickly. Then, with a shrug, he led them off again.

As they walked, Laria slipped her hand in his. He accepted the gesture with apparent indifference, but she sensed an added quickness to his step that hadn’t been there before.

“Roderick,” she said softly, “you don’t have to face your struggles alone.”

He turned his head to look at her, then gave her a sad smile. “Thank you,” he said quietly, “but I don’t want you to suffer for my sake. Only I can face my own demons.”

“No,” Laria said quickly. “I’m here for you, Roderick. I’ll stand by your side and face down those demons with you. You don’t have to face everything by yourself.”

A strange new warmth spread inside her as she spoke, and she sensed that her words surprised him as much as her. But Roderick shook his head.

“Laria—you do not know what you say. Xulthar is a place of darkness and death. If you stay by my side and share in my fate, it may be worse for you than if you had remained a slave.”

Laria’s heart skipped a beat, but she steeled herself with a determination she hadn’t before known she was capable of possessing.

“I know the risks, Roderick. But I can’t just leave you to suffer alone. Our fates are tied together now, and I want to follow you to the end.”

He opened her mouth to say no, but when he looked into her eyes, the word died on his lips. A newfound admiration for her filled his gaze, and he squeezed her hand, giving her a pleasant thrill. But then, his expression grew grim once again.

“I wish you wouldn’t come.”

“Why not?” she asked, frowning. “Though I may not be a warrior like you, I know what it means to face danger and death. I’ve faced it quite often, as a slave.”

“This is a different kind of danger. The dark sorcery of Xulthar consumes everyone who goes there. If—”

“Then I have to go with you, Roderick. I can’t just stand by and let you be consumed.”

“Your courage is unquestioned, Laria. But there is a difference between bravery and foolishness. Do you understand the distinction?”

“Do you?” she retorted. “Roderick—you’ve told me that I am free. That means I can choose where I go—and I choose to go with you. To Xulthar.”

He studied her face for a moment, then gave a small sigh. “Very well, Laria,” he said finally. “But there may come a time when you regret this decision.”

“Isn’t that the price of being free?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “I suppose it is.”

Laria

The desert seemed softer in the predawn light. Laria stole from the tent that she and Roderick chastely shared and walked barefoot across the dusty sandstone to the nearby ridge. The hills were not as high here as the dunes of the deep desert, but she was still out of breath when she crested the top.

The desert was so empty and vast. She could understand why it drove some travelers mad. But for Laria, the solitude was a welcome respite. Here, there were no demands or interruptions: just the peace and silence she needed after the tumultuous turn of recent events.

She marveled at the sheer beauty of it all: the rugged mountain peaks that loomed in the distance, the sandy plains that stretched out before her, the cloudless sky speckled with a million lingering stars. Most of all, she was struck by the serene stillness of the landscape, which—though barren—still possessed its own beauty.

As the cool night breeze rustled clumps of dried grass, the sound made her muse on the relentless march of life. She shivered and hugged her knees to her chest, pulling Roderick’s cloak tighter as she pondered on the course her own life had recently taken.

It had all happened so quickly, the events that had torn her from the life of slavery she had ever known. Even now, she felt torn between embracing her newfound freedom and rejecting it, for fear of the unknown. She missed the familiarity of her old life, for even in the hardest times it had still been predictable. But she couldn’t deny the possibility and promise of adventure that came with the uncertainty of her future.

And then there was Roderick. Laria found herself drawn to him in a way she couldn’t quite explain. He was strong and reliable, with fierce determination that she found wonderfully admirable. Truly, he was the best master she had ever known. But unlike all her previous masters—even the first, who had all but adopted her as his own daughter—Roderick treated her as her own person, and not just a piece of property. It was a foreign concept to her, but one she found more appealing with each passing day.

And of course, since he had freed her, he was her master no longer. She wasn’t sure if that made him less to her, or somehow much more. Would he continue to protect her? Probably—after all, he had protected her from Jamal and his thugs. He would probably continue to do so all the way to Xulthar.

As she gazed at the predawn sky, her ponderings were abruptly disturbed by a rustling in the grass. It was too heavy to be the wind, and seemed to be accompanied by the crunch of approaching footsteps, though perhaps that was just her imagination. She held her breath, and when she heard it again, her heart began to pound.

She turned just in time to see a massive figure materialize from the darkness, its form hulking and powerful. It had the appearance of an otherworldly creature, with the head of a lion and the body of a man. In its hands, it carried what looked like a golden scepter.

Laria gasped in fright, but before she could act, the creature spoke. Its voice was deep and guttural, like the rumbling of distant thunder.

“Fear not, little one. I am Zonthar, one of the old gods of Xulthar.”

“You… you are a god?” Laria managed to say.

Zonthar nodded, and Laria realized that she could see through his ghostly body, which had the shimmering quality of a mirage. “Tell me, little one: what brings you to the edge of the forbidden desert? Why do you seek the forgotten city?”

“I—my name is Laria,” she stammered. “As for Xulthar, I seek it with my friend.”

“Your friend?”

“Yes. His name is Roderick, and he seeks the city to confront the evil power that dwells there.” A chill ran down her spine as she realized that Zonthar might well be a part of that power. But when she looked into his cat-like eyes, they seemed to hold only sympathy and sorrow.

“Your friend,” Zonthar repeated, this time as a statement of fact. “Perhaps. But I think it more likely that he is your master, and you are his slave.”

Laria’s heart sank. “Yes,” she admitted. “Until now, I have been a slave all my life.”

“Until now?”

“My… friend, Roderick, was indeed my master. But he made me a free woman, or at least, that is what he tells me.”

“Do you feel that you are free?”

Laria didn’t know how to answer. Before she could, the god sat beside her on the ridge.

“I, too, was once a slave,” he said, his voice as woeful as the lonely whistling of the wind. “It is a hard and miserable life.”

“You, a god, were once a slave?” Laria asked incredulously.

“Yes. Xulthar was once the seat of a mighty empire, and as one of its gods, the fame of my cult spread far and wide. But my worshippers exalted themselves, and sought to chain me with their unrelenting dogma. Alas, too late I realized that even a god can be a slave.”

Laria blinked in wonder. “How can that possibly be?”

“In the same way that your friend has become a slave to the expectations of honorless men,” Zonthar told her. “As a patron god of Xulthar, I thought myself all-powerful, but the more I showered my worshippers with miracles, the greater their expectations became. They sought to bind me with their worship, and ultimately succeeded, for how could I disappoint them and retain my place in Xulthar’s pantheon?”

Laria listened intently, though most of the old god’s words went over her head. Still, she understood enough to make her wonder. She had never supposed that a god could be a slave.

“What happened?” she asked.

Zonthar took a deep breath, and the sound was like the rushing of a mighty wind. “My followers turned to the worst forms of wickedness that you can possibly imagine. Their worship was tainted with their greed for wealth and their lust for power. And so I disowned them, instructing my priests and prophets to preach that I had abandoned them to their own destruction. They responded by cursing my name and casting down my high places, slaughtering those who had given them my word. I have wandered in exile ever since.”

As the stars began to flee from the rays of dawn, Zonthar began to fade as well. Was he just a figment of her imagination? If not, he was little more than a ghost now.

“Why have you come to me?” she asked, gazing into his feline eyes.

“My power is feeble compared with the evil that haunts my former abode. But with the last of my waning strength, I have come to give you a gift, and a message.”

“Me?” Laria asked in shock. Zonthar’s form began to fade more rapidly.

“Listen well, little one! The dark and sorcerous powers that possess the ruins of Xulthar are seeking you for an evil end. To defeat them, you must embrace your newfound freedom and accept my final gift.”

He held out his hand to reveal an ancient gold coin, which glinted in the predawn light.

“This coin is free from Xulthar’s curse,” Zonthar told her. “Its value is nearly priceless, for it was minted during the height of Xulthar’s glory. Now, it is yours. Use it to forge a new life for yourself, as a free woman.”

Laria sat as still as a stone, rooted to the spot as Zonthar slowly vanished before her eyes. When he was gone, the first rays of dawn began to alight on the tops of the distant mountains. Shivers ran down her arms, and not just from the chill air.

Had she truly just spoken with a god? Or had she merely dreamed it? Now that it was over, she could not believe it was anything other than a dream. And yet, as she stared where the apparition had sat, a glint in the sandy ground caught her eye. Sure enough, it was the ancient gold coin—the final parting gift of the god.

Laria picked it up with trembling fingers. She felt the surprising weight of it in her hand, and for a moment was in awe of its strange beauty.

But how could she possibly take such a valuable coin for herself? She had never owned any before, and so far as she could tell, treasures like this brought only trouble and sorrow.

For a moment, she considered giving the coin to Roderick instead. But then, she realized that he would ask her how she got it. He would never believe that a god had given it to her—indeed, the very thought seemed ridiculous even to her. She must have simply dreamed it in the starry haze of the night.

Laria sat lost in thought, torn between her fear and the fortune she held in her hand. Finally, she made her decision.

“No,” she whispered as she flung the coin with all her strength. It shimmered briefly in the dawn’s soft rays, then struck the ground and disappeared from view. Satisfied, she rose and returned to the camp, ignoring the forlorn howling of the desert wind around her.

<< Chapter 4 << The Riches of Xulthar >> Chapter 6 >>

Laria

They arrived at the next oasis just before dusk. Judging from the crumbling mud-brick ruins nearby, it had once been a thriving place, where caravans had rested and merchants had sought out foreign and exotic wares. Laria even recognized the remnants of an old slave auction block, like many she had been sold at before. But the oasis was now abandoned, and the pool of water in its center had now dwindled to a mere puddle. Still, it was enough for the camel to drink and for Laria to bathe herself.

She shed her clothes in full view of her new master, hoping to please him thereby. As she stepped gingerly into the tepid water, however, he suddenly turned away from her.

“Why do you avert your eyes, Master Roderick?” Laria asked.

“Because you are naked.”

Laria’s heart sank. This was not the reaction she had hoped to elicit from him.

“Is it my scars, master? Is that why my body displeases you?”

“No,” he said quickly. “Your body does not displease me, Laria. On the contrary, I find your beauty to be mesmerizing.”

“Then why do you avert your eyes?”

“To grant you your privacy,” he told her gruffly.

Laria cocked her head curiously. “Master, what is ‘privacy’?”

Roderick paused, as if taken aback by Laria’s question. But he quickly composed himself and explained.

“Privacy is the ability to keep things to yourself, to have space that’s only for you. It’s important, especially for people who are free.”

Laria frowned, confused. “But why is it important? I don’t understand.”

Roderick let out a frustrated sigh. “It just… is, Laria. Trust me on this.”

Laria gave a small nod, though the idea of freedom was foreign to her. She had been a slave since birth and was used to being told what to do without having to think for herself. Roderick’s determination to free her made her uncomfortable; why would someone care about her wellbeing so much? He spoke of it with such passion that it almost felt like he was trying to convince himself.

“Laria, where are you from?”

She looked up at him and smiled. “I don’t know, Master Roderick. I was sold into slavery as a child, and I’ve never known any other way of life. Until you became my master, I’ve always been sold from one man to another.”

“You are not a slave anymore, Laria,” he said firmly. “You are free.”

Fear seized Laria’s gut and tears welled up in her eyes. “I am grateful for your kindness, Master Roderick. But… I don’t know how to live as a free person.”

“Then start by choosing your own path.”

“But what does that mean?” she asked hesitantly.

“It means you no longer have to answer to anyone but yourself,” Roderick replied. “You may act for yourself now. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Laria’s gaze shifted down to the pool of tepid water in which she stood. “I don’t know what I want. I’ve always been told what to do.”

Roderick shifted uncomfortably. She could tell that he was struggling to find the right words to say.

“Well,” he said at length, “you don’t have to decide right now. Just know that you have the freedom to do what you want.”

“What if I want to please you? What if I want to be your slave?”

Blood rushed swiftly to his cheeks. “I cannot be your master, Laria. I detest the very thought of owning another person.”

Laria looked at him with confusion. She had never met a man like Roderick before. He was different from other men, kind and gentle. He didn’t lust after her body like the other men who had owned her did.

“But I am happy being a slave,” Laria said. “I have everything I need. A roof over my head, food to eat, and a purpose. Without a master, I am nothing.”

“That isn’t true, Laria. You are more than just a slave. You have your own desires and your own thoughts. You can be whoever you want to be.”

Laria shook her head, feeling lost and confused. She couldn’t understand Roderick’s insistence on freedom when all she wanted was to be owned and cared for by someone who she trusted.

“Master Roderick,” she said softly, “you are a good man. I can trust you, and I know that you will take care of me. Please…let me be your slave.”

Roderick’s eyes sparked with an emotion that Laria couldn’t quite place. He stepped forward and took her hand, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Laria,” he whispered, “I cannot own you. But I will take care of you. I will be your friend and your guide, but I cannot be your master.”

Laria withdrew her hand, feeling a sense of rejection. She struggled to understand why Roderick refused to be her master when he was the only one who had treated her with kindness and respect. She couldn’t bear the thought of being alone and unprotected in a world full of danger and uncertainty.

“Please, Master Roderick,” she pleaded, “I beg you to reconsider. I don’t know how to be free. I need someone to protect me and give me purpose. I need you.”

Roderick sighed heavily, his expression pained. “Laria, I cannot give you what you’re asking for. It goes against everything I believe in.”

Laria felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t understand why he was so adamant about this freedom, this thing that only brought her confusion and fear. For her, freedom was an abstract concept that meant nothing.

“Please, Master Roderick, I don’t know how to be anything but a slave.”

Roderick’s eyes softened, and he took a step closer to her, though still averting his gaze.

“Laria, listen to me. Being free doesn’t mean you have to be alone. It doesn’t mean you have to be unprotected. You can still have purpose and direction in your life. In fact, life will have more purpose for you–more meaning.”

Laria couldn’t believe what he was saying. How could she have purpose without a master? How could her life have meaning if she only lived for herself?

“I don’t understand,” she murmured.

Roderick sighed and turned away. “Never mind all that. We can talk about the meaning of your freedom later. For now, we need to discuss more pressing matters.”

“Of course, Master Roderick,” she said demurely as she cupped her hands in the tepid water and splashed it over her bare skin. Roderick scowled and shook his head, as if casting some sullen thoughts out of his head. She hoped she had not displeased him, though it was difficult to tell.

“I am seeking the lost city of Xulthar, to defeat the dark power that dwells within its walls and claim its treasures for my own. My friends, who had pledged to journey with me, have abandoned me to the desert wastes. That is why I travel alone.”

“I see,” said Laria, smiling to set him at ease as she washed the sand and dirt from her arms. “I think that the slaver was taking me to Xulthar as well.”

“Really?” said Roderick, suddenly interested.

“Yes,” Laria told him. “At least, that’s what I overheard him tell the black-cloaked man back in the city. He was mumbling and cursing to himself about it–something about the pay not being worth the journey.”

“Why was he taking you to Xulthar? The city has lain in ruins for more than a century.”

His earnestness took Laria aback. She didn’t know how to answer.

“I am sorry, Master Roderick. I’m just a slave, and not very knowledgeable about these sorts of things.”

“Never mind,” Roderick said gruffly. “You’re free now, and I’ll be your guide, at least until the next town.”

Laria felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of adventure, but also a twinge of disappointment that Roderick only thought of himself as her guide, and nothing more. She shook the feeling away and focused on Roderick’s words.

“Thank you, Master Roderick. I will follow you wherever you go.”

“Good,” he said, his expression hardening. “Now finish washing yourself. We need to set out from this place as soon as possible.”

Laria frowned. “Why is that, Master Roderick?”

Roderick hesitated before answering her. “I encountered a fey creature at the last oasis, and I do not trust these waters.”

“A fey creature?” Laria asked as she finished washing the dust out of her hair.

“Yes,” Roderick explained. “She was an undine nymph, terrible and fair. She put a spell upon my friends, and tried to bargain with me for their freedom.”

Laria’s eyes widened in shock. She had never heard of a water nymph, but she could imagine what sorts of powers they must possess–and how dangerous they must be, in this burning desert where water could mean the difference between life and death.

“What sort of a bargain did she try to strike with you, Master Roderick?”

Roderick looked away. “She asked me for a kiss. I sensed an evil intention behind her request, however, and denied it. Now come, let us go.”

Laria started to climb out of the pool, her skin already drying under the hot desert son. Just as she was about to step out, something glinted at the bottom of the pool–a small shiny object that seemed to be calling to her. She reached down into the sun-warm water to scoop it up. In her wet palm rested a tiny silver locket, its surface engraved with intricate floral designs.

She showed it to Roderick, and his reaction was immediate. He nearly fell over in surprise.

“I gave that locket to the nymph!” he exclaimed. “It was my payment for freeing my friends. But how did it end up here?”

