“Our quarry is in Shadowspire? I have no idea why in the nine hells you believe that Rirorni, Re’Lan,” Vomarian said, standing next to the navigation wheel back onboard the Unsinkable III. He mocked in a heavy, exaggerated Rirorni accent, “Araminth had a lover. He could be lying, for all we know. I hope you know what you were doing paying him a small fortune for that information.”
His ire had focused straight at My‑re for the past two weeks since leaving the Rirorni capital of Rithakhar and having to fly around the mountains north of it. She understood why. He blamed her for selling the mere dragon, Koma, to the Great Khan Karameikos. While she technically did sell Koma, it proved the only way to prevent drawing suspicion of their true goal of finding Araminth and leaving the palace in one piece. The transaction also made them quite a bit of gold but her decision quickly lost in any debate. Koma was not hers to sell, and she overheard him say, on more than one occasion, ‘She doesn’t know what she’s doing. ' He was probably right on that point. She didn’t know what she was doing. A stupid girl on a foolish mission, looking for what happened to a silly girl. A translator for Rathiri, the Rirorni dialect, and not the de facto leader of this operation, but the gods of the plains had a way of putting her in the spotlight.
“I believe him when he said Araminth’s lover Westwind is in Shadowspire,” My‑re asserted.
“Why?”
“The possibilities were growing thin about finding the fate of Araminth. It’s at least a lead. Besides, the Rirorni are very superstitious. They believe lying will cause their manhood to fall off.”
Vomarian scoffed.
“Well, if he is lying and his manhood doesn’t fall off, I’ll make sure my axe does it for him,” My‑re quipped with a wide smile. He snorted at her attempt to lighten his mood.
The archmage Havelock emerged from below deck. As the flying ship flew, the wind whipped his already unkempt grey hair wilder. He approached the Shagornan Elf captain and stretched out his hand, which contained a small vial.
“It’s my very own recipe. Three drops in liquid at night and only three drops. Then, in no time, you’ll be back to being regular in the next day or so.”
The elf took the container and downed its entire contents.
Besides having a condition of a ‘stick-stuck-up-the-butt’ the past two weeks, it seemed that proverbial branch caused him to get backed up. Rumor had it he hadn’t had a proper constitutional for going on a week. My‑re understood his discomfort. Being away from the Isle of the Eye, sleeping in a rough canvas hammock, eating heavily salted food, and drinking grog daily played havoc with her morning routine. She wondered if Havelock might have any more of that stuff.
“Forest ahead, Captain!” came a call from the crow’s nest.
“Finally,” Vomarian mumbled, turning to the elven navigator. “Stay clear of the road and avoid any civilians. Find a place within the timberland to land and hide the ship. We’re still close to the Rirorni Empire, so I’ll take My‑re with me into the city if I need her to translate Rathiri. I’m aiming for a low profile when we search for this Westwind. We’ll trek the rest of the way on foot through the woodlands into Shadowspire.”
***
Two hours later, Vomarian and Havelock emerged from the captain’s quarters. They approached My‑re, standing at the ship's bow. The Unsinkable III touched down within the forest surrounding Shadowspire. Vomarian had a quickened and lighter gate than previously. From his beaming facial expression, his mood seemed to improve, too.
A stench invaded her nostrils. “What in the gods' name is that smell?” My‑re blurted out.
“That’s hurtful,” Vomarian said in a deflated tone.
“I believe she is referring to my insect repellent,” Havelock said, corking a slime-green vial. “It’s highly effective, but I admit the smell could be better.”
“Oh, you’re not putting that foul substance on me,” My‑re said, holding her nose shut.
Havelock seemed a bit taken aback. “I would reconsider. These trees are likely home to the notorious Shadowspire gliding wood ticks.”
“What?”
“They like to drop from the trees and dig their way into your scalp.”
“They're just bugs. Why should I care?”
“They’re extremely difficult to get out,” Havelock commented. “Fire works best.”
Cursing under her breath, My‑re said, “Fine, just don’t place anymore on me than absolutely necessary.”
Havelock dabbed it strategically on her body.
“Eww, how in the nine hells can I feel, smell, and taste this gunk all at the same time?”
“That’s because it’s being absorbed into your skin, my dear.”
***
Emerging from the forest, the two Lord Protectors had to block the sun’s glare from their eyes. They looked at an old, broken wooden sign lying on the ground covered in foliage. Kicking away the undergrowth, it read “Arena 81” in faded letters.
“Havelock said Shadowspire was a town never properly named, so it was called Arena 81 for the longest time,” Vomarian explained.
“So, where did they come up with Shadowspire?” My‑re asked, but noticed the brightness of the sun fade. A great shadow encroached and began to encompass them. In the distance, they saw the top of a gigantic structure tower over the forest.
They followed the main road, rounded a bend of tall trees, and came upon the entrance of Shadowspire. Massive city walls surrounded the town, which wasn’t surprising with the Rirorni horde a close neighbor. Two towers flanked the walled entrance, and guards on top looked down at them. Through a raised iron gate protecting the town, the fronts of numerous buildings were visible within. A massive aqueduct carried water through the city. However, a colossal tower, part castle and part fortification, soared over everything. It reached into the heavens and proved a marvel of ingenuity that even the finest dwarven stonemason would have to nod his respect to. It cast a long shadow over the city and into the countryside beyond.
“Well, this is impressive,” My‑re said, looking upwards. “I guess we know now where Shadowspire gets its name. I wouldn’t mind exploring here a bit.”
“The only thing of use in this city is tracking down this Westwind and his tale of the fate of Araminth. Everything else is secondary,” Vomarian said regarding the immense keep.
“Fine. Where do you want to start the search?”
“Shadowspire’s gladiatorial arena.”