Chapter 130: 7.15 – The Gates of Tarin-Tiran

Robin moved amongst the hobgoblins camp, wearing a borrowed form shrouded in the illusory disguise of a nondescript hobgoblin. He’d dumped all of his experience into maximising his Sleight of Hand skill, taken all the tips Jhess could give, plumbed the depths of his [Bardic Lore] for the alternate forms he could use for the largest gains in Dexterity and general sneaky skill enhancement using [Assume Quality], and he was still bricking it at this plan. Sure, Ruprecht made the trapped wands, but someone had to get them into the hands—holsters?—of the hobgoblin mages.

That someone, unfortunately, was Robin.

The storage space in his ring was super helpful, at least. Made it much easier to be inconspicuous.

He had the key Ruprecht had dummied up as well, but so far as he could see there was no easy way to use it. Even though the mages were an abused under-caste, and he’d identified the woman most likely to be their leader, he had yet to come up with a plan that seemed likely to succeed in fomenting a rebellion amongst them.

Pity. That would have been a much more elegant solution.

And it would have placed him in somewhat less danger.

Well, maybe.

At least Gis didn’t seem to be anywhere near this group.

The hobgoblins were moving in groups. Robin had expected something like the ordered march of an army, all parade-like. Instead, the hjuncta had separated into phalanx-like mega-patrol groups. It made them more mobile, and they were sweeping the buildings and rubble-piles as they went, looking carefully for any signs of foes.

It was a tricky thing to manage. Yes, the groups were large enough, and occupied with a task, so it made it technically easier to slip amongst them with the aim of planting the wands, but they were also much more close knit, and currently primed to be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary.

If he hadn’t had his [Mask of Disguise] there was no way he would have been able to pull this off. He had to watch the flow of hobgoblins like a hawk, assuming familiar faces just long enough to get near to his target mage, make the switch with the wands, and slipping away again.   

Even then he wasn’t able to switch all of them in any given group. It was too difficult. He hit the easiest marks and moved on. There was only so much a lone bard could do!

Even with his faithful familiar in the skies above providing an extra set of eyes and calling out warnings as needed.

‘Here! We’ve found something!’

Robin faded back as the call went up, shrouding himself in the illusion of shadow and rock so the group could move away from him, rather than having to risk being spotted leaving. It sounded like someone had picked up on the trail Jhess had left to one of the five entrances to the killing zone Ruprecht had prepared. Good. Three of the other groups he’d been with had already found their own leads. The leadership should have sussed out that both the mysterious beast they’d seen signs of and a group of hostile sentients were camped somewhere in the ruins nearby by now.

Speaking of, now for the most dangerous part of his job. He needed to infiltrate the group Gis was travelling with.

The sun was setting by the time he slipped into the camp in question. Fortunately there was enough chaos to offset any routine that might have tripped him up. He just needed to look busy. Plus there were plenty of shadows to use as cover for switching faces while he was walking through.

No reason not to give yourself every advantage when facing your greatest threat, right?

It was harder to make wand swaps here, however. The mages were grouped together and not distracted by investigating nearby ruins or the like. Robin gritted his teeth. He might have to stay here longer and try to swap out the lot after most of the mages had gone to sleep.

Not ideal.

There was a surge of emotion from Rerebos. Robin slipped into a nearby patch of shadow and conjured an illusion to cover his presence. He’d sent his familiar in ahead to spy on and track Gis’s location and activities. That he was being contacted now suggested something interesting was afoot.

Fortunately, he was just inside their telepathic range, the mages being encamped near to the command structure, where the general could keep an eye on them.

Ol’ Snake Eye has gotten some sort of dream message from his patron. Sounds like he knows there is something worth stealing or shattering at the centre of the area they’ve been sniffing around. I think they’ll try something tomorrow.

Let me share your senses, Robin requested, slipping into the mid of his familiar.

Looking through Rerebos’s eyes was different than using his own. The little shadow-dragon saw things in a different spectrum, possibly of light, possibly of magic. Robin could see all manner of shades of black and white and grey, and with his experience he knew how to identify the blue-greys from the red-greys and green-greys, but it was all a bit strange.

It was very detailed, however, and Rerebos has excellent hearing and smell/taste as well.

Not that he was happy about knowing what Gis tasted like.

Ugh. Whomever said all magic comes with a price was not kidding, but this was far from anything Robin had every expected to pay. It was not something you could unsense.