Laria looked back at him, baffled. “I don’t know, Master Roderick,” she said softly.

Roderick shook his head. “The undine nymph’s powers must extend here, too,” he mused aloud. “Perhaps she is playing tricks with us.” He looked back at Laria then and smiled sadly. “You can keep it if you want, Laria.”

Laria stared at him in disbelief–she had never owned money or property before! She knew that this little trinket must be valuable; she just didn’t know what do with it or how to feel about having it suddenly thrust upon her like this.

“I think I should give it back,” she finally said in a quiet voice, offering the locket to Roderick with trembling fingers.

He hesitated for a moment before taking the locket from her hands and slipping it into his pocket. “If that’s what you wish,” he said, then turned away again, averting his eyes from her naked form.

Laria felt a pang of disappointment as Roderick once again looked away from her. She had hoped that Roderick would have noticed her in some way, especially since he seemed like such a good man. She had to find some way to convince him to be her master.

She reluctantly dressed herself, donning the slaver’s light linen robes that fit loosely over her slender frame. Then, she followed Roderick to where he had tethered the camel. The animal was still loaded with the supplies and provisions that the slaver had brought with them for the journey to Xulthar–the slaver that Roderick had slain.

“Let’s go,” Roderick said curtly as he mounted the beast. Laria climbed up behind him, and together they set out across the burning desert sands.

Roderick

The deserts stretched from the foothills of the Kevonas to the southern reachest of the Arabuli Basin and the westernmost shores of the Vilayan Sea. Once, the lands had been green and lush, or so the legends told. But so many empires had risen, fallen, and become forgotten since that time that the desert wastes now seemed as permanent as the unrelenting sun that baked it. On the edges of the Arabuli basin, men still strove to eke out a meager existence as they labored to make the land bloom once more, but the plague years had wiped out nearly a century of their work, and the deserts had steadily reclaimed their own.

Still, the wastes were not entirely void of inhabitants, as the caravans still found it profitable to cross the deserts directly, evading the pirates of the Vilayan and the tolls of the southern principalities. Where caravans crossed, oasis towns sprung up to service them, with mud-brick walls to protect them from the bandits and desert raiders who followed in the caravans’ wake.

It was to one of these walled oasis towns that Roderick now brought the rescued slave girl. He did not wish to return the way he had come, and be taken as a failure, so instead he led them several days’ journey to the southeast, where a short range of age-weathered mountains offered some sparse and rocky grazing lands, with half a dozen seasonal wadis that ran for no more than a few months. The land was not fruitful enough to support a kingdom, but it did offer a welcome respite from the desolate wastes.

“Have you been to this place before, Master Roderick?” Laria asked as they approached the gates of the walled town.

“No,” Roderick admitted. “But I’ve been to enough like them.”

The tired plodding of their camel’s hooves clopped monotonously on the dusty ground. Laria took a deep breath and once again broke the silence that had fallen between them.

“Forgive me, Master Roderick, but what do you intend when we arrive?”

“I’m not your master,” Roderick said gruffly. “And as for what I intend to do, that depends on what we find. Perhaps we can find someone who can help you start a new life: someone who can teach you a trade or find you a respectable position in one of the households or guilds here.”

Laria’s face fell as she looked at him with pleading eyes.

“But I don’t want to leave you,” she said. “I don’t know how to be independent.”

Roderick sighed and stopped the camel just inside the gates of the town. He turned to Laria and looked into her eyes.

“I understand that it’s scary, Laria. But staying by my side isn’t an option. You need to take charge of your own life.”

Laria’s eyes filled with tears and she looked away from Roderick’s gaze.

“I know you think that I’m just a slave and that my life is miserable, but I’m happy with you,” she said. “I don’t want to live without you as my master.”

Roderick shook his head. He couldn’t understand why this slave girl didn’t want to be free.

“Look here, Laria,” he said sternly. “You have your own ideas and emotions. You have the power to take control of your own destiny. You deserve better than this life of slavery.”

“What else can I do?” she asked meekly.

That was a good question. He couldn’t well leave her to fend for herself in this dangerous border town–not unless he found some place that would take her without simply enslaving her again.

“Why don’t you tell me?” he asked. “Surely, you must have acquired some useful skills in your time as a slave.”

Laria paused to think about it for a moment. “Well,” she said slowly, “I am fairly good at weaving. I learned from one of my first master’s slaves, who used to weave blankets and rugs for the master to sell.”

“Excellent,” said Roderick. “Weaving is a very useful skill in these parts. Now, let’s see if this town has someone who’s willing to take you on as an apprentice.”

“But–“

He ignored her protests and dismounted, leading the camel by the reigns up to the town’s main gate.

“Ho there!” said Roderick, approaching the stout guard. “I seek a place for us to rest and spend the night.”

The guard squinted at Roderick skeptically. “And what business do you have in these parts?” he asked.

“We are travelers from a distant land. My friend is a skilled weaver who is looking for a master to apprentice with. Perchance there is one in your town?”

The guard squinted at Laria in the dim light of dusk, then turned back to Roderick again. “There may be someone who can take her on, although it’s not common for outsiders to come in and seek apprenticeship. Ask at the tavern. It’s down the main street, fifty paces from the wall.”

Roderick thanked the guard and followed him through the gate. He led the camel to the town’s watering trough and helped Laria dismount.

“I don’t want to be an apprentice weaver,” she told him through clenched teeth.

“Then maybe the tavern will take another wench,” he hissed back. “Either way, our ways part here, in this town.”

The tavern was a seedy establishment, filled with rough-looking men who eyed Laria hungrily as she followed Roderick inside. The smell of stale ale and greasy food hung heavy in the air, and the sound of raucous laughter and bawdy jokes filled the room. Roderick ignored the stares of the patrons and approached the barkeep.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless. “We are looking for a room for the night. And perhaps, if possible, a job for my companion.”

The barkeep gave them both a once-over, then nodded. “I have a room available, but as for a job for the wench,” he glanced over at Laria with a suggestive smirk, “I’m sure we can find something for her to do.”

Laria recoiled and took a step back towards Roderick, who stepped forward and placed a heavy silver coin on the counter. “We will take the room. And perhaps a meal as well.”

The barkeep’s eyes widened at the sight of the coin and he quickly handed over a key to one of the upstairs rooms. Roderick grabbed Laria’s arm and pulled her towards the stairs. He was beginning to think that coming to this place was a mistake.

Once they were inside the room, Roderick slammed the door shut and turned to face Laria. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low. “If you don’t want to stay in this place, we can leave in the morning and find another town.”

Laria looked up at him, her eyes wide and pleading. “Please, Roderick,” she begged. “I don’t want to be alone. I’ll stay with you and help you on your journey.”

Roderick shook his head, his expression firm. “It’s too dangerous,” he said. “I can’t risk putting you in harm’s way. You need to find some place to settle down.”

“Alone? In these parts? I would rather be a slave.”

Roderick softened at the desperation in her voice. He walked over to her and placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I won’t leave you alone,” he assured her. “But we need to be careful. This place is no good for us.”

Laria nodded, tears streaming down her face. “I understand,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But what will we do?”

Roderick sat down on a wooden chair and motioned for her to take the bed. “We’ll rest tonight and then head out early in the morning,” he told her. “Not all of the towns in this country are as rough as this one.”

But then, a knock came. Roderick stood up and walked cautiously towards the door. “Who is it?” he asked, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“My name is Jamal,” came a voice from outside. “I’m a merchant, of sorts, and the richest man in this town. I have a proposition to make.”

Roderick narrowed his eyes at the man. He had no idea what he wanted but he knew it wasn’t good. Reluctantly, he stepped aside and gestured for Jamal to come in.

“Thank you,” said Jamal as he entered the room. “I heard you were looking for a place for your, ahem, ‘traveling companion’ to stay and work in our town.” He nodded meaningfully in Laria’s direction. “I am more than willing to take her off of your hands, and can compensate you generously for the privilege.”

Roderick frowned. “You mean, you want to buy her? As a slave?”

Jamal paused, as if measuring Roderick’s reaction. “Yes,” he said at length. “If you wish to speak plain, that is exactly what I propose.”

Roderick was horrified. He stepped in front of Laria to protect her from his gaze. “No!” he said firmly. “She is not a piece of merchandise to be bought or sold!”

Jamal held up his hands. “It was not my intent to offend you. I merely thought that it would be a beneficial arrangement for both of you, and a profitable one for us.”

Roderick drew himself up to his full height and glared at the man. “She’s not for sale,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Jamal shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s too bad,” he said in a voice that suddenly sounded menacing. “Because if you don’t accept my offer, I know plenty of people who would be more than willing to take her off your hands.” He glanced meaningfully at Laria before turning back to Roderick with a smirk on his face.

Roderick felt rage bubble up inside him but he forced himself to remain calm. It would do no good to shed blood in this place. If the town’s guard didn’t come after him and Laria, the ruffians in the tavern certainly would. And if he died, where would Laria go then?

“You are not welcome here,” Roderick growled through gritted teeth. “Leave now before I do something we will both regret.”

“It seems you already have,” said Jamal, narrowing his gaze. Then, without another word, he slowly backed out of the room, keeping his eyes on Roderick until he was out into the hall.

As soon as he was gone, Roderick closed the door and turned to Laria. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Laria nodded, her eyes bright with gratitude. “Thank you for protecting me,” she murmured. “He did not seem like he would have made a good master.”

“Your days of having a master are over,” Roderick told her as he helped her to her feet. “Come, let’s get out of here. This town clearly isn’t safe for either of us.”

They crept out quietly into the hall and turned away from the main room, seeking some other way out to the street. Fortunately, a back door by the kitchen led to the alley behind the establishment. Roderick paused only long enough to make sure that no one saw them escape.

Ouside, they hurried through the alley, trying to make their way out of the town as quickly as possible. The sun had already set and the stars were starting to come out, leaving the narrow streets and alleys of the town shrouded in darkness. Roderick kept a tight grip on the hilt of his sword, but was still almost taken by surprise when three cloaked figures emerged from the shadows ahead of them.

Laria gasped and shrank closer to Roderick’s side as he drew his sword. The men slowly approached them, their faces hidden by deep hoods.

“What do you want?” Roderick demanded, his voice low but carrying a hint of menace.

“We have business with you,” one of them said in a gravelly voice. He gestured toward Laria with a gloved hand. “Give us the girl and you can go on your way.”

Roderick stepped protectively in front of Laria and raised his sword higher. “She is under my protection,” he said firmly. “I will not let you take her.”

The man laughed, an eerie sound that sent shivers down both Roderick and Laria’s spines. “You are brave,” he said mockingly. “But I’m afraid we cannot let you leave with her.” His two companions moved forward menacingly, blocking off any escape routes Roderick might have taken.

Roderick glanced at Laria out of the corner of his eye before turning back to face the men again. “What do you want from me?” he asked in a low voice, ready to fight.

The man smiled menacingly and held up a small pouch of coins. “We were going to offer this as payment for her,” he said slowly, dangling the pouch temptingly before them. “But it seems we can no longer be so generous.”

Roderick struck first, lunging forward with his sword. The three men dodged his attack with ease, their movements practiced and precise. They were clearly skilled fighters, and Roderick realized too late that he was outnumbered and outmatched.

Laria let out a scream as one of the cloaked figures grabbed her from behind, covering her mouth to stifle her cries. Roderick turned to see her struggling against her captor, her eyes wide with terror.

“Let her go!” he yelled, turning to face the two remaining assailants. They circled him, their swords drawn and ready for attack. Roderick gritted his teeth, wondering how he had ended up in this situation, outnumbered and outmatched. The odds were not in his favor.

He took a deep breath and steadied himself, sizing up his opponents. They were both well-built and intimidating, with the muscles in their arms rippling as they gripped their swords. Roderick knew that he had to act fast before they could strike. He lunged forward, thrusting his sword towards the first man’s chest. The man parried the attack easily, stepping back and countering with a swift slice towards Roderick’s shoulder. Roderick managed to deflect the blow, but just barely.

“Leave him,” said the man holding Laria captive. “We have the slave girl–let’s go.”

“No,” said the man circling to Roderick’s right, who was evidently their leader. “This man insulted Jamal. We should make an example.”

Roderick took advantage of the momentary distraction and lunged again, this time aiming for the leader’s belly. But the man was quick to react, dodging the attack with a deft sidestep and making a retaliatory swing towards Roderick’s head. Roderick ducked and rolled, coming back up on his feet a few paces away from his attackers. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his senses heightened and his reactions sharpened. He had fought many battles before, but this one felt different–it was personal.

He glanced quickly at Laria, who was still struggling against her captor. Her eyes locked onto his, and he could see the terror in them, but also a glimmer of hope. He knew he couldn’t let her down.

The leader stepped forward again, his sword gleaming in the moonlight. Roderick braced himself, his muscles ready to explode into action. Suddenly, an idea struck him. He remembered how the slaver had been distracted by the claw talisman, and pulled it out from under his shirt.

“Use your magic, Laria!” he shouted as he tossed it to her. Of course, he knew that she had no magic, but Jamal’s thugs didn’t know that, and he was counting on their fear and superstitions to work in his favor.

Laria caught the talisman and held it up, chanting in a language that she had never spoken before. The thugs froze, their eyes fixed on the talisman as if it was the key to their doom.

Roderick seized the opportunity and charged at the leader, his sword flashing in the air. The leader tried to block the strike, but his fear had made him slow and clumsy. Roderick’s sword cut through the leader’s defenses, slicing open his chest and spilling his guts onto the ground. The other thug lunged at him, but  Roderick parried the strike and sliced through his sword arm. He screamed in agony as Roderick held his sword to his neck. “I…I yield!” he shouted, dropping his sword and falling to his knees.

“Let her go!” Roderick shouted, turning on the last of Jamal’s men. He had released Laria as soon as she had started chanting, and now turned and fled, abandoning his dead and disarmed friends.

Roderick turned to the man who had yielded to him, and now knelt quivering on the rough, uneven cobblestones. It would be so easy to slit the man’s throat. The gods knew he probably deserved it, and in a town like this, Roderick had no doubt that he could get away with it.

But that was not Roderick’s way.

“Get out of her,” he said, knocking the man to the ground with the flat of his blad. The thug hastily scurried away and disappeared into the shadows.

Laria looked in horror at the man that Roderick had slain. His corpse lay-face down in his own gore, and the rapidly spreading pool of his blood now stained the dark cobblestones. But when she turned and looked at Roderick, she had much the same expression on her face as she’d had when he’d slain the slaver.

“You saved me again,” she said, her voice full of eager gratitude.

He snatched the claw talisman from her hand. “You didn’t do too badly yourself. Was that a real spell you chanted, or gibberish?”

“Gibberish,” she said, smiling. “I might not be strong, but I can think fast on my feet.”

“Yes, well, we’d better both be fast on our feet and get out of this place before this Jamal finds out that we’ve killed his three best men. Come.”

He hastily wiped off his blade on the shirt of the dead man and took Laria by the hand. They ran down the alley to the wall, and followed it to the watering trough where their camel still waited. Thankfully, no one had stolen it yet.

“Master Roderick,” Laria asked him as he helped her to mount the beast. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

He grunted non-committally and leapted onto the beast. A few moments later, they were free of the town, riding out into the darkness of a moonless desert night.

Laria

They arrived at the next oasis an hour before dusk. Judging from the crumbling mud-brick ruins, it had once been a thriving settlement, where caravans had rested and merchants had traded exotic wares. Laria even recognized the remnants of an old slave auction block, like many she had been sold at before. But the oasis was now abandoned, the pool of water in its center reduced to little more than a large puddle. Still, it was enough for Laria to bathe.

“We must be cautious,” Roderick urged. “The last time I was at an oasis like this, an undine nymph nearly killed me.”

Laria’s eyes widened. “You actually saw one of the fey?”

“Yes, and I have little doubt that she is watching us now.”

“Then should we move on?”

“No. If we do not water here, we will certainly die of thirst in the desert. It will be no worse if we incur her wrath.”

“But does that mean I should stay out of the water?”

He shrugged indifferently. “Do as you will. If the undine nymph will let us fill our waterskins, she probably won’t mind if you bathe.”

It had been so long since Laria had bathed that even the muddy waters looked tempting. Besides, it was an opportunity to please her new master. So as he led the thirsty camel to the pool’s edge, she shed her clothes and waded into the pool. To her surprise, he turned away.

“Why do you avert your eyes, Master Roderick?”

“Because you are naked.”

Laria’s heart sank. This was not the reaction she had hoped from him.

“Does my body displease you?”

“No,” he said quickly, his gaze still turned away from her. “On the contrary, I find your beauty to be mesmerizing.”

“Then why do you look away?”

“To grant you some privacy.”

Laria cocked her head curiously. “What is ‘privacy’?”

Roderick paused, as if taken aback by her question. But he quickly regained his composure and explained.

