An Unlikely Company

An Unlikely Company

Book 1 of The NetherGate Trilogy

A Novel

by Tyler R Lee

Licence Notes

This book is licensed for your personal use only. It may not be resold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Copyright 2017 Tyler R Lee

All Rights Reserved

Acknowledgments

To my Pathfinder group: Woden, Amrynn, Baelor, and Jokkoa, the inspiration for my adventure.

To my editors, Dr. Joshua Grasso, Caitlin Jones, Josh Forrester, and Brock Parsons. Without them, I never would have had the courage to finish this story, nor the insight to make it the best it could be.

Prologue

Jaald wasn’t happy at all about having to come to this place; the valley at the foot of Mt. Irif was treacherous enough with its labyrinth of rocks and boulders, made all the more difficult to traverse with the fog constantly rolling in from the river and forest to the east. But when this goblin’s master had told him that he was to enter the tomb of Aldrnar -- rumored to be haunted by the knights that served the once great commander, slaying any who dare enter and disturb their master’s sleep -- Jaald could not have been more unhappy.

He dared not speak such defiance to his master, however; Jaald wouldn’t dare provoke such wrath. The creature had seen firsthand what happens when someone was ignorant enough to question Lord Yranoc’s commands. If you were lucky he would grant you a quick death. Most were not. The worst, however, were the ones he brought back, the mindless undead slaves, souls still trapped in their bodies but with no will of their own to speak of, forced to continue doing their master’s bidding until he grew tired of their presence and destroyed them completely.

No, the goblin had decided that facing his possible death in a haunted tomb was preferable to his lord’s cruelty. And here he was, navigating the rocky labyrinth with the wand his master had given him. It pushed the fog aside and pulled him in the proper direction with its pale yellow light illuminating the tip, ensuring that he wouldn’t get lost on his errand. It didn’t help assuage his uneasiness at the noises he continued to hear around every corner; scrapping, rustling, and all manner of movement could be heard at all times. He knew it was probably just the wind being funneled through the passes, but it was still unsettling. The goblin also kept jumping at the frequent cawing and hooting of crows and owls, as well as the occasional howling of a faraway wolf off in the distance.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jaald came to a doorway in the mountain. It was a massive set of double stone doors, at least thirteen or fourteen feet tall and a good ten feet wide. All around the stone frame were dozens of ruins he had absolutely no skill to read or interpret. It didn’t matter, he had his orders. He replaced the wand back in his pack and pulled out a glowing glass orb. Within the orb was a mesmerizing display of swirling waves of purple, blue, green, and black. He quickly snapped himself out of the stupor and held the orb to the door, as Yranoc had instructed him. Then, the goblin puffed out his chest, lifted his green, pointy eared head up, and spoke loudly, in his gurgly, high pitched voice, Magicka Integum Voidius just as he had been instructed.

On command, the orb exploded in his hand and a huge wave of energy rocked the nearby area, sending the small creature sailing backwards. When he got to his feet, he noticed that the ruins around the door looked like they had been struck by lightning, each one charred and blackened. The door itself was cracked open now, just wide enough for him to slip through. He gulped, grabbed his master’s bag of tricks, and forced himself to enter.

The tomb was almost completely devoid of light, but his darkvision allowed him to see quite well all the same. His yellow, orb-like eyes glowed faintly in the darkness as he looked around. He spied several ornate, old coffins lining the walls, as well as some stairs that led to an upper area of the same room. As he climbed the stairs, he saw a similar setup of coffins. They made him uneasy.

Jaald looked around and saw a long, dark passage which he supposed he needed to enter; his master’s orders were to find Aldrnar’s resting place. Once he did, he was to break the thin crystal his master gave him, and that would be that. If he could just complete this task, he could leave this place. It was this thought that pushed the pale-green skinned creature forward, his pointy ears still perking at every sound, his large yellow orbs scanning every inch of the area for danger.

