• Chapter One: The Dandelion Inn



    The great sea of knee-high crabgrass stretched along the horizon under an angry morning sky. A massive weather front had passed through in the night, but hadn't fully died away as could be observed by the swift creeks that overflowed their banks and the fierce winds still whipping about. When the wind did rise throughout the valley, the grass stirred and rustled as if it were alive, and when the wind died back down, the stillness of the valley returned but not before the wind lashed out at the grass and howled like some beast in the night. Behind this now-passing storm, more dark clouds pressed the horizon and had clearly decided to make a beeline for the valley; the cool weather of autumn had finally come.



    Rising majestically along the coast, the mountains of the Silverspires were known to hold many outlying cities and villages of the land of Phaelondyr. In one section of the mountains, several smaller pathways converged onto the main trail way that cut through the valley from north to south, another east to west. Where the two intersected, a walled city-Alunos- could be found, made up from several villages that had merged over the course of time. Houses made from sun-dried bricks of sod and hewn stone wedges huddled together in a circular formation that spiraled outward until it gradually thinned out. Beyond the town proper, just outside the city walls, scattered farms dotted the landscape, coming to an abrupt stop at the surrounding city's forest barrier. The woods were the most dominating feature within the mountain-cradled valley. Wandering in from the northwest was a fast moving creek-the Albadine- and wound itself lazily around the city before disappearing once again into the southeast. Sunrise had come for the city of Alunos, with ringlets of smoke snaking out from nearly every chimneystack, one predominantly more so than the rest this early morn.



    Shailoh Shadowberyl straightened his back, flexing his shoulders in hopes of banishing the cramps that had taken residence in his muscles. Yawning and stretching, he tossed the damp cloth into the pail of lukewarm water next to him and surveyed the quiet, empty room. It had been getting increasingly more difficult to keep up this part of the inn than the rest. Where the rest had only needed tending to about once every four months or so, and that was for only a light dusting, the taproom and dining area required so much more. These days, only the locals frequented this now-quiet room, and then it was to only drown away their sorrows in spirits.



    Shailoh shook his head at this, as he believed all spirits did was reinforce ones sorrows; it kept bad memories hidden, when he believed that they should be dealt with and allow the heart to heal. That's how, he believed, his parents had died, not from sickness but from heartache that had never healed, or so he had been told on numerous occasions from his aunt and uncle, owners of the Dandelion Inn, with whom he currently lived. Then again, the more time goes by, the more your mind is allowed to wander from reality. The pains his body felt from the cramped muscles swiftly brought Shailoh back from his dark reverie and back to tending to his duties in the inn.



    As he surveyed, he noticed that there had been, at one time, a lot of love and dedication put into this place. Alas, he noted, no matter how much love and dedication had been entrusted into this place, it couldn't hide the ever-present and growing signs of wear and tear, only constant upkeep could do that now. There was always something that needed repair, and his aunt and uncle ensured that he would have a full day's chores to tend to. The Dandelion Inn was not too fancy, but it had all the comforts of home and had always seemed to exude a feeling of warmth. Of course, it had been nearly three years since it had been graced with bustling business, brought about by the stream of foreigners that came through the region.



    The inn was the largest in Alunos, as well as the largest building on Rose Petal Lane, one of the busier streets set inside the mercantile district. Shailoh stood there listlessly as his thoughts tried to refocus on his current duties that he needed to finish. He felt a sense of accomplishment in the inn, the only real place he had ever truly called home. He could not recall his first home, as he had been quite young and had been sent away. Years later, he'd been told by his aunt and uncle that he was sent away due to the fact that his parents had died mysteriously one night many years ago, and their last request be that Shailoh be sent here to be raised. His "aunt and uncle" weren't blood related, but had been friends of his parents. Still, he felt comfort here, and he had grown to love both his aunt and uncle very much. Having been given the responsibilities of ensuring that the inn was taken care of, he had throughout the entirety of the inn's interior, from the attic all the way to the root cellar. The only places he had never been able to access were the four towers that were located at every corner of the rectangular building. Those, his uncle had told him, were off limits and did not need tending to. All Shailoh had ever managed to gain from his uncle about the towers was that they had been built as the personal living quarters of the original owners of the inn, a group of magi that had since retired from the services of the country's finest military force, known as the Plumed Gryphons of Phaelondyr.



    The towers, Shailoh discovered all too well, had been sealed shut for the past one hundred years. Several years ago, Shailoh had touched one of the heavily warded doors, and what resulted next was Shailoh had found himself lifted off the ground and being sent hurtling through the hallway with an amazing force the likes of which he had never felt before. He lost consciousness and shattered several bones as he impacted the wall, taking the divine powers of a cleric to heal the lad. After having spent nearly a week in a coma, all were amazed that the boy had even lived at all. After that event, he never again touched the doors. However, that is not to say that he didn't wander down, during the night, to just sit and stare at them for hours at a time. He felt it was as if the doors were somehow calling to him, though he never voiced this to anyone.



    The smells that began to drift out of the kitchen quickly brought Shailoh back from his daydream. As he stood there, his eyes fell upon the massive fireplace in the dining hall. Next to the fireplace was some of the wood that he had cut, hauled, and stacked. The rest of the wood he had taken below, to the inn's root cellar. Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention. Behind the bar was a large, reinforced, wall-sized window that allowed you to observe life beneath the waters of the Albadine. Outside the building, a trench had been built to divert the flow of a portion of the river and skirt a portion of the inn. The other walls had been crafted with great care to ensure that the glass wall never shattered or cracked, which would have flooded the inn if it had. In fact, the inn's first owners had cast a series of spells that strengthened the glass, thus giving it the strength of tensile steel. Walking towards the window, he peered out to watch the fish as they passed peacefully by. Smiling, he returned back to his chores.