“Privacy is the freedom to have a space that is only for you. It matters a lot to people who are free.”

Laria gave a small nod, though the idea seemed very strange—almost silly, in fact. She had been a slave almost since her birth, and was used to men’s lusty stares. She hesitated, wondering if Roderick found her nakedness offensive, but though he averted his eyes, he otherwise didn’t seem to mind.

She cupped the warm water with her hands and poured it over her. The thick layers of grime and sweat seemed to melt away, leaving her feeling wonderfully clean. After splashing the water all over herself and rubbing her skin down with her hands, she dipped her head in the pool and began to wash her dusty, matted hair.

Roderick finished filling their waterskins and sat in the shade of a scrubby tree. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled as their eyes met, though he quickly looked away.

“Laria, where are you from?”

“I don’t know, Master Roderick. My parents sold me into slavery when I was just a child, and I’ve never known any other way of life.”

He frowned. “How could any parent do such a thing?”

“It was during the plague years, Master Roderick. I suppose it was either sell me or starve.”

“Ah.” He shifted uncomfortably, and Laria, sensing his uneasiness, quickly changed the subject.

“What about yourself, Master Roderick? What brings you out to the desert?”

“I seek the lost city of Xulthar. The evil power that dwells within those walls has cursed my family and caused the downfall of my house. I am determined to find the source of that evil and defeat it if I can.”

“I have heard about Xulthar. They say it was once a place of fabulous wealth. But why do you seek it alone?”

“I didn’t,” he told her. “Two of my soldiering friends accompanied me out to the desert, but they cared little for honor—only for the treasure itself. But when the journey grew too hard for them, they abandoned me.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. Deep down, I suppose I never expected them to come with me all of the way. No one who finds the lost city of Xulthar ever returns to the civilized world alive.”

Laria’s eyes widened. “No one?”

“Aye. It is a cursed place, and I have little hope of succeeding. But if I somehow manage to defeat the dark evil that has cursed its fabulous riches, I will use them to restore my family’s house.”

“How did your family fall?”

A dark expression fell across his face. “Ever since the end of the plague years, the cursed coin of Xulthar has circulated throughout the land. For the cruel and the wicked, the coin seems to multiply, while just and honorable men can hardly set any aside. My father spoke openly of this, and for that crime he was falsely accused of practicing dark magic, and sent into exile.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Laria said sympathetically, though she found his story difficult to understand. As a slave, she had never owned anything of herself, and found money to be a baffling subject.

“My father’s only crime was to speak the truth that no one wanted to hear,” Roderick said grimly. “There is no honor or justice in this world.”

“I think the slaver was taking me to Xulthar as well,” Laria said, hoping to distract him from his dark and brooding thoughts.

“Is that so?” Roderick asked, suddenly interested.

“Yes,” Laria told him. “Yesterday, he was mumbling and cursing to himself about it—something about the pay not being worth the journey.”

“Why was he taking you to Xulthar? The city has lain in ruins for more than a century.”

His earnestness took Laria aback. She didn’t know how to answer.

“I am sorry, Master Roderick. I’m just a slave, and don’t know very much about these sorts of things.”

“Never mind,” Roderick said gruffly. “I’ll be your guide, at least until the next town.”

Laria felt a twinge of disappointment that Roderick only thought of himself as her guide. She knew that if she failed to please him, he was likely to sell her to the first man who offered him any coin—or worse, leave her to fend for herself. She had to do everything in her power to convince him to keep her.

She had hoped to accomplish that by pleasing him with her body, but since that strategy clearly wasn’t going to work, she climbed out of the pool and donned her linen robe, not bothering to dry herself first. The sun would soon see to that. Hopefully, her clothes would set him at ease, and if the wetness made them cling to her skin, so much the better. Perhaps the key with men like her new master was to suggest more than she showed.

Roderick relaxed considerably once she was clothed. She walked over to his side and sat in the shade near his feet.

“Do you wish me to bathe you, Master?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I’ll stay here.”

“Are you sure? Not even your feet? Surely, they must be sore after walking for so—”

“My feet require no washing,” he said curtly. “Not by you, at least.”

“Why not, Master Roderick? Aren’t I your slave?”

“No, Laria. You are not a slave anymore. You are free.”

His words struck fear into Laria’s heart. Of all the things he could have told her, this was by far the worst.

“But Master Roderick, I don’t know how to live as a free person.”

“Then start by choosing your own path.”

“What does that mean?” she asked hesitantly.

“It means that you no longer have to answer to anyone but yourself,” Roderick told her. “You may act for yourself now. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Laria looked down at her bare, calloused feet. She had to admit, it would have been nice to be able to refuse the slaver. But a life of freedom was most certainly not what she wanted for herself. After all, what was the point of freedom if it made you into a beggar?

“But what if I want to please you, Master Roderick? What if I want to be your slave?”

He frowned and shook his head. “I cannot be your master, Laria. The very thought of owning another person is detestable to me.”

Laria stared at Roderick with confusion and a little awe. She had never met a man like him before. He was unlike all of her previous masters, except perhaps the first: kind and gentle, though his heart seemed encased in a hardened shell. And she had to admit, it was refreshing that he was capable of holding his lusts in check, unlike some of her previous masters.

“But I am happy as a slave,” she told him. “It gives me purpose and meaning to serve a good master. Without that, I am nothing.”

“That isn’t true, Laria. A man is defined by his thoughts and his deeds. That is as true for you as it is for me.”

Laria hugged her knees against her chest, feeling more than a little lost. How could she fend for herself in a world so full of danger and uncertainty? She could not understand how any man could refuse to be her master. Why was Roderick so adamant about this freedom, this thing that only brought her confusion and fear?

“Please, Master Roderick. I don’t know how to be free.”

“Then I will teach you.”

“But—”

“Enough,” he said brusquely, rising to his feet. “We should not linger in this place any longer than we have to. Let’s be going.”

Laria bit her lip and nodded. The hot desert air had already dried her clothes, even in the shade, and it would not be long before her hair was dry as well. She rose to her feet and ran her fingers through it for a comb.

As she walked along the edge of the pool, her eyes suddenly caught a silvery glint beneath the surface. She waded out and reached into the sun-warm water to scoop it up. It was a silver locket, its surface engraved with intricate floral designs.

“What’s this?” she asked, showing it to Roderick. His eyes widened immediately in surprise.

“I gave that locket to the nymph!” he exclaimed. “It was my payment for freeing my friends. But how did it get here? I have never been to this oasis in my life.”

“I don’t know, Master Roderick,” Laria said softly. She was just as baffled as him.

“The undine nymph’s powers must extend here, too,” he mused aloud. “Perhaps this is one of her tricks. Keep it, Laria. You found it. It’s yours.”

Laria stared at him in disbelief. She had never owned anything before, much less a piece of silver jewelry. What would she do with it? Besides, it clearly held more value for him than it did for her.

“I think I should give it back,” she said, offering it back to him with trembling fingers.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He hesitated for a moment, then took the proffered locket from her hands. “If that is what you wish,” he mumbled, slipping it around his neck.

Without another word, she followed Roderick to the camel. “Let us go,” Roderick said curtly as he mounted the beast. Laria climbed up behind him, and together they set out across the burning desert sands.

Roderick

The desert stretched from the foothills of the Kevonas to the southern reaches of the Arabuli Basin and the westernmost shores of the Vilayan Sea. Once, these lands had been green and lush, or so the legends claimed. But so many empires had since risen, fallen, and faded into myth that the barren wastes now seemed as immutable and unrelenting as the burning sun itself. On the edges of the Arabuli basin, men still strove to eke out a meager existence, laboring to make the land bloom once more, but the plague years had wiped out nearly a century of work, and deserts had steadily reclaimed their own.

Still, the wastes were not entirely void of inhabitants, so long as the caravans crossed the wastes. They did so mainly to avoid the deadly pirates of the Vilayan and the punishing tolls of the southern principalities. Wherever they went, oasis towns sprung up to serve them, with mud-brick walls for protection from the bandits who followed in the caravans’ wake.

It was to one of these walled towns that Roderick now brought the rescued slave girl. He did not wish to return the way he had come, so he led them several days’ journey to the southeast, where a short range of age-weathered mountains offered some sparse grazing. The land was not fruitful enough to support anything more than the occasional walled town, but it did offer some respite from the desolate wastes of the deep desert.

“Have you been to this place before, Master Roderick?” Laria asked as they approached the town gates.

“Nay,” Roderick admitted. “But I’ve been to enough like them.”

The tired plodding of their camel’s hooves clopped monotonously on the dusty ground. “Forgive me, Master Roderick, but what do you intend to do here?”

“I’m not your master,” Roderick gruffly replied. “And as for what I intend, that depends on what we find. With luck, we’ll find you some work soon enough.”

He glanced over his shoulder, only to see her face fall.

“But I don’t want to leave you,” she said with pleading eyes. “Besides, I have a bad feeling about this place. Something tells me that we shouldn’t stop here.”

“Nonsense,” Roderick muttered. “There’s nothing amiss about this quiet town.”

“I don’t know, Master. I’ve never had a feeling like this that turned out to be wrong.”

He sighed and stopped the camel to dismount. After taking the beast of burden by the reins, he looked up at her and held her melancholy gaze.

“You cannot come with me to Xulthar, Laria. It’s far too dangerous.”

“But—”

“You are not a slave anymore. You must learn to take charge of your own life.”

Laria’s eyes filled with tears. “I know that you think that life as a slave is miserable,” she told him, “and perhaps until you became my master, it was. But you are a good man, and I would be happy to serve as your slave.”

Roderick shook his head in frustration and disbelief. He could not understand why Laria rejected her own freedom so adamantly.

“Look here, Laria,” he said sternly. “You are not a dog, or a dumb beast of burden. You are a person, with thoughts and feelings of your own, and the power to take control of your own destiny.”

“How can you expect me to do that, when all I’ve ever known is life as a slave?”

Roderick’s expression softened. “I know that a life of slavery is all you have ever known. But you must not think of it as your only opportunity for happiness.”

“What if it is?”

“It is not,” he said firmly.

Laria paused. “For a lord of a noble house, perhaps that is true. But for one such as myself, with no wealth or family, this world is dangerous and cruel.”

“Then we will find someplace safe where you can start over,” Roderick told her. “A place such as this town. Don’t worry—I will not simply abandon you here. I’ll stay as long as it takes for you to settle down.”

“You will?” she asked.

“Yes,” Roderick reluctantly promised. He had hoped to leave her at the next tavern and continue on his quest, but clearly he could expect her to establish herself in this place. No—he would help her to secure employment, or perhaps an apprenticeship with the town weaver or midwife. It would take more time to do so than he would have liked, but time was not something he had in short supply, and he hated the thought of her falling back into slavery.

“We’ll find you an apprenticeship,” he said, walking the camel by the reins. “After you’ve learned some useful skills, you’ll have no trouble making a new life for yourself in your place.”

“Perhaps,” Laria said dubiously. “For your sake, Master Roderick, I will try. But I have seen what money can do to people, and I fear—”

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, cutting her off.

They traveled the rest of the way to the town’s main gate in silence. The ramparts of the rough stone walls were empty, but a guard stood beside the heavy iron doors, which hung open. The guard on duty rose from his bench as they approached.

“Ho there!” he called out to them. “Who goes?”

“We seek a place to rest and spend the night,” Roderick answered.

The guard squinted at him skeptically. The sun was just beginning to crest the horizon off by the western wastes, and soon it would be dark. Night always fell swiftly in the desert.

“And what business do you have here?”

“We are travelers from a distant land,” Roderick told him. “My companion is looking to settle down in these parts. As for myself, I am a seasoned warrior looking to hire out my sword.”

That last part wasn’t exactly true, but if Roderick was to spend some time in this place, he would have to employ himself somehow. Besides, he sensed that if he told the guard of his quest for the lost city of Xulthar, it would raise more questions than he cared to answer.

The guard squinted at Laria in the rapidly dimming light before turning to Roderick again. “Ask at the tavern,” he said brusquely. “It’s down the main street, fifty paces from the wall. There’s a trough by the gate where you can tie and water your camel.”

“Thank you,” said Roderick, following the guard through the gate. After tying the thirsty camel, he helped Laria to dismount.

“I still have a bad feeling about this place,” she told him as she glanced warily at the mud-brick houses and dusty alleys. The town’s main thoroughfare was unpaved, and the windows were all shuttered against the coming night.

“You’ll be safe with me,” Roderick reassured her. “Come, let us find this tavern.”

Laria

The tavern was a seedy establishment, filled with rough-looking men who eyed Laria lustily. They reminded her of some of her worst masters. The smell of stale beer and greasy food hung heavy in the air, and the sound of raucous laughter made her wish she was anywhere else. If the rest of the town was anything like this tavern, then her premonitions were likely correct and they’d made a mistake by stopping here.

She tugged on Roderick’s sleeve, trying to pull him aside so they could discuss the matter in private, but he ignored her and walked up to the barkeep on the far side of the room.

“Good evening,” he said genially. “We are looking for a room for the night. And perhaps, if possible, a job for my companion.”

No! Laria wanted to scream. Can’t you see how dangerous this place is for me? She would be like a sheep in the midst of wolves.

The barkeep gave them both a once-over, then nodded. “Aye, friends. We have a room for you. As for a job,” he glanced at Laria with a suggestive smirk, “I’m sure we can find something for her to do.”

Laria recoiled from his gaze, glancing at Roderick to gauge his reaction. But he seemed totally oblivious to the subtext beneath the barkeep’s words.

“We will take the room. And perhaps a meal as well.”

“That’ll be one silver and three coppers.”

Roderick reached for the pouch of money at his belt, then frowned and cursed slightly under his breath. Laria had seen him fill it with the coins the slaver had been carrying, but now it seemed almost empty. He withdrew his hand and opened it to reveal a single silver coin.

“We’ll take the room, anyway,” he muttered darkly. “But hold the meal for now.”

The barkeep smoothly pocketed the coin in his food-stained apron. “Down the hall, third door to your left.” From a large ring of keys on his belt, he procured one and handed it to Roderick.

The room was about what she expected: an old rug on the hard dirt floor, a crudely fashioned table with two wooden stools for chairs, a single, tightly-shuttered window, and a large, foul-smelling mattress with stained sheets. Laria had never been forced to play the harlot (thank the fates), but from stories she’d heard from those who plied the trade, it was clear that this room was frequented by women of their profession. Laria had little doubt that if Roderick left her here, she would ultimately be forced to join them. How could he be so oblivious to such things?

“It was a mistake to come here,” she told him boldly as he shut the door. “This town isn’t safe for me, Master Roderick, and I don’t think it’s safe for you either.”

“Aye,” he said softly. “I’m beginning to believe you are right.”

She brightened a little at his answer. Perhaps he wasn’t as oblivious as she’d thought.

“What must we do?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He grunted and unstrapped his belt, laying it on the table with his sword and scabbard. “I’ve already paid for the room, so we might as well stay here for the night. We’ll leave in the morning and find another town.”

His answer stunned her. If coming to this place was a mistake, then why didn’t they leave right now? True, the hills were almost certainly harboring bandits, but the town seemed no less dangerous, and the solitary desert was only a short hour’s ride away. Then she remembered Roderick’s coin pouch, and how distraught he had seemed upon finding it nearly empty. But how could he let money be his master, especially if he was supposed to be free? What was the point of freedom if it meant being a slave to one’s money?

“Please, Master Roderick,” she urged him. “You’re not going to bring back that silver by spending the night in this place.”

Roderick turned his back to her and mumbled something inaudible as he began to unstrap his armor. Perhaps she had pushed him too far.

“Forgive me, Master. I spoke too—”

“For the hundredth time, I am not your master!” he growled moodily. “The entire purpose of bringing you here was to help you to be free.”

She frowned. “But didn’t you tell me that I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to?”

“Yes,” he conceded.

“Well, I’ve already told you that I don’t want to leave you. So even if you will not have me to be your slave, the least you can do is allow me to go with you to Xulthar.”

“Not so loud!” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder. “We can’t risk letting these ruffians overhear.”

Does that mean I’m coming with you? she thought but did not ask. No sense in pressing her luck just yet. Even if he only saw her as a traveling companion, that was better than before.

Just at that moment, a knock came at the door to their room. Laria and Roderick looked at each other, her in confusion, him in alarm. Had she made a mistake by mentioning the name of Xulthar?

“Who is it?” Roderick asked, hastily redoing the straps of his armor.

“My name is Jamal,” came the voice from the hall. “I’m a merchant of sorts, and the richest man in this town. I have come to make you a proposition.”

Instantly, Laria disliked the man. She shook her head at Roderick, but he motioned for her to stay quiet as he opened the door.

“What sort of proposition?” he asked.