As he approached the passage, he thought he heard the sound of stone scraping stone. At that, he jumped and looked around. His darkvision didn’t make everything perfectly clear, but he couldn’t see any movement or hear anything else. Deciding it was either the wind again or that he was just imagining things in this terrifying place, he continued on. Then he heard it again, louder, and again, and again. What he saw when he finally turned around caused him to let out a cry of fear.

The scraping he had heard was the opening of coffins. Out of them came knights, dressed in what used to be fine armor. Underneath, he could see bone, rotting flesh, and death. The rumors weren’t just rumors, they were true; Aldrnar’s knights had awoken to keep his resting place safe.

Jaald pulled his pathetic dagger out and backed up against a wall, quivering in fear and waiting for one of them to get close enough to cut him down. It never happened. Instead, he saw the undead knights stop in their tracks. After a minute or so of no movement, each one began to writhe in what looked like pain, twisting this way and that. Then, all of a sudden, each one fell to the ground, their armor making loud clangs on the stone floor, smoke emanating from their eye sockets, noses, and mouths like a great fire being suddenly drowned by an oncoming flood.

Stop quivering, Jaald. Have some dignity in your work, came a dark, soft, but completely chilling voice. The creature recognized it as his Lord Yranoc. He had never been so happy -- at all -- to see his master, who seemed to glide up the steps and stand next to him, his black robe flowing as he moved, his black chestplate and gauntlets somehow glowing in the almost complete darkness. His face was that of what certainly used to be human or elf, but had long ago altered to match the darkness in his mind and heart. However, no matter how glad he was that his master had saved him, he could not help but cower in fear under those eyes. They were completely black, aside from his irises, which were white, almost glowing.

M--m--master, Jaald quivered in the common tongue. Thank you, master.

You are always welcome, Jaald, Yranoc said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Now, do you have the crystal I gave you?

The goblin eagerly reached into his pack. After rummaging around he pulled out a thin, purple crystal, no more than half a foot long. Of course. Jaald obey Lord Yranoc, Jaald said in his less than stellar grasp of the common tongue.

Of course, you do. Do you remember what I said to do when you found Aldrnar?

Yes, master. Lord Yranoc said to break crystal, then Jaald could leave. There was the slightest bit of hope in the goblin’s voice. He very much wanted to leave this place.

That’s right. Go ahead and break it now.

Jaald looked confused. But master said to find Aldrnar first.

And now he is telling you to do it here, instead. Yranoc’s voice was calm, but as cold as death, and Jaald knew that was his one and only warning.

Yes, master, the goblin said, terrified to delay. However, he was brimming with too much curiosity to resist one more question. After a slight hesitation, he said, Jaald is curious…

Yranoc was intrigued that the goblin would risk his wrath for answers, so he indulged him. Yes?

Jaald was wondering, is this to do with big magic plan at old ruins? Is this to do with that?

Yranoc laughed. Not quite, but perceptive of you, nonetheless, to recognize a possible connection. One must always have a backup, and this is simply our plan B. Just like when we take that village to get closer to the mountains in the north, this will help get us closer to our goal if anything should fall through with plan A. Yranoc’s voice was filled with icy confidence that plan B would not be needed.

Jaald was still confused, but he assumed that his master had everything all planned out and that he should just follow orders. Nodding in agreement, he grasped the crystal in both hands, and broke it in half. Surprise was clear on his face when just a whiff of purple smoke escaped and nothing else happened. He looked up at his master, hoping it wasn’t something he had done, but Yranoc was smiling. He chanced another question, Jaald go home now?

Oh, right, that, the evil sorcerer said with mock disappointment in his voice. I don’t think that will be necessary.

Jaald didn’t have time to question what his master meant. He immediately knew something was wrong, as he felt his skin start to tighten and his muscles start to spasm. The poor creature dropped the two pieces of crystal, which shattered and released more purple smoke. As he started to cry out in pain, violet veins began to crawl up his arms and spread to most of his body. He felt his blood start to boil and his veins start to stretch until they were ready to burst.

