Anthology: Once Around the Realms

"A cemetery! Great!" said Passepout unenthusiastically. "Save me a plot. This place looks creepy."

Volo, undaunted, continued his travelogue. "The surrounding woods are filled with the usual dangers one would encounter in the wilds, with a particularly large contingent of orcs and bugbears prevalent. It is within the city, however, that the real danger lurks."

"Wait a minute! Master Volo, I know I agreed to be your bond servant in exchange for your saving me from a beating at the gates of Suzail," the discouraged Passepout interrupted, stopping both travelers in their tracks. "And I know that your good name demands that we follow through on this silly folly to go all around Toril, and that part of the agreement is that I accompany you, but enough is enough. I am tired, I am hungry, and I am scared. I've been attacked in the night, pressed beyond the endurance of a normal thespian, and starved for hours on end."

"We ate when we left camp, an hour ago."

"It's only been a hour? It feels like an eternity!"

"Cheer up, my good Passepout. Our problems will soon be solved."

"How?"

"At Myth Drannor."

"I didn't ask where. I asked how."

"And I was explaining it all to you when you interrupted."

"I don't need the introduction to the tourist's guide to Myth Drannor, though I know that is your specialty."

"Not really. Tourists are a rather fickle lot. In my guides I always try to…"

"How is a ruined city going to help us distribute these accursed jewels?" cried the exasperated Passepout.

"Let me try to explain in a shorter, simpler way," Volo offered, once again taking to the road. The resigned thespian belatedly followed. "I believe it was Elminster who first pointed out that Myth Drannor is linked to many other places all over Faerun, and beyond, by almost a thousand gates."

Passepout perked up. "You mean all we have to do is use these gates to teleport ourselves all over, delivering the gems until they run out, so that we can return home to the Dragon's Jaws Inn?" "Sort of," Volo replied.

"So it's just a simple matter of garden-variety teleportation. Well be done in no time!"

"Not quite," the master traveler responded. "You see, no normal teleportation or translocation magics work properly within the city, or into or out of its confines. You see, the magic is bent by the mythal, so that a traveler might find himself transported to some rather inhospitable destinations without a guaranteed way back."

"So how does this help us, then?" Passepout implored.

Volo continued, once again lapsing into his guidebook narrator's voice. "Aside from Elminster, masters of mythal are few. Learning to guide the mythal correctly requires much magical research, an aptitude for handling it, and at least a bit of on-site practice." "So?"

"Well, I am the author of Volo's Guide to All Things Magical, a not too undistinguished conjurer, and I have passed this way before. Don't worry, son of Idle and Catinflas. We should do just fine."

Despite the ever-present threat of brigands and savage beasts, the two travelers journey to the legendary city passed relatively quietly with the sole exception of the feral growls of hunger that emanated from Passepout's stomach. The woods soon gave way to a meadow. In the distance the skeletal shapes of stone structures that had once comprised the greatest city in the known world soon came into view.

"Isn't it grand!" exclaimed Volo.

"If you say so," Passepout begrudged, "but if you ask me, there's not much there, except some overgrown ruins, a few cellars without buildings, and…"

Volo interrupted, "… gates to more places than we have gems to distribute. I think we should be on our way home by nightfall if we play our cards right."

The expert traveler paused for a moment, put down his pack, and got his bearings.

"Now, if I remember correctly, the first gate that we can access is over by that staircase of stone. On the other side lies Halruaa. I sort of wish we weren't in such a hurry. You'd love it there, and they'd love you, too. A full appreciation of the arts is enjoyed by all there. You, the master thespian, would be in great demand."

"Perhaps we can tarry there just a little bit?"

"Maybe later. Right now we just want to cover as much ground as possible. Now, let me see." Volo paused another moment and then rushed closer to the staircase, Passepout in tow. "If I remember correctly, the gate is right here. Mmmm, I love the scent of mythal in the air."

"I don't smell anything."

"Of course you don't, but no worry."

Volo concentrated as if going into a trance, and muttered a few words under his breath.

There! The way to Halruaa should be clear," he exclaimed, then, motioning to his bond servant to take the lead, he offered, "After you, master thespians. The people of Halruaa await."

"Thank you, good sir," Passepout responded, eager to see the glory of a living city after so many days on the road, and hear the roar of an appreciative crowd, even if only for a few minutes.

The son of Idle and Catinflas brushed off some of the dust of the journey from his less than regal robes, spit a spat into his hand, slicked back a lock of hair that was creeping down his forehead, and boldly took a step forward, feeling the power of the gate envelop him, until he felt himself once again on firm ground, where he stopped in his tracks.

Instead of a booming city of wonders, he was standing on a fiery cavern's floor, a ravenous beholder's eye-stalks turning their attention toward him as the gaping maw of its bulbous, levitating body floated in for the lunch that had just arrived.

As panic set in, the paralyzed Passepout heard a voice in the far-off distance from whence he came.

"You're blocking the gate," Volo called from the other side. "I can't get through with you in the doorway. Go on through!"

Passepout could maintain himself no longer and fainted dead out… falling backward, back through the gate, which promptly closed behind him, leaving the beholder lunchless.

"Get up!" Volo ordered, pouring a bucket of water from a nearby well over his traveling companion. "Wake up! We're burning daylight. This is no time to take a nap. I've seen people with a variety of reactions to teleporting, but passing out? Well, I guess there is a first time for everything."

Passepout groaned as he began to come around. Slowly he sat up, shaking his head to clear away the fuzziness, then quickly bolted upright and let loose with a scream of terror.

"Mommy!" he cried, his eyes darting back and forth looking for a place to escape to.

"What is the matter?" the master traveler asked. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Passepout cowered, eyes still searching for the monstrous disembodied eye that he had met on the other side of the gate.

"No, not a ghost," he said cautiously, slowly gaining his composure as the threat failed to materialize. "A beholder, and a hungry one at that!"

"That's odd," Volo responded. "I don't recall ever hearing of a beholder in Halruaa."

"Well, unless Halruaa is located in a fiery, sulphurous cavern, I don't think that was where we were headed."

"But I am sure that was the gate I used to get to Halruaa."

"Maybe something went wrong. Maybe that mythal stuff got in the way."

"I don't understand it," Volo said, a quiver in his voice. "Something like this has never happened to me before."

An idea popped into the master traveler's head.

"Relax," Volo ordered, "I need to scry your mind of the experience you just had in order to get a clearer idea of what is going on."

Volo placed his hand on his bond servant's forehead and concentrated with all of his might.

After a few seconds, the master traveler gave up.

"Nothing," he said. "I concentrate on your thoughts, and I find nothing."