Jamal casually stepped past him into the room. He was a tall, spindly man, with a dark red cape and a thick, black goatee. His deeply set eyes scanned the room before resting inexorably upon her.

“So this is your ‘traveling companion.’ I hear from the barkeep that you are looking for some, ah, employment for this girl.”

His words sent an uncomfortable chill down Laria’s spine. She’d seen his type before: there was always at least one of them at the slave auctions, scrutinizing her carefully with his cold, calculating eyes. While most men regarded her as little more than livestock, his type saw her as meat to be slaughtered. She had no idea what he intended for her, but she knew it could not be good.

In desperation, she looked to Roderick, whose hand moved reflexively for his sword. It was not on his waist, though; he had left it lying on the table.

The man turned smoothly to face him, though if he had noticed the gesture, he made no sign of it. He was dangerously difficult to read.

“Here is my proposition,” he said, reaching for his bulging money pouch. “I am more than willing to take her off of your hands, and can compensate you generously for the privilege.”

Roderick frowned. “You mean, you want to buy her? As a slave?”

Jamal paused, as if measuring Roderick’s reaction. “I see you are a plain-speaking man of action,” he answered at length. “I like that. It is something I can respect.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“Very well. To put it plainly, yes, that is what I propose.”

For an instant, Laria feared that Roderick would take the trade. Thankfully, he did not disappoint her. His lips curled back in a snarl, and he quickly stepped between her and Jamal.

“She’s not for sale,” he growled.

Jamal raised an eyebrow. “You are a solitary traveler in a strange country, with a conspicuously empty purse. Without any money, you will not make it far in the caravan towns of these parts. Or perhaps you would try your luck in the deep desert, from which few men ever return?”

Roderick drew himself up to his full height and glared at the man. “She’s not for sale,” he repeated, his voice dangerously low.

“That’s a pity,” Jamal replied. “It would not be wise of you to reject my offer, as you may not get another one after I leave this room.”

Roderick clenched his fists in a manner that made Laria worry he would do something even more unwise than rejecting Jamal’s offer.

“You are not welcome here,” he said through gritted teeth. “Leave now before I do something we will both regret.”

“It seems you already have,” said Jamal, narrowing his gaze. Then, with one last bone-chilling glance at Laria, he turned and left the room.

As soon as he was gone, Roderick shut the door. “Are you all right?” he asked her.

Laria nodded, releasing a long breath as the tension melted out of her. “Thank you, Master Roderick, for protecting me from that man. I have a feeling that he would have made for a terrifying master.”

“Your days of having any master are over,” Roderick said gruffly as he helped her to her feet. “Come, let us leave this town. It clearly isn’t safe for either of us anymore.”

Roderick

Roderick and Laria crept quietly out into the hall and turned away from the main room, seeking some other way out to the street. Fortunately, a back door by the kitchen led to an alley behind the tavern. Roderick paused only long enough to make sure no one had seen them escape.

Outside, the sun had already set and the stars were starting to shine through the purple light of dusk, leaving the streets and alleys shrouded in darkness. No torches had been lit yet, if indeed any of the lowlife scum of this town bothered with such civilized amenities. Roderick should have known that nothing good could come from these greedy caravan towns. He could see now that he’d been a fool to try and leave Laria in a place such as this.

He kept a tight grip on his sword hilt as they hurried toward the wall. Thankfully, the town was small enough that it was impossible to get lost, though if it were much bigger, these dangerous alleys and darkened streets would have made for a veritable maze.

The walls were in sight when three cloaked figures emerged from the shadows ahead of them. Laria gasped and shrank closer to Roderick as he unsheathed his sword.

“Ho there,” Roderick called, his voice carrying a hint of menace. “What do you want?”

“We have business with you,” one of them said in a gravelly voice. He gestured toward Laria with a gauntleted hand. “Give us the girl and you can go on your way.”

“Nay,” said Roderick, placing himself between her and them. “She is under my protection. I will not let you take her!”

The first man laughed as the other two drew swords and daggers. “You certainly are brave, but we cannot simply allow you to leave—not after how you defied our employer.”

Roderick struck first, lunging at the man who was their leader. He drew his blade with impressive speed, parrying the blow while his comrades countered Roderick’s attack. They all were clearly skilled fighters, and with three against one, Roderick was dangerously outmatched.

Laria screamed as one of the cloaked figures grabbed her from behind, dropping his dagger to do so. She struggled valiantly against her captor’s grip, kicking his feet and biting his gloved hand. She was too weak to have much of an effect, though her struggles made it impossible for the man to carry her off.

But Roderick soon saw that that was not their aim. They only wanted to prevent Laria from escaping before they had finished him. Even in the dusky shadows, he could see the bloodlust in their eyes, and could feel that their blows were calculated to kill.

I did not come this far to die in this accursed den of desert thieves, Roderick thought as he barely managed to parry a ferocious attack. The riposte sent his would-be murderer stumbling backward, but the other man renewed his attack, forcing Roderick to turn.

They were trying to circle around him, one to the left, the other to the right. Roderick had to step quickly to keep them from doing so. If he were facing only one of them, his broadsword could easily shatter their narrow and flimsy blades, but against two, speed made them formidable. As soon as one of them managed to get behind his back, they would surely make grisly work of him.

“Roderick!” Laria shouted, her eyes wide with terror. The henchman who held her tightened his grip.

“Let her go!” Roderick bellowed. The leader of the thugs lowered his sword and laughed.

“You want us to release her? Very well. Surrender, and we will let her go free. You will make a fine galley slave on the Vilayan Sea.”

“I thought we were to make an example of him,” the third man said. With the lull in the fighting, Roderick saw that the man’s brow was dripping with sweat. He must have been doing better against these thugs than he had thought.

“And so we shall,” sneered the leader. “What will it be? Make your choice!”

Roderick braced himself, his muscles ready to explode into action. Suddenly, he remembered how the slaver in the desert had been distracted before his death. He smiled and stabbed his sword into the dirt of the unpaved street.

“There,” said the leader, relaxing his guard. “Wise decision. If only you had—”

“Use your magic, Laria!” Roderick shouted as he tossed her the claw talisman. Her captor was momentarily distracted, and she used that moment to break free.

Catching the talisman in her outstretched hands, she lifted it into the air and began to chant. The henchman hesitated, uncertain whether to grab her again or to fall back. The other two froze as well, their eyes fixated on the talisman as if it were the key to their doom.

And in a sense, it was—just not in the way they expected.

Roderick seized the opportunity and charged at the leader, snatching his sword and swinging it with all his strength. The man crossed blades in an effort to stop the strike, but he was caught off guard, and fear of Laria’s non-existent magic made him slow and clumsy. Roderick’s sword easily broke his flimsy defense, slicing open his chest and spilling his guts onto the ground.

The other man lunged, but Roderick parried the strike and sent a devastating riposte that slashed his arm. He screamed in agony and dropped his sword. “Yield!” he shouted, falling to his knees.

Roderick spun to face the last remaining henchman, who found himself at a severe disadvantage. Whatever Jamal paid his men, it wasn’t enough to keep this one in the fight. He turned and fled down the darkened alley, abandoning his comrades.

With rage still burning in his heart and adrenaline still coursing through his veins, Roderick now turned to the wounded man who knelt quivering on the rough, uneven ground. It would be so easy to slit his throat. The gods knew that he deserved it, and in an unruly town like this one, Roderick did not think he would be missed.

But that was not Roderick’s way.

“Get out of here,” he said, knocking the man to the ground with the flat of his blade. The would-be murderer scurried hastily into the shadows.

Laria looked in horror at the man that Roderick had slain. His corpse lay prone in his own gore, and his blood was seeping rapidly into the thirsty ground. But when she turned and looked at Roderick, her face bore much the same expression as it had when he’d slain the slaver.

“You saved me again,” she said, her voice full of gratitude.

He took the claw talisman from her hand. “You fared well enough for yourself, Laria. Was that a real spell you chanted, or gibberish?”

“Gibberish,” she told him. “I might not be strong, but I can think fast on my feet.”

“Aye, that you can. Now we’d best get out of this place before Jamal learns that we’ve slain his men. Come.”

He hastily wiped his blade on the shirt of the dead man before sheathing it, then took Laria by the hand. They followed the wall to the watering trough where their camel still waited. Thankfully, no one had stolen it yet.

“Master Roderick,” Laria asked him as he helped her mount the beast. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

He grunted noncommittally as he mounted the camel with her. The guard on duty made no move to stop them, and within a few moments they were free of the town, riding out into the darkness of a moonless desert night.

<< Chapter 3 << The Riches of Xulthar >> Chapter 5 >>

Roderick

The sky was blood-red as the settting sun cast its final rays across the desolate landscape of the wasteland. The earth was cracked and parched, and the air was thick with dust and despair. Roderick stood alone in this midst of this barren terrain, clad in tattered armor, the disgraced colors of his family’s house faded and caked with dirt.

The journey to the fabled treasure city of Xulthar had been long and treacherous. His companions had already abandoned him, leaving him to brave the dangers of the wasteland alone. If not for the words of the old sibyl, he would have abandoned the quest himself. But the city of Xulthar was not a mere fable—otherwise, she would not have warned him against its treasure. And if he was to be cursed either way, better to brave whatever evils awaited him in that ancient and forgotten city than to turn from his quest now.

As night fell and the moon rose, Roderick sought shelter in the ruins of an old caravanserai. Its crumbling walls were adorned with faded and broken mosaics, and its dusty courtyard was filled with an eerie silence. Roderick drew his sword as he explored its darkened recesses, his senses alert for danger.

Sure enough, he was not alone.

A guttural growl echoed through the air. Roderick spun on his heel just in time to see a pair of red, glowing eyes staring at him from the shadows. A monstrous creature, half-human, half-beast, lunged at him with razor-sharp claws. Roderick parried and sent a riposte at the beast’s throat, but the creature was fast and agile, evading his strike with unnatural speed.

Roderick parried desperately as the beast attacked with primal ferocity. Fear gripped his heart as he felt its claws tearing through the air, barely missing him in a flurry of deadly swipes. Struggling to keep up, Roderick’s muscles burned with effort and his vision began to blur from the sheer force of his opponent’s strength. With every ounce of energy left in him he lunged forward, plunging his sword into the creature’s chest and severing its arm with one final strike.

The beast fell to the ground, stunned and weakened from loss of blood. As Roderick looked on, the creature’s red eyes faded, and its grotesque body transformed into that of a man clad in ragged and bloodied clothes.

Roderick stared down at the man he had slain, his sword still poised in a defensive stance. He felt his heart pounding in his chest as he took a step closer to the fallen man, anxious about what he would say.

The man choked out words between gasps for air, “You… you killed me.” Roderick could feel the guilt grip him as he answered back, “I had no choice. You attacked me.” The man’s eyes held fear and sorrow and with a labored breath, he said, “I was lost… searching for something better in Xulthar, but I found only death.”

“Have your eyes beheld the city?” Roderick asked. He reached for his waterskin and pressed it to the dying man’s lips.

The man drank eagerly, though his strength was rapidly fading. “Aye, my friend. Like you, I sought the riches of Xulthar, but its magic… it twisted me into a monster.”

Roderick watched with a sinking heart as the sick man’s eyelids fluttered, and his breathing became more labored. The man’s gaze finally fixed on the arm he had severed from himself in desperation—the limb that still grasped the scaly form of the beast he had been until recently. His hand trembled as he reached out to Roderick, his words sent shivers down his spine. Listening to the man’s plea, Roderick felt a surge of pity mixed with fear as he remembered the sibyl’s warning about the treacherous nature of his quest.

“Listen… Xulthar… it’s not what you think. It’s not a city of riches… but of sorcery… a cursed place… the Dark King… oh God, I can still see his eyes!”

“Steady,” said Roderick, holding the man as he began to convulse in his death throes. “Steady. It will all be over soon.”

The man’s eyes held a flicker of gratitude even as he faded. Then, in his final moments, they suddenly became lucid again.

“My arm… the claws… you must take the claws. Fashion them into a totem… they will protect you… they will protect you from him…”

“From what?” Roderick asked, his voice urgent. He again pressed the waterskin to the dying man’s lips, but this time, he did not drink.

“Wealth and power… lured into a trap… it’s a lie… it’s all a lie…”

The last words of the dying man rang out in the silence, and his empty husk slumped onto the unforgiving ground. Roderick gently closed those eyes and laid him to the rest, a sense of crushing sorrow consuming him. The cold night air clawed through his skin like icy talons, and the moonlight illuminated the stillness like an omen of death.

He began to pile rocks atop the fallen man’s body, in an attempt to form a makeshift grave. The hard ground mocked him, refusing to give way to his efforts. A gust of wind blew through the desolate landscape, dispersing the chill night air across the ruins. But no matter how high he built it, he could not escape the haunting echo of those final words:

My arm… the claws… you must take the claws!

As Roderick dropped the last stone on the pile, his eyes fell again on the severed arm. The flesh had wrinkled and was already beginning to putrify, but the claws still gleamed in the moonlight.

“Very well, my friend,” Roderick said to the empty air. “I will accept your gift.”

It took him the rest of the night, but he pried the claws from the cursed and black-bloodied flesh, and bore a hole at the base of each of them. From the leathern strap of his wineskin, he fashioned a passable thread. And when the hot desert sun rose the next morning, Roderick set out with the cursed man’s claws hanging like an uncanny talisman from his neck.

Laria

The sun blazed mercilessly over the barren wasteland, burning Laria’s fair and tender skin. The rocky ground burned her bare feet like a furnace of heat and grit. She wore naught but a leather loincloth to shield her from the sun and stinging sand, and the heat of the desert made her pant with thirst.

“Please, master,” she begged the slave trader who held her captive. “May I have some water?”

“Quiet!” he snapped, tugging on the rope that bound her wrists. She stumbled, nearly cutting her bare feet on the sharp gravel of the desert floor, and whimpered as she struggled to keep up with his sauntering camel.

He was not the worst master she’d had, though admittedly he was far from the best. She missed the days of her childhood, under her first master: the old, rich man her parents had sold her to. Of all her masters, he had been the kindest to her, treating her as a member of his household and requiring almost no labor from her at all. Sadly, the plague did not distinguish between the kind and the wicked, the master and the slave.

“Master,” she asked, “why must we take this road that leads through such a desolate and untraveled waste?”

The beady-eyed slaver sneered at her from his perch atop the camel’s solitary hump. “More questions, eh? Your throat must not be parched yet if you think to ask me that.”

“Please,” she whimpered. “It’s just that I’m not used to the desert. All my life, I”ve—”

“Spare me your life’s story,” he said impatiently. From the anger in his voice, she dared not open her mouth again.

She looked up at the undulating dunes and rocky crests of the desert waste. In all directions, there was no sign of human habitation, nor—wait, what was that? Was it a man, traveling alone by foot, or in her heat-induced delerium had her fluttering eyes deceived her?

No. It was certainly a man, crossing the desert without horse or camel. Though he was alone, he carried a large sword strapped to his back, and other weapons beside. He stood incredibly tall, more than a head taller than Laria, with broad shoulders and muscular chest and arms. His shoulder-length hair was brown, and as they drew near, his deep blue eyes seemed almost to penetrate her. She shivered in spite of the heat.

“Ah, a fellow traveler,” the slaver called out in greeting, his beady eyes gleaming with greed. “Looking for some company, are you?”

The traveler’s eyes were sad, though, as if he carried a burden that was almost too much to bear. Laria couldn’t help but wonder at that. What was this burden that he carried? Was it guilt? No, his expression carried none of the ugliness or cruelty she’d seen in her worst masters, or the brutality she’d seen etched into the faces of men of the criminal underworld. And the longer he gazed upon her… was some of his sadness for her?

Surely this man would be a kind and a benevolent master, she realized as she halted beside the camel, all too grateful for the chance to rest. She smiled and drew herself up, doing her best to look pretty. More than anything else, she desired a kind and a gentle master–though not so gentle that she could not please him with her feminine wiles.

“Do you like her?” the slaver asked, leering at her. “She’s a rare beauty, isn’t she? Yours for the right price.”

The slaver’s words echoed in Laria’s head as she tried to maintain her composure. She had been sold as a slave before, but never had she been in such a vulnerable position. Her eyes flickered towards the man who was gazing at her, and she could see his eyes soften as he looked at her.

Please, Laria inwardly begged, calling upon the names of all the gods that she could remember. Let this man find me pleasing enough to make me his slave!

“I have no coin for your wares,” the man growled, shattering Laria’s hopes.

The slaver’s smile turned into a sneer. “No coin, eh?” Well, then I’ll just have to take what I want.”

In a single swift motion, the slaver leaped from his camel at the traveler, drawing a wickedly curved blade. Laria’s eyes widened in shock, but before she could scream, the traveler’s sword leaped into his hands, meeting the slaver’s attack with righteous ferocity. The clash of steel echoed across the desert as the two fighters engaged in a deadly dance of blades.