Yes, unfortunately for you, it takes more that just the magic inside the crystal to fully take effect. The wicked Yranoc walked around the writhing, screaming goblin. Death. It takes the added ingredient of death, for which you will selflessly facilitate for me.

Wh...why? the terrified goblin whimpered, twitching in pain as his blood vessels began to burst. I did as...master asked.

My dark magic needed to be infused in a living creature, he motioned to the writhing goblin, then released upon death. And again, he smiled, You’re noble sacrifice is much appreciated.

After a few heartbeats, Jaald stopped writhing and began bleeding onto the stone, quite dead after the purple veins had burst all over his body. The goblin’s blood had begun to seep into the stone, as well as the earth and the small amount of plant life that had sprung up in this dark place, infecting and blackening them. Yranoc checked his work, quite pleased, and walked out into the night. He had much more to do to prepare, much more work that needed to be done.

Chapter 1

Odd Companions

I have often wondered in my many, many years in this world what qualifies as a hero. To hear the children tell it, a hero is someone of which wonderous stories are told; grand adventures that take the gallant knight or the mighty warrior to some mystical destination where they combat evil and help good triumph. Though, it is true my dear friend Beragon was undoubtedly a hero of this type -- using his great skill in battle and his holy magic to counter an evil that threatened to tear this world asunder -- I find this point-of-view, while whimsical and not entirely untrue, to be far too narrow.

Grindor Ilvormor

Undershadow, a small settlement nestled in the southeastern valleys of Oriod between the southern Broken Range and northeastern Gray Hills, was so named for its close southern proximity to the much larger and more economically grand city of Shadowstern. For decades, this area had seen more than a fair amount of peace and stability, with only the occasional goblin raid or band of outlaws having to be dealt with.

Outside of the few trading carts and merchants that made their way in and out of the sleepy village thanks to the relatively safe road between it and its larger northern neighbor, not much could be said of excitement or adventure in the sleepy village of Undershadow. It was this very reason that made the dwarf Baelor Ironfist skeptical when his good friend and fellow dwarf, Kaznar, told him he had a proposition that might make for an exciting time.

As Baelor made his way down the only street in Undershadow towards the tavern where Kaznar designated as their meeting place he wondered what his admittedly odd friend could be up to. Baelor, a still young dwarf of only one-hundred eighty-six years, had been in the country of Oriod for a long time, and he had met his dwarf friend on a job to escort a merchant caravan through dangerous territory many years ago. Since then, they had gone their separate ways but chance or fate always seem to bring them back together. Throughout their journeys, they had grown to respect each other and even regard one another as great friends, despite their obvious differences. However, Baelor was always aware that, for a dwarf, Kaznar -- known in many places as Kaznar, The Traveler -- and his open-minded lifestyle, together with an upbeat personality were more than a little strange. Therefore, he was always a bit on guard when his friend had job prospects for them.

The dwarf pushed open the door to the modest tavern and immediately heard his friend’s call, Oi! Baelor, from the back. He made his way over to the table Kaznar was seated at, two mugs already waiting, and pulled up a chair. His friend pushed a mug of ale his way, smiling as he seemed to always, at least more than Baelor, and they both took a large swallow.

The two dwarves were alike in many ways, but sported some steep contrasts as well: Kaznar was a bit taller by several inches, but both were solidly built from years of fighting and moving around -- Kaznar in particular seemed to have avoided the slight gut most dwarves, no matter how tough, always seem to carry. Baelor sported a fiery red beard with a small braid on each side and a head of hair to match, while Kaznar’s was as black as night, usually sporting a ponytail when it wasn’t under the hood of his traveling cloak. Both had a scar or two visible on their face, though Kaznar’s skills as a knowledgeable cleric made his scars something of a mystery. Baelor always had his shield and axe in hand or on his back, while Kaznar sported a similar shield and hammer combo. The black-haired dwarf always wore a dark blue traveling cloak, while Baelor prefered his armor to be seen at all times.

