Jean Rabe - The Silver Stair

Under her direction, Gair closed his eyes and let his senses drift. In his mind, he could see the features of Goldmoon's tent and see her sitting across from him. The sensation was heady and a bit unnerving, as he was perceiving the world unconventionally. Rather, he was searching for things not of this world. In the back of his mind, he saw shadows all about him, fleeting images of insubstantial people, but no one he recognized.

"Search a little longer. Picture a different land," she told him. "Picture different shadows, ones recognizable and familiar."

"Father…"

Goldmoon moved to stand behind the elf and placed her hand on his shoulder for reassurance. The healer had discovered this path of mysticism accidentally years ago when she was grieving for her husband. When her senses reached out and touched his spirit, she was at first startled, then overcome with joy. Since his death, she had felt so alone. To contact him again, she had to mentally retrace all the steps. There had been many failed attempts before she finally found him and the secret again. Ever since, contacting him had been relatively easy, and she often found herself talking to him without even realizing she'd opened the door.

Until this evening, the healer had never taught anyone this mystical ability. Her doubts about doing so now vanished when she saw a calmness come over Gair, his brow smoothing and his breathing deepening. This student would be the exception.

"Father, I wasn't there when the dragon came. I should have been with you, not sneaking off into town when you had ordered me to stay home. If I hadn't been so young and foolish, if I hadn't disobeyed you…"

Goldmoon stepped back. She didn't want to eavesdrop on his conversation, and so she reached for her cloak and padded from the tent, leaving Gair to his visit.

"I couldn't stay in the forest afterward," Gair continued. "There was nothing for me there. … You … my sisters … all gone. I sold the estate and took the emeralds. I made a few investments for the future. I'm sorry, Father… ."

Goldmoon strolled toward the end of the community where the dwarves had their encampment. Jasper had joined two other dwarves, who were nursing mugs of ale and hovering close to a low-burning fire.

"Can't sleep?" Jasper's voice was uncharacteristically thick, evidence he'd been drinking.

Goldmoon nodded and sat on an overturned crate and warmed her hands by the fire.

"Tomorrow we finish the foundation." Jasper glanced at the moon. "Well, later today, actually. Told you my friends work fast. We'll start buildin' in a day or two. Listen, don't be surprised if…" The dwarf's words trailed off, and his eyes narrowed. He had spotted Gair leaving Goldmoon's tent.

"It's all right, Jasper."

Then his gaze drifted from Gair to the construction site. "Always concerned about you, Goldmoon. Always… what in the name of Uncle Flint's beard is that?… A monster!" he hollered, reaching for the hammer that always hung at his waist. Jasper's short legs propelled him toward a large pile of building supplies, and Goldmoon followed. The other dwarves threw down their mugs and trundled awkwardly after them.

"Monster!" Jasper's cries alerted the sentries, who ran toward the construction site. Here and there lights were blinking on inside tents. "Monster!"

Gair's long legs carried him quickly through the settlement toward the noise. He was at Goldmoon's side, long sword drawn, before the sentries had reached her.

"There's the monster!" Jasper waggled his hammer, pointing at a dark shape hunkered down behind a pile of lumber. He stalked toward it, Gair towering behind him. One of the inebriated dwarves grabbed a rock and skirted around the other side.

Jasper and the elf raised their weapons, intent on striking the trespasser, who hadn't moved. The elf's eyes narrowed, and his hand shot forward just as Jasper was drawing his hammer back to throw it. Gair grabbed the handle and yanked it from the dwarf's stubby fingers.

"It's not a monster," the elf said. "Not exactly, anyway."

"Orvago!" Goldmoon breathed from behind them both.

The creature edged away from the pile, holding out a long hairy arm to keep the drunken dwarves from coming closer.

More lanterns blinked on. People draped in sleeping clothes and blankets emerged from tents and lean-tos, some bearing torches. Camilla clanked forward, still in her plate mail. Willum, wrapped in blankets and hoisting a sword, was at her side. Footfalls sounded across the dry ground of the settlement. There were sounds of weapons being drawn.

Goldmoon whirled to face the others. "He's a friend," she explained. Her stern expression stopped all but Camilla from coming closer. She made a gesture, and those who had weapons out sheathed them.

More torches. The construction site's shadows were being chased away, revealing the green-gray form of the creature. His tunic was stiff with dried blood, and matted blood stuck here and there to his fur.

"What manner of creature is this?" someone sputtered.

Iryl Songbrook made her way through the crowd, eyes wide, mouth opened at first in a yawn, then open wider in amazement.

"He's nothing but a monster!" an elderly man shouted. He wriggled a crooked finger. "A demon from the Abyss!" The woman at his side gaped at the creature as her husband continued, "He's not human. He's a creature of Chaos!"

"I'm not human!" Gair cut in, "and they're not human." The elf pointed to the dwarves. His sword was held protectively now, letting the settlement folks know he was defending the creature.

"It's a creation of some foul wizard," the old man went on.

"Look at all that blood on that thing!" another cut in. "It must have killed someone, it did. We've got to kill it. It's probably part of the band that attacked you and killed Harrald!"

"He didn't attack us!" Gair returned. His free hand was in his pocket, feeling the arrowhead. "It wasn't him."

The creature growled softly. A trace of spittle edged over his lower lip and ran to the ground. He growled again. It seemed as if he were trying to say something.

Several settlers gasped. "A demon for certain!" someone cried.

"Goldmoon, save us from the dog-beast!" a young woman cried. She clutched the hands of two young boys. "Save us!"

Cries of "Save us," "Demon," and "Dog-beast" echoed around the camp.

The healer padded toward the growing throng and tried to calm them. Behind her, Gair sheathed his sword. Jasper's inebriated friends took another look at the creature and swayed unsteadily on their feet.

"It's all right," Gair said to the creature, who grunted and brushed by the elf, heading toward Goldmoon. The crowd backed away instantly. The old man stabbed his finger at the air, pointing at the creature and leering.

Goldmoon shook her head. "Shame on all of you!" she said. "I don't judge any of you by how you look." She held a hand out to Orvago, and the creature took it with his clawed paw. "Gair and I met Orvago earlier today. His clothes are bloody because he fought a boar."

"The monster's not staying here!" This came from a young man standing next to the elderly couple, one of the tent town's more affluent members.

"He's not a monster," Gair said.

"I believe he's a gnoll," Camilla said suddenly. The knight's face was grim, and her hand was tightly clenched around the pommel of her sword, though it remained sheathed. "What in the name of Kiri-Jolith is a gnoll doing on Schallsea Island?"

"A gnoll?" Iryl found her way to the knight's side. "What's a gnoll?"

"I never saw one before," the knight was quick to reply. "Only pictures, and I've heard tales, but I don't really know anything about them, other than the fact that they're not native to anywhere around here. According to Solamnic records, Lord Toede captured gnolls and used them as servants."