Now Laria dared not scream, for fear that it would break the traveler’s concentration. Instead, she watched with baited breath as he struck and withdrew, parried and riposted. The slaver was skilled, but the traveler was no novice. To Laria’s surprise, the slaver’s eyes widened in fear as he realized he was outmatched.

“Yield!” he cried, stepping back out of the traveler’s reach. “Yield! Please–have mercy!”

His plea for clemency gave the traveler pause–and quick as a wink, the slaver lunged at her, grabbing her violently by her arm. She yelped in surprise as he pressed his wicked blade against her neck, holding her in front of him like a shield.

“Drop your sword, or I slit her throat!”

Laria had no doubt that the slaver would do it. To him, she was nothing more than merchandise, and if the cost of his life was the loss of her own, he would make that trade in an instant. Terror and exhaustion froze her to the spot.

Her eyes met the traveler’s. Don’t do it! she inwardly begged, knowing that if he dropped his blade, her cruel and vindictive master would make him a slave. Besides, what was the value of her life to a man of noble bearing like him? She did not want to die, but likewise she did not want anyone else to suffer on her behalf.

To her horror, the traveler heeded the slaver’s words and dropped his sword on the dusty ground. “Good,” said the slaver. “Now, kindly wrap that cord around your wrists.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else the girl dies!” the slaver snapped. He pressed the point of his dagger between Laria’s breasts, making her squeal in spite of herself.

Never before had a man sacrificed aught for her sake. And yet, here stood a man who had willingly dropped his sword, when he could have pressed his advantage and defeated his enemy at the cost of her life. But the traveler was not stupid, she was gratified to see. His thews taught with defiance, he clenched and unclenched his fists, waiting to see what the slaver would do.

With the slaver’s knife at her heart, Laria hardly dared to breath, else she would have urged the traveler to save himself. Instead, she kept herself as still and unmoving as possible, anxiously waiting to see which man would win the contest.

“Where did you get that talisman?” the slaver asked, breaking the tense silence. In all of the recent action, Laria had hardly noticed it, but the slaver’s greedy eyes were trained to look for profit, no matter the circumstances.

In the end, his greed was his undoing.

The traveler smiled wanly, then lunged and swung his fist with speed born of desperation. The slaver, momentarily distracted, was unable to react in time to meet his blow, or to plunge his wicked knife into Laria’s breasts. He cursed and stumbled backward, releasing her, and she fell to the ground.

Quickly, she rolled away from the two men, just as much to avoid getting in the traveler’s way as to escape the slaver. When she finally rose, bruised but otherwise unhurt, she turned just in time to see the traveler plunge the slaver’s own knife deep into his heart.

Thank the heavens! Laria inwardly prayed as she realized that her cruel master was no more.

The traveler stood over the slaver’s lifeless body, catching his breath and surveying his surroundings. Laria watched him, curious but cautious. She knew the ways of men like him, brave warriors who slayed their enemies without a second thought. But she also knew that they were usually more honorable and fair than those who trafficked in slaves.

“Who are you?” Laria asked, cautious but intrigued.

The traveler turned to face her, his sword still in hand. “I am Roderick, an adventurer, and you are?”

“Your slave,” she answered, lowering her gaze.

Roderick took a step forward and she flinched, not sure what to expect. But to her surprise, he sheathed his sword and held out a hand to help her up.

“Don’t worry,” he said in a gruff voice. “I won’t hurt you.”

A flood of relief washed over Laria as she accepted his hand. Fate had truly smiled upon her, answering her prayers by sending her a kind and benevolent master. She only hoped that he found her pleasing enough to keep her.

Roderick

Roderick turned his attention to the young woman who had been offered to him as a slave. She looked up at him with a mixture of relief and gratitude, as well as something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Give me your hands,” he said, noticing the rope that still bound her wrists.

The young woman lowered her eyes and held out her hands. He drew his dagger and swiftly sliced through the ropes binding them.

“You’re free now, girl. What is your name?”

For several moments, she stared at her unbound wrists in dumb disbelief. Realizing that she was delirious with thirst, Roderick gave her his waterskin and helped to wring out the last few drops. There was plenty more water in the camel’s saddlebags anyway.

“Here,” he said, pulling out one of the slaver’s spare robes and tossing it to her. “Use this to clothe your nakedness.”

“Th-thank you,” the girl stammered.

Roderick shrugged and averted his eyes as she dressed. The robe hung loosely on her slender frame, but it would shield her from the worst of the desert sun. He searched the slaver’s bags and found a white headscarf, which the girl took gratefully.

“Now, what is your name?”

“My name is Laria,” the girl said, falling on her knees. “But you may call me whatever pleases you.”

Roderick frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Master,” she repeated, holding out her hands. “Please—let me be your slave. I have nowhere else to go, and I fear I won’t survive in this wilderness.”

Her strange request took Roderick aback. 

“By all the horns of hell, girl!” he bellowed. “Did you think I would abandon you in this waste? Come, let us travel together as companions, at least until the next oasis.”

“Yes, Master,” said the girl, as subservient as before.

Roderick regarded her coolly, his brow furrowed in consternation. “Call me Roderick,” he muttered.

“Yes, Master Roderick.”

“Not ‘Master.’ Just ‘Roderick.’”

She opened her mouth as if to say “Yes, Master,” but caught herself first. Roderick turned away in disgust.

“Do I displease you, Master Roderick?”

“Why should it matter whether or not you please me? Stand up—you are free!”

Reluctantly, Laria rose to her feet. “Roderick,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper, “I owe you my life—my everything. I have nothing to offer you in return, but myself.”

Roderick sighed, torn between his sense of honor and Laria’s persistent desire to be his slave. 

“Laria, you owe me nothing. I saved you because it was right, not because I expected anything in return.”

“But I have nothing without you, Roderick,” Laria pleaded with him. “I have no family, no home—no one to care for me, no one to guide me. If you will not have me as your slave, I fear that I will perish. Please, let me serve you.”

After a long internal struggle, Roderick finally nodded. “Very well, Laria. If you truly desire to serve me, I will not turn you away. But know that you are my companion, my equal. You are free to make your own choices and to live your life as you see fit. Do you understand?”

Laria’s face broke into a smile, and she threw herself at his feet. “Thank you, Master Roderick! I will do my best to serve you in any way I can!”

Good grief, Roderick thought. Can this girl do nothing for herself? Still, at least the matter was settled, though something told him it would be a problem again soon enough.

“Come,” he said, pulling the camel down to let her mount it. “Let us be on our way.”

She stood up again and hesitated, as if unsure what to do.

“Well?” he said impatiently. “Climb up and let us go!”

“But Master Roderick, where will you ride?”

“Ride?” he said angrily. “I will walk. You will ride.”

“No, Master Roderick. I cannot ride in comfort while you walk. It—it wouldn’t be right.”

He groaned and ran his fingers impatiently through his hair. “Very well. We will both ride—and if the camel dies of exhaustion before we arrive at the next oasis, then I suppose we will both have to walk!”

With that, he retrieved his sword and mounted the camel. Against the animal’s protestations, Laria climbed on behind him, and with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, they set out.

3. Encounters in the Wastes

Roderick

The sky shone blood-red as the setting sun cast its dying rays across the desolate landscape. The ground was parched, and the air was thick with dust and despair. Roderick stood alone in the midst of this barren terrain, his armor tarnished, his family colors faded and caked with dirt.

Ever since his companions had abandoned him to brave the dangers of the desert alone, the hours had passed like days, the days like entire weeks. To conserve his strength, he traveled mostly at dusk and early morning, when the hot desert air turned surprisingly chill. But his provisions were starting to run short, and he did not know how much longer it would be possible to go on like this before he perished from heat and hunger.

As the moonless night deepened, he sought shelter in the ruins of an old caravanserai. Faded and broken mosaics adorned its crumbling walls, and an eerie silence filled its dusty courtyard. Roderick drew his sword, keeping alert for danger.

Sure enough, he was not alone.

A low, guttural growl broke the eerie silence. Roderick spun and saw a pair of red, glowing eyes glaring from the depths of the shadows. A monstrous creature, half-human, half-beast, lunged at him with razor-sharp claws.

Roderick parried as the beast attacked him with a ferocity that was purely primal. He sent a riposte at the beast’s throat, but the creature was too fast, evading his strike with unnatural speed. Before Roderick could react, the beast renewed its furious attack.

Fear gripped Roderick’s heart as the beast’s claws tore through the air in a flurry of deadly strikes. He parried again, struggling to keep up with the monster’s furious speed. But Roderick was no greenhorn. Sensing an opening, he lunged and severed the creature’s arm.

The beast fell stunned to the ground. Blood gushed out of the fatal wound, and the beast’s ferocious strength departed as it thrashed about in its final, deadly throes.

But as the creature’s red eyes faded, and its grotesque body transformed into that of a man clad in ragged and bloodied clothes. This was no mere beast, but a civilized man transformed by magic to take the shape of a beast of the wild.

Roderick stared in disbelief at the man that he had slain. His heart pounded as he took a step closer, anxious to hear what the shapeshifter would say.

“You… you killed me.”

“I had no choice,” said Roderick, his victory tempered by shame. “You struck first. If I had not defended myself, I would be the one lying in a pool of my own gore.”

“Aye,” croaked the dying man. His eyes held a deep sorrow, and with a labored breath, he said: “Ever since Xulthar… all I have seen is death.”

“Have you eyes truly beheld the fabled city?” Roderick asked. He reached for his waterskin and pressed it to the dying man’s lips.

The man drank eagerly, though his strength was rapidly fading. “Aye, my friend. Like you, I sought the riches of Xulthar, but its magic… it twisted me into a monster.”

Roderick watched with a sinking heart as the dying man’s breath became more labored. He sought the city of Xulthar, Roderick thought silently. Sought it, and found it! And yet, with the awful curse he had borne, Roderick could not shake the somber thought that this man’s terrible fate might yet be his own.

The man’s gaze fixed on the arm that Roderick had severed—the limb that still held to the hairy form of the beast. With his remaining good hand, he reached out to Roderick, trembling with the last of his strength.

“Listen, friend. Xulthar… it’s not what you think. It’s not a city of riches… but of sorcery… a cursed place… the Dark King… oh God, I can still see his eyes!”

“Steady,” said Roderick, holding the man as he began to convulse. “Steady. It will all be over soon.”

The man’s eyes held a flicker of gratitude even as the life gradually faded out of them. Then, in his final moments, they suddenly became lucid again.

“My arm… the claws… you must take the claws! Fashion them into a totem… they will protect you… they will protect you from…”

“From what?” Roderick asked urgently. He again pressed the waterskin to the dying man’s lips, but this time, he did not drink.

“Wealth and power… lured into a trap… it’s a lie… it’s all a lie…”

The man’s last words echoed in the desolate silence, and his lifeless frame slumped onto the stony ground. Roderick gently closed his eyes. As he did so, a crushing sense of sorrow suddenly consumed him. The cold night air seemed to claw at him with icy talons, and the starry band of the galaxy stretched like a high road to the eternal void beyond the Mortal Realm.

Without thinking, he began to pile rocks on top of the fallen man’s body. The sun-parched ground was unfit for grave digging, so he piled a cairn instead. But no matter how high he built it, he could not escape the haunting echo of those final words:

My arm… the claws.. you must take the claws!

As Roderick dropped one final stone on the pile, his eyes fell again on the severed arm. The black flesh had wrinkled and was already beginning to putrefy, but the claws still gleamed in the starlight.

“Very well, friend,” Roderick spoke to the empty air. “I will accept your gift.”

It took him the rest of the night, but he pried the claws from the black-bloodied flesh and bore a hole with his knife through the base of each. From the leather strap of his waterskin, he fashioned a passable thread. And when the daylight began to dawn, Roderick set out with the cursed man’s claws hanging like an uncanny talisman from his sun-bronzed neck.

Laria

The sun blazed mercilessly over the barren wasteland, caking the salt of Laria’s sweat on her already burned skin. The rocky ground felt like the floor of a gritty furnace, and the rocks felt like flint against her bare and tender feet. She stepped as carefully as she could, but it was difficult, seeing as her hands were bound, and the other end of the rope was tied to a camel that never seemed to grow tired.

“Please,” she begged the slave trader who drove her so relentlessly. “May I have some water?” She wore nothing but a leather loincloth to shield her from the sun, and the heat of the desert made her pant with thirst.

“Quiet!” snapped the slaver, tugging on the rope. She stumbled, nearly cutting her feet on a jagged rock, and barely recovered fast enough to keep the camel from dragging her.

As cruel as he could be, though, the slaver was not the worst master who’d owned her. She missed the happier days of her childhood under the old rich man her parents had sold her to. Of all her previous masters, he was by far the kindest, treating her as a member of his household and requiring almost no labor from her at all. Sadly, the plague had not discriminated between the kind and the cruel, the master and the slave.

“Master,” she asked, “why must we take this road that leads through such a desolate waste?”

The beady-eyed slaver sneered at her from his perch. “More questions, eh? Your throat must not be as parched as you think.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just not used to the desert. All my life, I’ve—”

“Spare me your life’s story, slave,” he said. From the tone of his voice, it was clear that he would just as soon talk with the camel as with her. She bit her lip and revised her estimate of the man, ranking him in the bottom five of all her previous masters. At least he would sell her soon.

She glanced over the undulating dunes and rocky crests of the desert. In every direction, there was no sign of human habitation, nor—wait, what was that? Was it a man, or in her delirium had her eyes deceived her?

No. It was certainly a man, traversing the hostile desert on foot. Though alone, he was armed with a large sword, and other weapons beside. He stood more than a head taller than Laria, with broad shoulders and muscular chest and arms. He wore a loose headscarf that didn’t quite cover his brownish-red shoulder-length hair, and as he drew nearer, his deep blue eyes seemed to see right through her. She shivered in spite of the heat.

“Ah, a fellow traveler,” the slaver called out in greeting. “Looking for some feminine comfort?”

Though the slaver’s demeanor was friendly enough, his eyes gleamed with greed. She knew he had no intention of selling her. As for the traveler himself, his eyes were unusually sad, as if he carried a burden that was too much for him to bear. Laria couldn’t help but wonder at that. Was it guilt that harried him? Shame at his past deeds? No—his expression carried none of the ugliness or cruelty she’d seen in her worst masters. In fact, he struck her as a good and decent man.

She smiled and drew herself up, doing her best to look pleasing to him. She had a premonition that her luck was about to change.

“Do you like her?” The slaver asked in a leery tone. “She’s a rare beauty, isn’t she? Yours for the right price.”

Please don’t let him fall for the slaver’s trap! Laria prayed to whatever gods would listen to a slave. And yet, she held her tongue, knowing that if she warned him, the slaver would have her hide—and probably enslave the traveler just the same.

Or would he? The traveler carried a large broadsword on his belt, and wore a heavy coat of scale armor that must have been miserable under this burning sun. The very sight of it almost made her grateful to be wearing only a loincloth. But though his brow was soaked in sweat, he seemed so strong and powerfully built that the armor was hardly a burden for him. That was doubtless the reason why the slaver had not drawn his weapon and forced the man to submit to his bonds. In a straight contest between them, the slaver would be hard pressed to hold his own.

The traveler gazed sadly upon her, and she realized with a start that his sadness was for her. That surprised her, since most men treated slaves little better than common livestock. And why should they? If shepherds braved danger and death for their sheep, and horsemen prized and cherished their purebred steeds, what more could she possibly ask? But this man looked at her in a way that few men ever had. She remembered her premonition, and sensed that he would make a kind and benevolent master.

“I have no coin for your wares,” he growled. The slaver’s smile swiftly turned into a sneer.

“No coin, eh? Well, then I’ll just have to take what is mine.”

“Look out!” Laria shouted just before the slaver made his attack. The slaver leaped from his camel, wielding his wickedly curved blade, but the stranger’s sword was already in his hands, and he parried the first blow with ease. The clash of steel echoed across the desert as the two fighters engaged in a deadly dance of blades.

Now Laria dared not scream, for fear that it would break the traveler’s concentration. Instead, she watched with bated breath as he struck and withdrew, parried and reposted. The slaver was skilled, but the traveler was clearly a seasoned warrior. Soon, the slaver’s eyes widened as he realized he was outmatched. Laria’s heart leaped at the sight.

“Yield!” the slaver cried, stepping out of the traveler’s reach. “Yield! Please—have mercy!”

His plea for clemency gave the noble-hearted traveler pause—and quick as a wink, the slaver lunged at Laria, grabbing her violently by her arm. She yelped in surprise as he pressed his wicked blade against her neck, holding her like a shield.

“Drop your sword, or I slit her throat!”

Laria had no doubt that he would do it. To him, she was nothing more than merchandise, and if the loss of her life was the cost of his own, he would make that trade in an instant.

