Yolanthe and Voltag left the forests and entered the lowlands of the Finger of Torn an hour before dusk. The land had been farmed and used for grazing for centuries, and only a few small copses of trees decorated the landscape. It was after the harvest, so most of the fields lay fallow or newly plowed and seeded for next year’s harvest. Small farms could be seen every couple of miles along the main road and the paths that branched off from it. In some fields, penned by ancient stonewalls, could be seen cattle, sheep, and goats.
Riding towards them on road came three men. As they drew closer Voltag instinctively reached up for the handle of his axe, but Yolanthe stopped him with a glance.
“They are from Seatorn. I can tell by the colours,” she said.
When the riders came within haling distance of the dwarf and half-elf, they slowed their mounts to a trot and approached cautiously. Voltag squinted to make out their features against the setting sun. The lead rider was a human, perhaps forty years old, with a face worn with care. He wore a blue cloak embroidered with silver set in a wave pattern. The other two riders were younger and bigger. They both wore light armor and carried swords on their hips. They eyed the travellers warily as they approached and their hands lay on the pommels of their weapons.
When he was within ten feet the older man reined his horse to a stop.
The man stared at the half-elf as if hoping her statements were part of a joke and that she had forgotten to deliver the punch line. When it was clear that she was serious, the man slumped in his saddle.
Voltag and Yolanthe sat with the older human around a small fire. The two other riders stood guard in the darkness.
“That he is,” said Voltag.
“How do you know that?” asked Kerimos.
“Had some trouble with Bald-rock in the mountains. Heard from the locals. The man is mad,” said the dwarf.
“Mad dog needs no reason to bite,” grunted Voltag.
“You hear a great more than we do,” said Kerimos suspiciously.
“We have no aqueducts,” said Kerimos. “Two rivers flow towards the tip of the Finger of Torn, where Seatorn lies. Both enter the ground outside the city. We collect the water in great cisterns beneath ground. There is so much water that we divert much of it to flush the sewers. The water supply cannot be cut off.
“What else can you tell us about him?” ask Voltag.
Voltag looked at the half-elf, then back at Kerimos.
They sat staring into the fire in silence for a few minutes.
“So how will you deal with him?” asked Yolanthe.
“I have to return to Seatorn and report to the council, but it is in my authority to hire mercenaries to . . . help with problems. If Baltrog were killed by people not associated with Seatorn, then war could be averted,” said Kerimos carefully.
He looked up at the dwarf and half-elf.
“Have I found some?” he asked.
Kerimos’s eyes darted back and forth between the two adventurers. He didn’t understand their bond, but he recognized its intensity.
“We’ll help in what way we can,” said Voltag.