What may have been most contrasting about the two dwarves, however, was their personality; Kaznar smiled more often than not, while Baelor would wear a constant sneer and prefered brute force to diplomacy. Kaznar was often tasked with reining him in when together, something that even the powerful cleric would admit was quite difficult.

Well, what’d’ye got for me, Kaz, Baelor began after another giant swig of ale.

Kaznar smiled. What? No ‘hi,’ or ‘hello,’ or ‘how have ya been’ for yer old friend? That’s so unlike ya, Baelor, he lied, his dialect not as dwarven heavy as Baelor’s, showing this dwarf had spent much time away from his kin.

Baelor rolled his eyes and huffed aloud. Up to jokes already. Ye know I hate damned small talk. Do ye have somethin’ fer me or did ye just call me here to jabber?

The light-hearted dwarf chuckled at the expected bluntness and impatience from his friend. Not so fast ya red bearded halfling, Baelor twitched at the comparison to the smaller race, I’ve got somethin’ for the both of us.

This made Baelor smile the slightest little bit before he could hide it. He enjoyed it when he and Kaznar got to work together. If nothing else, he enjoyed watching his friend work, as unorthodox as it was. He sat there and stared at Kaz for several seconds. Finally, when his friend said nothing, he said, Waitin’ for me to ask?

Of course, the black bearded dwarf smiled.

Baelor rolled his eyes again and asked, What have ye got fer us?

I’m glad ya asked.

* * *

Here looks pretty good, Jokkoa said with delight as she comfortably positioned herself in the apple tree about a mile outside of Undershadow. She brushed her gray hood off her head, revealing her messy blue hair hanging down to the back of her neck, green skin, bright yellow eyes, and sharp teeth. However, her face was not as harsh or sharp as most of her kind. It was not immediately threatening or frightening, and may have even been considered somewhat pleasant by some races. Now, let’s get a few of these apples and see if I can make some shiny coin in town with them. She nimbly snagged several apples from the branches and stuffed them into her pack, made much easier thanks to her ability to extend her arms several feet out, grabbing apples that she would have needed to climb to get, not that she would have had much trouble. Like most goblins, Jokkoa was quick, nimble, and stealthy. However, she was also more practical and more intelligent than much of her race, so she figured why exert herself if there was no need.

After stuffing several apples into her pack -- and taking a bite out of most of them --, she found a comfortable spot in the tree and started snacking on one of them as she grinned and bobbed her head back and forth to some imaginary tune playing in her head. However, her large, pointy ears soon picked up someone coming closer on the ground. She quickly dropped the munched-on apple into her pack, pulled her hood down over her face, and did her best to blend into the thick plumage of the apple tree as she observed the visitor. As a goblin, most people tended to attack her first and ask questions never. She had always found it safer for her and for others if she remained hidden.

As the unaware traveler came closer, Jokkoa noticed he wore a gray tunic of the same gray as her cloak. It was long sleeved and the bottom reached down past the individual’s knees, with a belt around his waist that held a blade on his left hip. On the back was sewn a crest of some kind: A left hand palm down, a crossbow on top of that pointed up with two bolts forming an X on top of it, all surrounded by black circle. Each of the fingers had an ancient rune or text upon them. The same crest was sewn on his tunic’s left breast. She could tell that he was quite large, over twice her stature. With his hood, she could not tell what race he was, though. This was soon fixed, however, as she saw his large gray hands reach up and remove the hood.

* * *

Woden let down his hood to sit and enjoy his lunch, revealing a bald, gray head with slightly pointed ears, and a black beard around his mouth and prominent chin. The half-orc had come a long way since his last meal and he assumed this valley was as good as any. It seemed safe, and the nearby town would offer him a chance to resupply, though he had doubts the small town could provide him with anything of much use outside of food. However, he wanted to take his meal in seclusion and enjoy the peacefulness of the day.