Her gaze met the traveler’s. Don’t surrender yourself! she begged him with her eyes, knowing that if he dropped his blade, the cruel and vindictive slaver would make him a slave. Besides, what was the value of her life to a free man like him? She did not want to die, but likewise she did not want for him to suffer on her behalf.

To her horror, the traveler dropped his sword.

“Good,” said the slaver, cheering considerably. “Now, kindly wrap that cord around your wrists.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else the girl dies!” the slaver snapped. He pressed the point of his dagger between Laria’s breasts, making her squeal.

Never had a man sacrificed anything for her sake. And yet, here stood a man who had given up his sword for her, when he could have easily slain his opponent at the cost of her life. But the traveler was not entirely stupid, she was gratified to see. His muscular arms were taught with defiance as he clenched and unclenched his fists, waiting to see how the slaver would react.

With her master’s knife still pointed at her heart, Laria hardly dared to breathe. Don’t do it, she inwardly pleaded, knowing that the moment the traveler’s wrists were bound, he would be a slave like her.

“Where did you get that talisman?” the slaver asked, breaking the tense silence. His greedy eyes were trained to look for profit, no matter the circumstances.

The traveler smiled wanly, then lunged and swung his fist with speed born of desperation. The slaver’s reflexes were too slow, and he cursed and stumbled backward, releasing her.

Laria dove and quickly rolled away, just as much to keep from encumbering the traveler as to escape the slaver’s grasp. She heard the men scuffling desperately behind her, and turned just in time to see the traveler plunge the slaver’s own knife deep into the wicked man’s heart.

Thank the fates! Laria prayed silently as the slaver’s eyes widened with the recognition of death. His scream turned to a bloody gurgle, and he fell twitching to the rocky ground.

For several long moments, the traveler stood over the dying slaver. Laria watched him from a distance, curious but cautious. She knew the ways of men like him, savage mercenaries who slew their enemies without a second thought. But the traveler had already shown himself to be more honorable than most.

“Who are you?” Laria asked.

The traveler turned to face her. “I am called Roderick. And you are?”

“Your slave,” she answered, lowering her gaze.

The traveler frowned and stepped forward. She flinched, not knowing what to expect. So many of her recent masters had been cruel to her that she hardly dared to hope that Roderick would be any different. But then, he reached out his hand.

“Fear not,” he said as he helped her to her feet. “I won’t hurt you.”

Relief flooded over her like a gentle spring rain. Fate had truly smiled upon her, granting her to a kind and benevolent master. All that remained was to please him well enough that he kept her as his own.

Roderick

Roderick stared in astonishment at the young woman who had offered herself up to be his slave. Perhaps it was naive of him to expect her to embrace her freedom, but he was confident that she would soon enough.

“Hold out your hands,” he commanded. Her wrists were still bound by that damnable rope. She gasped as he drew his dagger, but held still as he cut her bonds.

He took a moment to look her over. She stood a full head shorter than him, as small and slim as a waif, though the roundness of her sun-burned breasts made it clear that she was fully a woman. She wore only a crude loincloth, and her fair skin had only recently been bronzed by the hot desert sun, meaning she was probably a household slave and not one accustomed to hard labor. Her wrists and feet were blistered and red, but her back bore no mark of the lash: either she hadn’t been a slave for long, or else she was more subservient than most. Her hair was black and dusty, and her eyes were a mesmerizing green, though she was careful to keep them downcast like a good slave.

“You’re free now, girl,” he told her brusquely. “What is your name?”

She stared at her unbound wrists in disbelief, as if unaware that he had spoken to her. Realizing that she was probably delirious with thirst, Roderick gave her his waterskin and helped her to wring out the last few drops. There was plenty more water in the dead slaver’s saddlebags anyway.

“Th-thank you, master,” she stammered.

“I’m not your master,” he grunted, turning his attention to the camel. He rustled through the saddlebags until he found one of the slaver’s spare robes. “Here,” he said, tossing it to the girl. “Clothe yourself with this.”

She smiled at him gratefully and immediately began to change. He averted his eyes out of courtesy, making a quick inventory of their supplies. The dead slaver had carried a fair amount of coin, which testified to his cruelty—though of course there was ample room in his pouch for more. Wherever he had planned to take the girl, he had clearly expected her to fetch a pretty price. More importantly, the bags held at least two weeks of provisions: mostly bread and cheese, with some olives and salted lamb to round it out. Roderick tore off a bite to blunt the edge of his hunger: he had gone more than a day without food.

“Are you hungry?” he asked the girl, turning to face her now that she was fully dressed. The linen robe hung loosely on her slender frame, but it was sufficiently modest, and would shield her from the worst of the sun’s burning rays. All she needed now was a headscarf, like the one he’d worn before his fight with the slaver. He walked to where it lay and retrieved it from the ground.

“Yes, Master,” she said hesitantly. “Though, if it please you—”

He tossed her half a loaf of bread, and her eyes widened in surprise as she caught it. Clearly, the slaver had not been feeding her well.

“There’s meat and cheese aplenty. Take as much as you wish.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“I’m not your damned slave master,” he told her bluntly as she reached into the bag. She winced at the rebuke, as if expecting him to strike her.

“Y-yes,” she said, gingerly taking some cheese. “I hope I haven’t offended you.”

“Of course not. Now, what is your name?”

“My name is… Laria,” the girl said hesitantly. “Please—let me be your slave. I have nowhere to go, and I fear I won’t survive in this wilderness.”

Her request took Roderick aback.

“By all the horns of hell, girl!” he bellowed. “Did you think I would abandon you in this waste? No—we shall travel as companions, at least as far as the next oasis, or town.” The prospect of braving another enchanted oasis did not thrill him, but the camel would have to be watered soon, and the waterskins refilled.

“Yes, Master,” the girl said subserviently.

“Call me Roderick.”

“Yes, Master Roderick.”

“Not ‘Master.’ Just ‘Roderick.’”

She opened her mouth as if to speak, caught herself, then opened her mouth again. “I hope I have not displeased you, sir.”

“Stand up, girl. Why should that matter when you are free?”

Reluctantly, Laria rose to her feet, still clutching the bread and cheese. “How can I accept your gift of freedom when I owe you so much?”

“You owe me nothing. I saved you from that wicked slaver because it was right, not because I expected anything in return.”

“But I have nothing without you, Roderick,” Laria pleaded with him. “I have no family, no home—no one to care for me, nowhere to go. If you will not have me as your slave, I fear that I will perish. Please, let me serve you as best as I know how.”

Roderick sighed heavily. Though slavery was a common practice, his father had always shunned it and taught him to do so as well. The servants of House Valtan had all been free to leave the household if they managed to find employment elsewhere. Few had actually done so, for Roderick’s father was a fair and honorable man, and most of his servants had followed him into exile.

“Eat your bread,” Roderick told her, turning away.

“Does that mean—”

“Yes,” he said, groaning. “If you truly want to serve me, I will not turn you away. But know this, Laria: we travel together as companions. As equals. You are free to make your own choices as you see fit. Do you understand?”

Laria’s face broke into a smile. “Thank you Master Roderick! I promise to follow you wherever you may lead!”

They ate their bread in silence, Roderick brooding over this strange turn of events while the girl looked to him like an eager and obedient dog. He hated that—no person was meant to be treated like an animal. Especially not a woman. If owning a slave offended his keen sense of honor, owning a slave girl offended it doubly.

He finished eating and pulled the camel down by the reins. The dumb beast protested at first, but he held firm until it had knelt down.

“Come,” he said, gesturing for Laria to mount it. “Let us be on our way.”

She looked at him hesitantly, as if unsure what to do.

“Well?” he said impatiently. “Climb up and let us go!”

“But Master Roderick, where will you ride?”

“Ride?” he said angrily. “I will walk. You will ride.”

Laria shook her head. “No, Master Roderick. I cannot ride in comfort while you walk. It—it wouldn’t be right.”

He groaned and ran his fingers impatiently through his hair. “Very well, then. We’ll both ride—and if the camel dies of exhaustion, then I suppose we will both have to walk!”

With that, he tossed his head scarf over his head and mounted the camel. Against the beast’s protestations, Laria climbed on behind him, and with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, they set out.

<< Chapter 2 << The Riches of Xulthar >> Chapter 4 >>

Roderick

The hot sun beat mercilessly upon the band of adventurers as they rode up the barren wash toward the sun-baked plains beyond. Nearly a week had passed since they had left the last town on the edge of the desert wastes, and Roderick’s friends were beginning to grow restless.

“Gods above,” Andrej murmured, “what I wouldn’t give for a jug of good Kevonan wine right now!”

“Forget the wine,” said Jura. “Where are we supposed to find water in this waste? And what about grazing for our horses?”

“The next oasis is less than a day’s journey ahead of us,” said Roderick, though he knew that grazing was going to be a problem. Perhaps they should have traded their horses for camels at the last town.

“To hell with this!” said Andrej. “Rod, this quest is a fool’s errand. We’ll die of thirst in this wilderness before we find this treasure you seek.”

“Or on the way back,” Jura concurred.

Roderick gritted his teeth. He had known that his friends had been growing increasingly disillusioned with their journey, but he had hoped that their loyalty to him would have outweighed their doubts.

“Fine,” he said. “If you both want to turn back now and leave me to die alone in this desert, then go ahead. But I’m not giving up on my quest, even if it means that I walk through the gates of Xulthar alone.”

He spurred his horse forward, leaving Andrej and Jura to exchange looks of resignation before reluctantly following him.

As they rode on, the heat grew more intense, and the parched ground beneath them turned to cracked sand that shifted and cracked beneath the horses’ hooves. By midday, they had reached the oasis that Roderick had spoken of, a small pool of brackish water surrounded by withered palm trees.

They dismounted from their horses and drank deeply from the pool, feeling the cool liquid washing away their fatigue. But as they prepared to continue their journey, a strange sensation began to overcome them.

At first, it was just a feeling of slight dizziness and lethargy. But then it intensified into a full-blown sense of disorientation and confusion. Roderick stumbled and fell to his knees, feeling as if he were being pulled in multiple directions at once.

“What in the name of the gods is happening?” Jura cried, his voice suddenly distant and muffled.

Andrej’s face went slack, his eyes rolling back into his head. “I… I don’t know,” he muttered before collapsing to the ground.

Roderick tried to stand, but his limbs felt like lead weights, and he could barely move his fingers. He looked out into the oasis and saw that the palm trees were swirling around him like a whirlpool, their trunks twisting and bending in impossible ways.

Then everything went black.

When Roderick awoke, he found himself lying on the ground, with the sun beating down on his face. He squinted as he tried to focus his vision, struggling to remember what had happened.

As his memory returned, a chill ran down his spine. Had it all been a hallucination? The oasis, his companions, and the strange sensation that had overcome them?

He stood up unsteadily and looked around, searching for any sign of Andrej and Jura. But they were nowhere to be seen. Roderick called out their names, but his voice was weak and hoarse, barely audible in the scorching desert air.

Feeling a sense of panic rising within him, he started to walk in the direction they had been heading. The sand burned his bare feet, and he struggled to keep his balance as he stumbled forward.

After what felt like hours, Roderick finally spotted a figure in the distance. As he drew closer, he saw that it was Jura, lying motionless on the ground.

Roderick rushed to his side, feeling a surge of relief mixed with fear. He checked for a pulse and found it weak but steady. Jura’s eyes fluttered open, and he groaned as he tried to sit up. “What happened?” he muttered.

Roderick shook his head. “I don’t know. One minute we were at the oasis, and the next… everything went black.”

Jura rubbed his head, wincing at the pain. “Where’s Andrej?”

“I haven’t found him yet,” Roderick said, scanning the horizon. “We have to keep moving. We can’t stay here.”

Jura nodded weakly, and Roderick helped him to his feet. They stumbled forward, searching for any sign of their missing companion.

As they walked, Roderick couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching them. He glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing but endless sand and sky. But the sense of unease persisted , and he knew that they were not alone in this desert.

Roderick and Jura walked through the desert, searching for any sign of their missing companion. They had been walking for hours when they spotted a figure in the distance. As they drew closer, they saw it was Andrej.

He was standing still, staring off into the horizon with a dazed expression on his face. Roderick called out to him, but he didn’t respond.

Roderick and Jura approached him cautiously, worried that something might be wrong. His clothes were covered in dust and sand, and his skin was dry and parched from dehydration.

Roderick gently shook Andrej’s shoulder until he finally stirred to life. His eyes blinked rapidly as if he’d just woken up from a deep sleep. “What happened?” Andrej croaked out in a low voice. “Where are we?”

Roderick shook his head in confusion as he tried to explain what had happened at the oasis. “It must be some sort of witchcraft,” he said. “When we drank the water, that’s when we all blacked out. I don’t know how long we were out for, but when I woke up, you were gone.”

Jura nodded slowly, still trying to piece everything together. “I remember feeling…strange,” he said, his voice trailing off. “Like something was trying to take over my mind.”

“I don’t remember a thing,” Andrej said softly, his voice full of bewilderment and fear. “It’s like my mind went blank.”

Roderick and Jura exchanged worried glances before turning their attention back to Andrej. “Come on, let’s go,” Roderick said. “We have to find the oasis.”

The trio trudged through the sand, their feet growing heavier with each step. They had been walking for hours when they finally spotted a faint shimmer in the distance.

Their spirits lifted as they drew closer and realized that it was the oasis. Their animals were still there, grazing peacefully on the sparse grass and drinking from the muddy water. Everything was just as they had left it, as if nothing had happened at all.

“I’m so thirsty,” Andrej moaned. He knelt down as if to drink again, but Roderick quickly took him by the shoulder and stopped him.

“Wait,” Roderick said, his voice urgent. “We can’t drink from this oasis again. Remember what happened last time?”

Jura nodded in agreement as he scanned their surroundings. “Roderick’s right. We need to find another source of water.”

“But I’m so thirsty,” Andrej protested weakly.

“We all are,” Roderick said, his eyes scanning the horizon. “But we have to find water that we can trust.”

Suddenly, a strange mist started to form around them. It began to swirl and thicken, until a sinister but strikingly beautiful nymph emerged from the water. Her long dark hair cascaded down her naked body, and her eyes glowed with sinister intent.

Roderick, Jura, and Andrej instinctively backed away. She smiled wickedly at them, as if she could sense their fear.

“Welcome, travelers,” she said in a sweet voice. “I am the undine nymph who guards these waters. What brings you to my oasis?”

“We’re just passing through,” Roderick said warily, eyeing the nymph with suspicion. “We’re looking for another source of water.”

“Ah, but why leave so soon?” the nymph purred, taking a step closer to them. “I could offer you so much more than just water.”

Andrej and Jura’s eyes glazed over as they stared at the beautiful water nymph, their mouths slack-jawed and their tongues lolling like dogs. They slowly loosened their grips on their weapons, letting them drop to the ground with a clatter. The two men began walking aimlessly, mumbling in different tongues and laughing to themselves. Once again, they began to wander out into the desert sands.

Roderick’s grip on the sword tightened until it felt like a natural extension of his arm, the hilt biting into his palm. Veins bulged along his wrist and he felt his heart beating so hard he thought it might burst from his chest. The nymph’s magic pulsed in waves around him, whispering promises of power and pleasure into his ears. But Roderick refused to succumb, no matter how much it tempted him. Instead, a bead of sweat formed at his temple as he gritted his teeth and prepared for the fight of his life.

The nymph laughed, and the sound was as dark and as dangerous as storm clouds over the desert. “Oh, brave little warrior,” she crooned, “you think your measly sword can save you from my power?”

Roderick stepped forward, determination etched into every line of his face. “I won’t let you harm my friends,” he growled through gritted teeth.

“Harm you? I was just playing with you. I have no intention of harming you, unless you give me a reason to.” The undine nymph tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “But I sense something in you, Roderick. Something…different.”

Roderick tensed, his grip on his sword hilt tightening even more. “What do you mean?”

“Unlike your friends,” she said, gliding over the surface of the water toward the animals, who grazed on unperturbed, “you are a man of honor.” She pulled a strand of hair behind one ear and gave him a sultry smile.

“Release my friends,” Roderick said, his voice dangerously low.

The nymph’s smile widened playfully, and she sat on the edge of the water, her long and slender legs stretched out to one side. “Very well. I promise to release your friends if you will give me one thing in return. One very simple thing.”

Roderick held her gaze, unwilling to show any fear or weakness. “What is it?” he asked at lenght.

The nymph’s lips curved into a delighted smile. “A kiss,” she said, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “What else?”

“A kiss?” said Roderick, frowning. “What sort of kiss?”

The nymph’s eyes remained locked onto his. “A kiss of passion,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “One that would make me tingle down to my bones.”