Gis was in tense conversation with the General. They were clearly committed to invading Ruprecht’s demesne, and soon. Scouts had been dispatched to explore each of the five entrances that had been found.

That was fine. They’d expected that. Ruprecht knew how to keep his traps hidden, and, moreover, how to plant obvious traps and hidden passages so that none of the scouts would be too suspicious.

Let them disarm them. There would be enough real traps left after the decoys were dealt with to more than handle the job. Well, that was the hope at least. Some of these scouts were quite accomplished.

Higher level than Robin, in the parlance of his old tabletop days.

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‘We could always take steps of our own to, ah, aid the revered priest in this matter.’ The speaker was one of the mages, probably one of the most senior.

As far as Robin could tell, the mages had no single leader, unlike the other casts amongst the hobgoblin hjuncta. He wasn’t sure why, but it was one of the bits of information he’d gathered.

The mage was clearly leaning on the General to try and get permission to employ divination magics. Gis looked less than thrilled, but he’d have that reaction to anything that challenged his authority.

The General didn’t look any happier about it than Gis, but from the way he drummed his fingers along his scabbard Robin suspected he was seriously considering it.

‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘Fetch two of your most skilled mages. Skilled, mind you! I want skill, not power. The last thing we need if for something to go wrong with this.’

The mage nodded, shot a smug glance at Gis, and hurried out of the tent.

Interesting. So skill did matter to a degree in terms of whether or not the magic went wild? Or did they just hope it did?

While the mage was gone the General moved to a locked chest with smooth, swift motions, unlocking it with a key he kept on a chain around his neck. From the chest he drew three white wands, similar to the standard ones Robin carried replicas of, but of a slightly different make.

Presumably they channeled the magical energy into divination, rather than offensive energies like fire or lightning.

‘Your mages are likely to have no more luck than I or anyone else,’ Gis said waspishly. ‘This accursed place is so saturated with lies and illusion that very little truth can make its way through, even the truth of power.’

No wonder Savra seemed so unsettled all the time! Some kind of residual epic enchantment? Covering the whole city? Illusion, so many uses!

The mages returned before Robin had any more time to ponder that. The original mage was there, with two others, both younger than Robin expected, what with the General harping on about skill over power.

Each claimed a wand as the General offered it.

‘Find out what you can about what is waiting for us inside that area,’ the General snapped. ‘I want actionable intelligence! No nonsense generalities!’

‘Yes, General,’ the mages chorused, raising the wands.

Magic tingled down Rerebos’s sinuous neck as the mages eyes all glowed a white that perfectly matched that of the wands in their hands. They spoke in unison and the room suddenly seemed several degrees colder.

‘Danger, and opportunity,’ the mages chanted. ‘There are…five, no, six! Six strangers to this place who have come here. The last, the last is strange. He tastes of caverns deep beneath the ground.’

‘Beast and an invading party, most likely,’ the scoutmaster muttered.

‘What else can you see?’ the General asked.

‘It is difficult,’ the mages chorused. ‘The Veil is thick.’

‘Then part it! Tear through it! Look beyond!’

The light intensified, pouring from the mages mouths now as well as from their eyes. Sparks leapt from wand to wand to wand. They were burning a lot of magical energies down there!

‘The Veil parts we see…we see the city as it was! Unharmed! Before the coming of Lord Urkhan. We see…no, we are seen!’ There was panic in the voices of the mages.

The light gleaming from them took on a distinctly purple hue and suddenly Robin felt something twist, deep inside him. He felt a curious, fierce and exultant joy.

It tasted like the water in the shrine of Rhyth.

And it lasted only a moment. Gis barked out an order and he and his two bodyguards leapt forward, dragging their daggers across the mages’ throats, killing them all.

The purple light flickered and went out.

‘Idiots,’ the priest spat, ‘drawing the attention of a memory like that. Foolish. You should know better than to allow such things here. It’s too dangerous. Lord Urkhan is most displeased.’

Robin withdrew from Rerebos’s mind, shaken and mind roiling with the implications of what he had just witnessed. He was sure, more than ever, that he was in exactly the right place.

Not that he could think about that now. No. There was too much still to do. They had to survive the next few days, and if that was going to happen he couldn’t just hand around an spy on the evil old man.

He still had several wand swaps to make, after all.

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