The mysterious traveler sat beneath the apple tree and removed some jerky from his pack. It was all he had left, though he didn’t mind it. He wasn’t the cook his mentor had been, and it had been six months since they separated for Woden to take his own journey and earn his place within their society. He wasn’t worried, however. He could prepare his own food well enough to get him by. The traveler spotted an apple on the ground, picked it up, wiped it off on his tunic and took a bite. Not bad, he whispered in his deep voice and he smiled as he took another huge bite.

Getting comfortable, Woden removed his pack and placed it up against the tree, and then did the same with his scimitar. However, he kept his buckler attached to his left arm as he sat up against the tree and continued eating the apple. The shield was red, and had the same symbol from the back of his tunic and upon his breast in black upon it, the symbol of The Gray Order. He finished the apple and even ate the core. He then stretched his arms and legs and closed his eyes so as to listen more carefully to his surroundings.

After several moments of meditation, Woden got to one knee and shuffled through his pack. He then gently ran his hand around on the ground, as if feeling for something that he knew was there but he couldn’t see. He picked up some of the soil and rubbed it through his fingers. Then he muttered louder than a whisper, Impressive, as he spun quicker than someone his size should be able, buckler aimed at the surprised figure in the tree, his hand ready to squeeze the trigger of the crossbow attached to the underside of his shield -- something of his own design. The two locked eyes as Woden debated firing or investigating.

* * *

The coast looked clear. It always looked clear, Amrynn thought as she made her way through the far too wide-open area between her home in the small forest and the town of Undershadow. She wasn’t a fan of wide open spaces; it was too easy to be spotted. Though, it made any dangers easier to spot as well; a double-edged sword she made peace with every time she made the short journey to barter her furs, hides, and herbs to Jerrad, a well-mannered, kind hearted merchant in Undershadow.

However, her faithful companion Jespaar at her side always made her feel more at ease. After all, he had always been her friend and he would never betray her; not like they had. She touched the scar along the side of her face as she remembered that day, then pulled her traveling cloak tighter around her and pulled her hood further over her long black hair and pointed elven ears. As always, she was dressed in a fitted leather jerkin of dark brown, with bracers and boots of the same material, and fur lined paints of deep green. Jespaar, sensing his friend’s unease, walked up and nuzzled her hip. She responded by smiling and running her hand through his thick, light-gray fur, with just a hint of green outlining his black stripes. It was hard to feel too uneasy when your companion was a full-grown forest tiger.

Some of the citizens of Undershadow did not share her ease when in close proximity to the tiger. However, most knew Amrynn and knew that Jespaar would not harm them if no harm came to his friend. Children would often run up to the large cat and pat him -- a little harder than he seemed to care for --, which Amrynn wasn’t fond of, but she never made a move to stop them, nor did Jespaar. Jerrad, however, had told Amrynn several times that the tiger should wait outside when she entered his shop due to the small size of his establishment and the large size of the animal. Amrynn rarely listened and Jerrad usually conceded and allowed the beast entry. This time would probably be no different.

Hello, Jerrad called from out of sight when he heard the bell on his door ring, signifying a customer. Amrynn looked around not seeing the merchant. At this, she waved Jespaar in, who stealthily crept through the door as if he hadn’t already been spotted by a dozen people outside.

After a few moments of silence, Amrynn asked softly, Hello? She heard no answer from Jerrad. The elf looked around at the small shop; nic-nacs and trinkets of less than high value littered the shelves. Herbs, furs, and such were in a few different places, giving no apparent order to the shop itself. Jerrad? Amrynn called out again, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

What? Yes, Jerrad said as he sprang up from behind the counter, causing Amrynn, always on guard, to jump back and Jespaar to bound in front of her and let out a low growl. She dropped her guard a bit when she noticed the worried and distracted look on Jerrad’s face. The shopkeeper had always been good and fair to her, so she found herself caring about what might be troubling him.

Oh my, he stuttered as he looked about,