She laughed, and the sound was like gurgling of a crystal clear spring to his ears. Even so, he sensed that it would be a terrible mistake to give in to her seductive demands. Many a traveler had been led on to his death by the illusive desert mirages, and he sensed that beneath the water nymph’s playful demeanor lurked a terrible, deadly mischief.

“And if I refuse?” he asked.

The nymph’s sultry smile turned into a scowl. “Then you can go from my waters and die of thirst with your friends in the desert!”

“Whoa,” said Roderick, lowering his sword. “I meant no offense, fair undine.”

Her smile returned, though it was strained. “Don’t push you luck,” she said sulkily. “There is no other water in this desert, but mine.”

“Why must I give you a kiss?” he asked, trying to stall. “If you can control minds, why don’t you simply take it?”

She smirked and arched her back, her breasts perking out between her arms. “Because a kiss is nothing if it is not freely given.”

He sheathed his sword, knowing that it would do no good against her powers, and reached into the money pouch at his belt. “Perhaps we can come to some other arrangment. I can give you coin–“

“The coin of Xulthar?” she all but spat. “You and I both know that it is cursed. That is why you seek the lost city, is it not?”

“It is,” said Roderick, “and I meant no offense. I can offer other coin.”

The nymph idly ran her finger across the water and sighed. “Coin is so… transactional. So impersonal. Not like a kiss.” She wet her lips and eyed him eagerly. “A kiss is always personal, with lips so soft and warm–not at all like the cold, hard metal you carry on your belt.”

“My apologies,” said Roderick, his mind racing. He suspected that if he gave in to the nymph’s request, he would never leave this oasis alive.

His hand went instinctively to the pendant under his shirt, and his breath caught in his throat as he realized that he did have something personally meaningful to offer the fey nymph. It pained him to do so, but it didn’t seem as if he had a choice.

“What about this?” he asked, pulling it out to show her. Inside was a locket that contained a lock of his mother’s hair, and this he quickly removed, knowing that any piece of a person’s body could be used to gain magical influence over them. His mother was yet alive.

The nymph rose to her feet and walked over to examine the pendant. While Roderick held onto the necklace, she took the locket in her fingers and peered at it.

“I would rather have the kiss,” she said sulkily. “But a gift freely given is a gift freely offered. Very well.”

Roderick drew a sharp breath, but let her take it from him. She swayed her hips seductively as she turned and descended back into the pool.

“Wait,” he said, suddenly remembering Andrej and Jura. “What about my friends?”

“Go and find them yourself. And don’t you dare come back here with them. I won’t be so forgiving next time.”

With that, she disappeared back into the water.

Roderick emerged from the oasis, feeling both relieved and unsettled. He had managed to escape the nymph’s clutches without sacrificing anything too precious, but he was also alone in the midst of a vast and unforgiving desert.

He glanced around, searching for any sign of Andrej and Jura, but there was nothing to be seen except for sand dunes stretching out in every direction. Roderick cursed under his breath, feeling a growing sense of panic in his chest. He knew that the desert was a cruel and unforgiving place, where even the most experienced travelers could easily become lost and perish.

huddled under the shade of a rocky outcropping. They looked up as he approached, squinting against the harsh sunlight.

“Roderick!” Andrej exclaimed, relief evident in his voice. “We thought you were gone for good.”

“I almost was,” Roderick replied, his voice rough. He collapsed onto the ground beside them, feeling the heat of the sand seeping into his bones.

“What happened?” Jura asked, concern etched on her face.

Roderick told them about the oasis and the nymph, leaving out the part about his mother’s locket. Fortunately, his friends didn’t seem interested. In fact, they seemed angry with him.

“You were willing to abandon us for a woman?” Andrej spat, his eyes flashing with rage.

“I didn’t abandon you,” Roderick protested. “I was trying to find help. And she wasn’t just any woman, she was a nymph. They have powers beyond our understanding.”

“A nymph?” Jura scoffed. “Don’t tell me you fell for her tricks, Roderick. They’re known to be deceitful creatures, using their beauty to lure men to their deaths.”

Roderick bristled at her words. “I didn’t fall for anything. She tried to trick me, but I found another way out of there.”

“And left us to die,” Andrej interjected, his voice dry and hoarse. “Where are we going to get water now?”

Roderick clenched his fists, seething with frustration. He had hoped his friends would understand, but clearly, they were too blinded by their anger to see reason.

“We should turn back,” said Jura. “It was a mistake to come out this far.”

Roderick frowned. “Is this it, then? Are you going to abandon me?”

“Only if you don’t come with us,” said Andrej. He climbed wearily up onto his horse, and Jura did the same.

Roderick drew a sharp breath of the hot, dusty air. “Very well,” he said. “If that is how it is to be, then I will continue this quest alone.”

“Your horse will die out there,” Andrej pointed out. “There’s no grass to graze–“

“Then take him. I’ll continue on foot.”

“But Roderick,” said Jura, suddenly concerned. “What about you? Where will you get water?”

Roderick grunted and took his waterskin from off of his saddle. To his surprise, it was nearly bursting with water.

“Hey!” said Andrej, reaching for his own waterskin. “Our skins–they’ve been filled!”

“We’re saved!” said Jura.

In their joy, the two friends poured water over their heads and shirts in reckless abandon. Roderick’s eyes widened, and he hurried forward to stop them.

“What are you doing? That water is precious out here in these wastes!”

“Precious for you, maybe,” Andrej snapped at him. “We’re going back. Keep your own waterskin.”

“Are you sure you’re not coming with us?” Jura asked.

“Nay,” said Roderick, shaking his head. “My destiny lies in the desert.”

“Then farewell, friend,” Jura said sadly. Andrej merely grunted and turned his steed back the way they had come.

Roderick watched them go, their silhouettes becoming smaller and smaller in the distance until they were mere specks on the horizon. He stood there for a long time, staring after them, before finally turning and trudging deeper into the desert wastes.

Roderick

The hot sun beat mercilessly upon the three adventurers as they rode through the barren wash toward the sun-baked desert beyond. Nearly a week had passed since leaving the last town on the edge of the desert wastes, and Roderick’s friends were beginning to grow restless.

“Gods above,” Andrej murmured, “what I wouldn’t give for a jug of Kevonan wine right now!”

“Forget the wine,” said Jura. “Where are we supposed to find water in this waste? And what about grazing for our horses?”

“The next oasis is less than a day’s journey ahead of us,” said Roderick, though he knew that grazing was going to be a problem. Perhaps they should have traded their horses for camels.

“To hell with this!” said Andrej. “Rod, this quest is a fool’s errand. We’ll die of thirst before we find the lost city of Xulthar.”

“Or on the way back,” Jura concurred.

Roderick clenched his teeth. He knew that his friends had grown disillusioned, but he had hoped that their loyalty would outweigh their doubts. Regardless, this state of affairs could not be allowed to continue.

“So be it,” he told them firmly. “If you both want to turn back now, then go ahead. But I will not turn back, even if it means that I must walk through the gates of Xulthar alone.”

He spurred his horse forward, leaving Andrej and Jura to exchange looks of resignation before hurrying after him.

“Rod—wait!” Jura called out. “We’re coming!”

Andrej swore. “Will you slow down and wait for us? Gods above!”

Roderick pulled up his horse short and turned around to face his two friends, his eyes narrowed.

“The time of decision is now,” he said grimly. “Will you come with me to Xulthar, or will you turn around?”

“Peace, Rod, peace,” said Andrej, panting from thirst as he wiped his brow. “I meant no offense.”

“And none was taken,” Roderick said quickly. “Come, let us go. The horses grow hungry, and we are all in need of water and rest.”

As they rode on, the desert heat grew increasingly intense, and the parched ground of the unwatered plain turned to sand that shifted beneath the horse’s hooves. By midday, however, they reached the oasis that Roderick had spoken of: a small pool of brackish water surrounded by withered palm trees.

They dismounted and drank deeply from the pool, feeling the water wash away their fatigue. But as they prepared to settle in the shade until the cool of dusk, a strange sensation began to overcome them.

At first, it was little more than a feeling of lethargy—nothing unexpected, given the rigors of the day’s ride. But it quickly intensified into something much more. Wave after wave of vertigo and dizziness assailed them, making them stagger and swoon. Roderick stumbled and fell to his knees.

“What in the name of the gods is happening?” Jura cried, as if from a great distance.

Andrej’s face went slack, his eyes rolling back and his tongue lolling. “I… I don’t know,” he muttered before collapsing.

Roderick tried to stand but his limbs felt like lead weights. As he gazed out upon the oasis, the palm trees seemed to swirl around him like a whirlpool, their trunks twisting in impossible ways.

Then everything went black.

Roderick

When Roderick awoke, he found himself lying on his back, the hot midday sun beating on his face. The oasis was gone, as were his friends, the horses, and their supplies. All that he had now were his sword and the things on his immediate person.

He groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Had it all been a hallucination? The oasis, his companions, and the strange spell that had come over them? But no—he remembered it all now. And as his memory returned, a shudder ran down his spine.

He stood on unsteady legs and scanned the desert, searching for any sign of Andrej and Jura. He called out their names, but his voice was weak and hoarse, and scorching wastes seemed to deaden every sound.

Panic began to rise like a serpent within his gut, but Roderick ignored it and set out in what he hoped was the direction of the oasis. Using the mountains on the horizon as landmarks, he trudged across the sandy, sun-baked desert.

After what felt like hours, Roderick spotted a figure in the distance. He drew closer and saw that it was Jura, lying motionless on the ground.

“Jura!” he called, rushing to his friend’s side. Relief mixed with fear as he searched for any sign of life. Fortunately, Jura was only unconscious. As Roderick checked him over for injury, his eyes fluttered open. Roderick helped him to sit up.

“What happened?” Jura groaned.

“I don’t know,” said Roderick, shaking his head. “One moment we were at the oasis, and the next, we were here.”

Jura rubbed his head. “Where’s Andrej?”

“I haven’t found him yet,” said Roderick, scanning the horizon. “We have to keep moving. We won’t last long in this blasted heat.”

Jura nodded weakly, and Roderick helped him to his feet. They stumbled forward, searching for any sign of their missing companion.

As they walked, Roderick couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that something in these wastes was watching them. He glanced over his shoulder, but there was nothing behind them except the earth and endless sky. Still, the sensation persisted, and he knew that they were not alone.

The hot afternoon sun had already begun its descent when they finally found Andrej. He was standing still, staring off as if dazed.

“Andrej!” Roderick called out to him. He didn’t respond.

Roderick and Jura approached him with caution. Men possessed by sorcery had been known to wander in a dazed and trancelike state, lashing out at friends until they finally came again to themselves. And indeed, Andrej looked like one possessed. His clothes were covered in dust and sand, and his skin was dry and parched from dehydration.

At length, Roderick stepped forward and gently placed his hand on Andrej’s shoulder. He startled, but did not lash out.

“What happened?” Andrej croaked, his eyes blinking rapidly as if he’d just awoken from a deep sleep. “Where are we?”

Roderick shook his head. “We must have fallen under some sort of witchcraft or dark sorcery,” he told his confused friend. “It began when we partook of the water at the oasis. We all blacked out shortly afterward. I do not know how long each of us wandered, but when I awoke, both of you were gone.”

Jura nodded slowly, stroking his beard as if in thought. “I remember a strange feeling,” he told them, “as if something was trying to take over my mind.”

“I don’t remember a thing,” Andrej said softly, his once-merry voice full of bewilderment and fear. “It’s as if my mind and memory both went blank.”

Roderick and Jura exchanged worried glances. “Come,” said Roderick. “Let us go.”

“Where?” asked Jura. “To the oasis?”

“Where else?”

“No,” said Andrej, his eyes wide with terror. “If we go back, that same power will possess us. Who knows what will happen to us then?”

Roderick drew a deep breath of the hot, dusty air and gazed off at the barren horizon. “We have no choice. We need our horses and supplies if we are to cross this barren wasteland, and for good or for ill, we left them at the oasis. It is the only place of water for miles—surely they must have wandered back there, or else remained while we were under the throes of that strange spell.”

“We should have abandoned our quest and turned back days ago,” Andrej moaned. “We should not have come out here.”

“It’s too late for thoughts like that,” Roderick said grimly. “Now come, let us go before we all perish of thirst.”

The trio trudged through the sand, their feet growing heavier with each step. The sun was halfway from its zenith when they finally spotted a faint shimmer in the distance. At first, Roderick feared it was only a mirage, but as they drew closer, its shimmering form solidified into something real, not just a thing imagined by their dazed and frenzied minds.

Sure enough, it was the oasis. Their horses were still there, grazing peacefully on the sparse grass and drinking from the muddy water. Whatever dark magic had possessed the three friends, it had left their animals unmolested. Indeed, the whole scene appeared just as they had left it, as if nothing fey had happened at all.

“I’m so thirsty,” Andrej moaned. He knelt down to drink, but Roderick gripped his shoulder and stopped him.

“Wait,” he commanded, his voice urgent. “We cannot drink from this water yet. Remember what befell us the last time?”

“Yes,” said Jura, eying their surroundings with dread. “Who knows what will become of us if we drink from these waters again?”

“But I’m so thirsty,” Andrej protested weakly.

“We all are,” said Roderick, sensing again that something was watching them. “Let us test the waters first. One of us will drink, and the others will wait to see…”

His voice trailed off as a strange mist began to billow from the surface of the tepid pool. It began to swirl and thicken, until a strikingly beautiful nymph emerged from the water. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her slender, naked form, and her eyes glowed with sinister intent.

Roderick, Andrej, and Jura instinctively drew their weapons. She smiled, sensing their fear.

“Welcome, travelers,” she cooed in a sultry-sweet voice. “I am the undine nymph who guards these waters. What brings you to my oasis?”

“We mean no trespass,” Roderick said in an attempt to pacify her. “We ask only to fill our waterskins, and then we will be on our way.”

“Ah, but why leave so soon?” the nymph purred. “I could offer you so much more than just water.”

Andrej and Jura’s eyes suddenly began to glaze over, their jaws slackening and their tongues lolling like dogs. Their hold on their swords loosened, and with a pair of loud clangs, they dropped their weapons onto the stony ground. Roderick watched in horror as they began to walk aimlessly, mumbling in strange tongues. Once again, they wandered out into the desert sands.

Roderick tightened his grip on his sword as he turned again to the nymph. Her magic pulsed in waves around him, whispering promises of power and pleasure. But he refused to succumb. His heart beat with wild abandon, and his forehead beaded with sweat as he mentally prepared for the fight of his life.

The nymph laughed, and the sound was as dark and dangerous as a thunderstorm racing over the thirsty desert. “Oh, brave little warrior,” she crooned, “you think your measly sword can save you from my power?”

“I will not stand idly by while you harm my friends.”

“Harm them? I was just playing with them. I have no intention of harming them, unless you give me a reason to.” The undine nymph tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “But with you, I sense something different.”

Roderick frowned. “What do you mean?”

The nymph glided nonchalantly over the surface of the water, moving toward the animals who grazed on unperturbed. “Unlike your wretched friends, you are a man of integrity and honor.” She pulled a strand of hair behind one ear and gave him a sensuous smile.

“They may not be the best of men, but they are still my friends,” said Roderick. “Please, fair nymph—release them from your spell.”

The nymph’s smile widened playfully, and she sat nearby him on the edge of the pool, her long and slender legs stretched out to one side. “Very well. I will release your friends if you give me one very simple thing in return.”

Roderick slowly lowered his sword. He doubted it would be of much use against the magical water nymph anyway. “What do you require?” he asked at length.

“A kiss,” she said, mischief sparkling in her eyes.

“A kiss? What sort of a kiss?”

“A kiss of passion,” she answered, looking deep into his eyes. “One that would make me tingle down to my bones.”

She laughed, and the sound was like the gurgling of a crystal clear spring in the mountains. Even so, he sensed that it would be a terrible mistake to give in to her seductive demands. Many a traveler had been led on to his death by the nymph’s illusive mirages, and he sensed that beneath her playful demeanor lurked a terrible, deadly mischief.

“And if I refuse?” he asked.

The nymph’s smile turned into a scowl. “Then you can die of thirst with your friends in the desert!”

“My apologies,” Roderick said quickly. “I mean no offense, fair undine.”

Her smile returned, though strained. “Don’t push your luck,” she said sulkily. “There is no other water in this desert, but mine.”

“Why must you ask for a kiss?” he asked, trying to stall. “If you can cast a spell over my mind, can you not simply take it?”

She smirked and rose gracefully to her feet, flaunting her slender body in a most seductive manner. Remembering the wench at the tavern, Roderick knew that Andrej and Jura would not have hesitated to give in to her demands. But though a part of him yearned to surrender to her deadly embrace, for his friends’ sake he resisted the urge to succumb to the sensual temptation she presented.

“Because a kiss is nothing if it is not freely given,” she told him, her eyes never leaving him.