    Shadows began to slowly grow in the room as the darkness remained even in the presence of the day, as the sun remained hidden behind the clouds. Within a few hours, the inn would be officially open for business. Shailoh glanced around and a smile grew on his face as he realized that he was almost finished with the morning chores. Rubbing his neck, he reviewed all that he'd done that morning: the walls had been scrubbed, the wood had been stacked and the fire growing, the tables had been both cleaned and polished, and the floors had been swept. All that he had left to do was mop the floors and prepare the mugs and eating ware for the customers, and since the weather was not promising, he didn't expect the inn to do that much business. He surmised that he would be completely finished with all his chores within the next half hour.



    As Shailoh returned the last couple of chairs back underneath their tables, a light-skinned, well-dressed man who, while appearing to be in his late forties or early fifties but still having the look of being in top health, emerged from the kitchen, holding a tray of steaming mugs stacked one on top of the other. As the swinging kitchen doors flapped behind him, the tantalizing smell of what had been cooking for several hours over the firepots filtered into the room.



    "Should be another quiet day for both the weather and business," Shailoh's uncle said as he came around the taproom's bar. Setting down the tray on the bar, Shailoh walked over towards them with a dry cloth emerging from his belt. Grabbing a mug, he began drying them off and stacking them to one side.



    "Well uncle, I'd like the weather warmer and the business not so quiet," answered Shailoh as he inched his stool closer to the bar. Grabbing another mug, Shailoh added, "I walked my feet off yesterday and barely got anything for my effort. The crowd, like the weather, is a bit too gloomy for my liking," he paused, then continued with a bit more zeal, " though it's not all that bad I suppose. At least the rain seems to make the fish more active".



    Having cleared all the mugs from the tray, Shailoh's Uncle Thandrim looked up and chuckled, "Speaking of which, have you seen Nemesis in there lately? I've been keeping my eye out for him, but he hasn't shown up for days. I think someone must have caught him. That catfish could feed a small family for days".



    Seeming to have ignored Thandrim's comment about the big catfish, Shailoh said quietly, " Still Uncle, people seem to be a bit more nervous lately. Why, after you went upstairs, Olessa dropped a glass, and can you believe it, Maartok jumped up from his chair and leveled that staff of his at her before he realized what she'd done. He seemed to feel bad afterwards I think, because he gave her a hefty tip before taking his leave".



    Stroking his beard, Thandrim made a frown and said sharply, "So that's what the commotion was that I had heard. I'd been meaning to ask you about that." Thandrim's frown was replaced by a slight smile as he added, " Maartok takes shots at even his own shadow, though I suppose you can't blame him, having to deal that idiot of a nephew that he lives with. That man is a---".



    "Careful Uncle", Shailoh warned as he cut his uncle in mid-sentence, "While I do agree with you, that nephew has a very dark group of friends that aren't so civilized as you, me, or even Maartok. Rumor has it that he also dabbles in forbidden magic."



    Thandrim remarked in return, " Shailoh, unless that dolt and his cronies decided to bathe recently, they won't be able to eavesdrop on us. We'd both be able to smell them before they had gotten anywhere near enough to listen."



    This got a heartfelt laugh from Shailoh, which brought a smile to Thandrim's face. "You are right, however. The citizens cannot put up with this much longer. The fact that people, decent people at that, are going missing and being attacked maliciously outside of the gates, is an outrage. However, soon the Plumed Gryphons will get involved and will find out who or what is responsible for this and will deal with them, rest assured of that," he patted Shailoh on the shoulders. "Shailoh," he added," we must think positively. At least the weather will drive people inside, right into our arms, true? We must give them support when there isn't much left."



    "I suppose you are right uncle. Still, what if one of us goes missing, or worse?" Shailoh said with a hint of fear in his voice. As he grabbed the last mug to dry, it slipped and fell out of his hands and shattered onto the wooden floor.



    "Careful nephew," his uncle said calmly, "and don't worry so much about something you have no control over. Remember," he chuckled, " even evil, foul-smelling runts need to eat and drink, the same as you or I." Thandrim turned and pulled a wooden box from behind the bar.



    Removing a key that rested around his neck, he unlocked it and began removing coins and placing them into the inn's customer drawer. Cocking his head sideways, he eyed Shailoh and added," And I still say it must be thirsty work, haranguing innocent, hard-working people. Up until the middle of last week, Ghozur and his toadies had been in here every night for the past month or so."



    In the middle of sweeping the shattered remains of the mug, Shailoh approached his uncle and said hesitantly," Is it true or is it more rumor that the armies of Darkwatch are pressing northward and via the seas, preparing to wage more war against us?"



    Thandrim eyed Shailoh, appearing to weigh his answer before he answered. "Shailoh, there's been talk of that for years, ever since the lands of Morgraeth and our own nation of Phaelondyr increased their naval presence at sea." Even as he spoke, he realized that he didn't fully buy that answer, and knowing Shailoh as he did, he wouldn't either.



    Almost on cue, Shailoh frowned as he said," I don't believe that any more than you. I--".



    The door opened.