Roderick sheathed his sword and reached for the pouch of money at his belt. “Perhaps we can come to some other arrangement. I can offer you coin—”

“The coin of Xulthar? You and I both know that it is cursed.”

“I have other coin,” he said lamely. But his pouch had lightened considerably since the start of their travels, to the point where he began to wonder if the pouch itself was cursed. With trembling fingers, he counted three silver pieces and—

The nymph turned away and sighed. “Coin is so… transactional. So impersonal. Not like a kiss.” She wet her lips and eyed him eagerly. “A kiss is always personal, not at all like the cold metal flecks you carry on your belt.”

Roderick’s hand instinctively went to the pendant under his shirt. Suddenly, he realized that he had something much more personal to offer. His breath caught in his throat at the thought, but he did not seem to have any other choice.

“What about this?” he asked, pulling it out to show her. The pendant was a silver locket that contained a lock of his mother’s hair. This he quickly removed, knowing that any piece of a person’s body could be used to gain sorcerous influence over them.

The nymph stepped forward to examine it. “I would rather have the kiss,” she said sulkily, “but a gift freely given is a gift freely offered. Very well.”

She took the silver locket from his hands and tossed her hair over her shoulder. With her hips swaying sensuously, she descended into the pool.

“Wait,” said Roderick, suddenly remembering Andrej and Jura. “What about my friends?”

“Go and find them yourself. And don’t you dare come back to this oasis with them. I won’t be so generous with you next time.”

With that, she disappeared into the muddy shallows.

Roderick

Roderick emerged from the oasis feeling both relieved and unsettled. The horses were fed and watered, and he had escaped with his faculties intact, but now he was alone in the midst of a vast and unforgiving desert. Somewhere out there were his friends, still suffering from the deadly undine’s spell. He knew that he had to find them soon, for night came swiftly in the deep desert, and the sun already hung low in the cloudless sky.

He searched diligently for any sign of Andrej and Jura, but the desert wastes were empty. Panic rose within his chest, and he spurred the horses onward, pushing them from a trot to a gallop. The wild and untamed lands of the deep desert were cruel and unforgiving, where even the most experienced traveler could easily perish.

Just when he was ready to give up hope, he found them huddled under the shade of a rocky outcropping. He called out eagerly, but they barely looked up at him as he approached.

“You’re alive,” Andrej observed dryly as Roderick dismounted. “We thought the undine nymph had taken you.”

“Aye,” said Roderick. “She nearly did. Are you all right?”

“What happened?” Jura asked, ignoring his question.

“Never mind that,” Andrej snapped, rising to his feet on unsteady legs. “Did you bring any water?”

Roderick’s heart fell. “Nay,” he answered dismally. “When the fey undine released me, I departed as swiftly as I could. I dared not fill the waterskins, for fear that she would…”

But Andrej was already at the horses, fumbling through their supplies. He untied one of the waterskins and pressed it to his lips.

“Water!” he said, drinking eagerly. “We’re saved!”

To Roderick’s great astonishment, the waterskins were all full, nearly bursting with clear, clean water, as pure as if it had been drawn from a mountain spring.

“When did this happen?” he wondered aloud. In his eagerness to find his friends, he had not even thought to stop and drink.

“Who cares?” Jura asked, laughing as he drank his fill.

The undine nymph, Roderick realized. She must have filled them with her magic, granting him a parting gift.

For a time, he feared that her spell was over these waters just the same as over the oasis pool. But Andrej’s and Jura’s eyes did not glaze over, and Roderick’s thirst soon overrode his caution. Nothing had ever tasted so pure or so sweet.

“And now,” said Andrej, wiping his mouth, “tell us your sordid tale.”

Roderick told them about the nymph and her sensuous request: how she had bargained with him for a deadly kiss, refusing Roderick’s coin as she flaunted herself before him. But before he could tell them how he escaped, they began to grow angry.

“You nearly abandoned us for a woman?” Andrej spat, his eyes flashing with rage.

“I didn’t abandon you,” Roderick protested. “Did I not just save you from dying of thirst?”

“After cavorting with that hussie nymph through the hottest part of the day. Don’t tell us you fell for her tricks, Rod. They’re known to be deceitful creatures, using their beauty to lure men to their deaths.”

Roderick bristled at Andrej’s words. “If I had, I would not be alive now—and neither would you.”

“We mean no offense, Rod,” Jura said quickly. “But surely you must see now that it was a mistake to come this far. After all, if we cannot trust the oases, how can we hope to survive in the desert, much less find the ruins of Xulthar?”

“Is this it, then? Are you going to abandon me?”

“Only if you don’t come with us,” said Andrej. He climbed wearily up onto his horse, and Jura did the same.

Roderick drew a sharp breath of the hot, dusty air. “So be it,” he said grimly. “If that is how it is to be, then I will continue this quest alone.”

“Your horse will die out there,” Jura pointed out. “Outside of the oases, there’s no grazing for—”

“Then take him. I’ll continue on foot.”

Jura frowned. “But Rod, what about you? On foot, you won’t last more than a couple of days.”

Roderick ignored him as he took the waterskin and several days’ worth of supplies. His anger was so fresh that he didn’t trust himself to speak civilly with his friends—though he had to admit, they were right about the horse. It would be a shame to let the beast perish with him in the wilderness.

“Don’t be a fool, Rod,” Andrej said sharply. “Come back with us.”

“Nay,” grunted Roderick. “My destiny lies in the desert.”

“Or your death, more likely.”

“Then so be it,” he said angrily, throwing the bags over his shoulder. He looked Jura and Andrej each in the eye. “Go back to your drink, and your women. I have no more appetite for either.”

“But what about your friends?” Jura asked.

“Friends,” said Roderick, spitting in disgust. “If you were my friends, you would understand why I must seek the ruins of Xulthar—why I cannot bear to live another day without confronting the truth behind my family’s fall. But if honor truly matters nothing to you, farewell!”

Andrej regarded him coolly for several moments before turning away. “Come, Jura. Let us leave this fool to his fate.”

“But Andrej—”

Without waiting, Andrej spurred his horse to a trot. He did not look back.

“I am sorry, Rod,” Jura said sadly. “I wish it hadn’t ended this way.”

“Go,” Roderick whispered, turning away.

Jura nodded and followed after Andrej. Roderick watched them until they were barely larger than specks on the horizon. Then they crested a hill, and were gone.

The words of the old crone suddenly came to him: If you do not allow yourself to be swayed or tempted away, then fate will provide all that you need. Those words made him laugh with bitter mirth. If the old woman’s prophecy were true, then why had he just lost his horse? On foot in this barren wilderness, he was already as good as dead. And yet, death was preferable to admitting defeat and returning in dishonor. For good or for ill, his fate now lay in the forbidding desert.

<< Chapter 1 << The Riches of Xulthar >> Chapter 3 >>

Roderick

“I know why you seek the lost city of Xulthar,” the old crone said as she peered over the top of her crystal ball. “But the riches hidden therein will bring you nothing but evil and sorrow.”

Roderick the Young of House Valtan stood up straight with his shoulders back, his sharp eyes scanning the old crone from head to toe. His broad hand unconsciously brushed the hilt of his sword; it was a weapon that had seen more than its fair share of use. Unlike most nobles, his boots were worn and caked with dust, his face lined with the sun and wind of the open road—a testament to the hard times that had fallen on his house. But Roderick was not one to let the whims of fate define him.

“What do you mean, old woman? Speak your prophecy.”

The haggard old fortune teller wore faded and tattered robes, with a threadbare shawl that seemed as old and gray as she was. Clearly, no false and flattering sibyl was she. Roderick had sought her out for that very reason, foregoing all of the more popular soothsayers with their smooth words and their gilded tongues. With all that he had lost, he had no appetite for their lies.

The crone’s eyes pierced through Roderick’s soul like needles, her voice a deathly hiss that sent shivers coursing through his veins.

“Behold! I see a city of endless riches and unimaginable treasures, watched over by an infernal force of dark magic. You must face this terror, Roderick of House Valtan, and uncover the reason for your family’s demise. But know this – the path ahead is littered with danger, for even if you succeed in defeating the evil power, it will not restore your house to its former glory or bring you the honor you seek.

Her words stabbed him like a dagger to the heart. Honor was indeed the object of his quest, and the riches of Xulthar were merely a means to that end. The fact that the sibyl had divined as much spoke to her clairvoyance, since by all outward appearances, he was simply another young adventurer seeking his fortune. But even if the riches of Xulthar were cursed, he could not back down now; he had come too far and sacrificed too much.

“But will I defeat that dark power, and restore my family’s honor?” Roderick asked.

The sibyl clucked her tongue. “The future is not set in stone, young lord. You, not I, have the power to shape your own destiny.”

Roderick scowled impatiently. “I did not come into your tent to hear platitudes, old woman. Look into your crystal ball and tell me what will be if I defeat this dark sorceror and seize the riches of Xulthar for my own.”

The crone’s eyes glinted in the dim light of her tent as she glared into the depths of her crystal ball. “I see naught but a life of suffering and misery for you, my lord. Xulthar’s riches are cursed beyond your wildest dreams. If you dare step foot on this path, it will come at an immense cost, even if you emerge from it victorious.”

“But if I do not take this journey, then my family will never reclaim its lost honor and our house will be erased from existence forever.”

“As you have spoken, young lord.”

Roderick grunted. “Better to meet a cursed but honorable end than to take the coward’s path. If this is to be my destiny, I will not turn from it.”

The old crone nodded solemnly, her aged and wrinkled face softening with sympathy. “Beware, young lord! The evil that lurks within the ruins of Xulthar is so great that even I cannot foresee how your fate is intertwined with it. Your bravery is admirable, but the path that you choose will have consequences beyond your own life. Indeed, it may affect the fate of our entire world.”

“Then I will choose this path,” Roderick said grimly, “even if it brings me naught but sorrow.”

He adjusted his sword belt and turned to leave. As soon as his back was turned, the ball began to glow anew.

“There is something else,” the old crone prophesied, her gaze fixated on the vision within the crystal ball. “I see a young woman, beautiful and fair…”

But Roderick had already stepped out of her tent, his mind consumed with brooding thoughts.

Roderick

The tavern was as dark and smokey as the hot afternoon sky was bright and clear. Roderick narrowed his eyes as he adjusted his sword belt and peered at the long wooden tables, which were mostly unoccupied at this hour. A short raven-haired wench was washing down the table nearest to him, the hem of her billowing dress stained almost black with ash and spilled food and drink. She stood up straight as Roderick entered.

“Milord,” she said with a respectful curtsy.

He ignored her for the moment as his eyes scanned the room. Three scrawny chickens were roasting on a spit over the coals in the fireplace, while behind the bar, a fat, balding barkeep mindlessly cleaned pewter mugs. A warm breeze blew through the unshuttered windows, only marginally cooling the air.

For a moment, Roderick thought he had made a mistake. Then his ears caught the sound of laughter, and in the far corner, he found what he had sought.

“My friends,” he muttered, grunting as he pointed to the far table. The tavern wench nodded and smiled as he passed her without another word.

“Rod!” said Andrej, slapping him heartily on the back as Roderick took the seat next to him on the bench. “It’s good to see you, friend. Care for a drink?”

Roderick raised an eyebrow. “At this early hour?”

“Why not?” Jura said merrily across the table. “Andrej is paying!”

“There you are mistaken,” Andrej retorted with a mischevious smile. “Our beloved Lord Valtan is subsidizing our libations on this auspicious occasion, since he it was who called us to this council. Forsooth?”

Roderick sighed heavily. “Just as long as you don’t get drunk.”

“It may be too late for that, Lord,” Jura said with a trinkle in his eye. He held out his mug, and the wench hurried over with a pitcher of ale.

“Enough of that!” Roderick snapped. “I didn’t call you here to celebrate the occasion. I called you here to make plans.”

The tavern wench stopped pouring, and at a sharp glance from Roderick she scurried back behind the bar. Andrej clucked his tongue.

“You always have such a serious demeanor, Rod,” Andrej said, taking a swig of ale. “Can’t we just enjoy each other’s company for once?”

Roderick scowled. “This is not a social visit, Andrej. We are here to discuss our… pending expedition.”

“You mean our quest for the lost city of Xulthar?”

“Not so loud!” Roderick snapped, glancing around the room. But Andrej and Jura just laughed.

Roderick’s frown deepened. “This is no laughing matter. Xulthar is a place of great danger. We must approach it with caution and a clear head.”

“Of course, of course,” Jura said with a wave of his hand. “But we’ve been planning this for months. We know what we’re doing.”

“Maybe,” Roderick said, “but we must stay focused. We cannot let the promise of riches cloud our better judgement.”

“But that’s the whole point, isn’t it?” Andrej said, grinning. “We’re doing this for the gold.”

Roderick’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not just about the gold for me. It’s about my father, and restoring my family’s honor.”

“Well, that’s all well and good,” Jura said with a shrug, “but I’m in it for the gold.”

Roderick shook his head. “You’re missing the point. This is not just a treasure hunt. Xulthar is not just some abandoned city. It is a place of great power and danger. We must be careful.”

“Relax, Rod,” Andrej said, clapping him on the back. “We’ll be careful. But we’ll also have a good time.”

Roderick sighed. His companions were not taking the expedition seriously enough. They didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. But he had to make them understand.

“Listen to me,” Roderick said, leaning in close. “In Xulthar, we will face not only physical challenges but also those of the mind and soul. The treasure we seek is cursed, and it will corrupt anyone who seeks to possess it. We must be vigilant and resist its lure.”

Andrej and Jura looked at each other and then burst out laughing. The sound of their merriment was like a dagger to Roderick’s heart.

“You think this is funny? Xulthar is no laughing matter. It is said that the city fell to an evil and sorcerous power, which slaughtered all of its inhabitants in a single day. That power still holds sway over the treasure contained within the ruins, and it destroys those who fall to it. Their bodies are possessed by demons, their minds reduced to nothing more than an addling soup.”

The laughter died down as they listened to him speak, but Roderick could sense that they still didn’t fully believe him.

“Look, Rod,” Andrej said, placing a hand on Roderick’s shoulder, “we know you’re worried, but we’re not a bunch of greenhorns. We’ve been on plenty of dangerous expeditions before. We can handle ourselves.”

“We’ll be careful,” Jura added. “And besides, even if there is a curse, we’ll just have to make sure we have the right magical protections.”

Roderick sighed again, feeling the weight of the responsibility on his shoulders. He had to make sure that his companions understood the danger they were about to face.

“We’ll need to be prepared,” Roderick said, pacing back and forth. “Xulthar is hidden in the deep desert, and no one has ever returned from there. The journey will be long and arduous, and we’ll have to be prepared for anything.”

He looked at Andrej and Jura expectantly. They nodded in agreement.

“We’ll need supplies,” Andrej said, taking charge. “Food, water, weapons…all sorts of things.”

Jura chimed in as well. “And spells! We can’t forget about magical protection.”

Roderick nodded in agreement. This was all true, but there was something else they were forgetting about – something far more important than any physical preparation.

“But most importantly,” he said gravely, “we must protect ourselves from the temptations of the cursed treasure we seek.”

The two adventurers stared at him in surprise. “What do you mean?” Andrej asked with a furrowed brow.

“The curse of Xulthar is not just a physical danger,” Roderick explained. “It is a corrupting force that preys on our darkest desires and weaknesses. We must be vigilant against its influence, or else we risk falling to its power.”

Jura crossed his arms, looking skeptical. “And how do we protect ourselves from that? Do we just avoid the treasure altogether?”

Roderick shook his head. “No, we cannot simply ignore the treasure. It is our goal, after all. But we must be strong of will and clear of purpose. We cannot let our greed or ambition overpower us. We must remember why we are on this journey and what we hope to achieve with the treasure.”

There was a moment of silence as Andrej and Jura considered what Roderick had said. Then Andrej spoke up, a note of determination in his voice.

“I understand what you’re saying, Rod. And I promise you, I won’t let the curse get to me. I’m here to help you restore your family’s honor and get rich in the process.”

Jura nodded in agreement. “Me too. I’m not going to let some curse steer me off course.”

“Very well,” Roderick said, finally relenting. “But we must be cautious. We don’t know what we’ll face in that cursed city. We’ll need to rely on each other and be prepared for anything.”

Andrej and Jura nodded in agreement, and they all raised their mugs in a toast.

“To Xulthar,” Andrej said with a grin.

“To the treasure we’ll claim,” Jura added, clinking his mug against Andrej’s.

“And to glory and honor we’ll win,” Roderick said, feeling a sense of dread wash over him. Though his friends seemed confident in their plans, Roderick couldn’t help but worry they weren’t taking this dangerous journey seriously enough. What if something happened to them out there? Would they abandon him, or stand by him in the face of adversity? He only hoped he could trust his companions when it came time to confront the power of Xulthar’s curse.