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“No,” Aquila answered. “I am not. I am no Wyrmspeaker. Rezmir is the Wyrmspeaker of the Black Flight and I am merely one of his lieutenants. There are 4 others each representing the 5 aspects of Tiamat, our Queen.”
“Very well,” Jefaris said abruptly. He had listened to the words, those spoken and those thought by the woman, with great interest. She was telling the truth, or at least part of it, that much he was certain. She was also holding certain things back. He wasn’t shocked by that. He, too, would conceal much under similar circumstances.
Shifting his staff on to his shoulder, he looked at Aquila intently. “How do you propose we enter this camp? Waltz into the front door so you can surrender us to your master? Take us by secret ways known only to you, and of course those guards stationed there to capture us?,” he added caustically.
“And ruin my chance to unleash you on Rezmir?” Aquila countered with a coy smile. “Sure, I could score some points with ‘my master’ by turning you over to him. I might even earn a promotion from Chief Doormat to Exalted Bootlicker.”
Aquila’s coy smile turned grim and serious as she gave Jefaris a hard stare. “I have no desire to be anyone’s bootlicker no matter how fancy the title. I want Rezmir dead more than you can imagine. I can get you into his camp easily enough and even to Rezmir himself, but his guards will still be an obstacle. He will have at least four that never leave his side, but as long as they are dealt with quickly and Rezmir is eliminated before the whole camp is aroused I can deal with any aftermath.”
“A smarter plan however might be to wait until after the camp is on the move. Disguised as cultists you would fit right in until a more opportune moment presented itself. We could attempt to distract the guards and kill Rezmir in the chaos.”
Jefaris smiled slightly at Aquila, appreciating the sarcasm with which she responded. If he didn’t have an overwhelming urge to kill her he could probably come to like her very well. “If we are to masquerade as cultists we will need to know how to play the part. I’m sure as the current Chief Doormat you can educate us on how best to fit and blend in. Our success will depend on us passing through the ranks. Unless all of your cultists are mind slaves?”
“We will need to hide our identity very well,” Miri mused quietly, glancing between Jefaris and Aquila. “Surely there are those who know our features, yet we do not know who to avoid. Further, one glimpse at our brands, and all is lost.” She absentmindedly touched the blue sigil. “What you ask may be beyond our capabilities.”
Despite his misgivings Brother Roc began to accept that Aquila might be telling what she considered the truth to be. And that she would be happy to leave the Order behind should the main threat to her wellbeing – Rezmir – be defeated. In crossing that threshold he immediately saw another benefit of gaining access to the camp, that being the facility to investigate directly the fate of his fellow monk and mentor, Brother Huracan. Perhaps he was still alive and a captive of the cult? This would be the most reliable way to find out.
“These brands of which you speak,” he said aloud, having again heard about them in the conversation but still not having grasped their true significance. “I have no such marking. I could go without fear of discovery from that perspective, if it would help.”
“The bulk of Rezmir’s army are little more than hired mercenaries and not true cultists. Fitting in would not be a problem among this rabble of opportunists and thrill seekers working for coin and plunder,” Aquila replied.
“Few have seen you close enough to recognize you and most of those who have are dead. Your chances of being discovered would be slim, and they would not raise an alarm as long as you were in my company. As for your sigil’s none but Rezmir and his few close associates would know what they mean, and to them they might think you a loyal follower to Rezmir rather than as an enemy. The rest of the camp would think little of it, perhaps thinking it merely a signature of some former mercenary band that you belonged to. They will all believe and do what I tell them in any case, it is only Rezmir and his personal guard and his few associates that will pose any threat, and even they will pay little heed to you until we approach Rezmir’s tent.”
Fenella speaks up reminding the others that there is also another matter at hand.
“Our time is running out with the dragon. She will be back soon to claim her egg or destroy what is left of the village and villagers who have already suffered as much loss as they can.”
“We don’t have the time to wait for the right moment, our moments are almost up. We must find out how the egg is being transported and target those who are guarding the egg. That will be our distraction and then while myself and whomever aids me gains access to the egg the other half of us must gain access to Rizmir and make this work somehow. I’m sure the dragon will be helpful in discouraging most of the cultist from trying to seek revenge as we flee.”
“How do we proceed?”, Fenella ask her companions.
“I think perhaps we should best discuss that elsewhere,” suggested the monk, still wary of the imprisoned Purple Lady. Looking at the captive, he nodded. “Thank you for your suggestions. We shall return.” He then gestured for the group to leave the dungeon and return to more comfortable surroundings, where they could discuss things more freely, without fear of Aquila’s gaining too much of an advantage.
[Assuming the others are amenable…]
“Fenella, I understand your desire to help the dragon but I don’t think our two options are all that separate. If we agree that Rezmir is also a target, well,” the monk shrugged, “he will also be the one who knows where the egg is being held. Either way, I fear we must extend the Purple Lady at least a bit of trust and follow her suggestion to gain access to the camp and its leader.”
Brother Roc looked at the others, his expression a conflicting combination of resignation and thoughtful potential. It seemed a long shot, but if they could pull it off all their troubles might be dealt with at once.
Nodding at Brother Roc’s word, Jefaris added word to his gesture. “I agree. It seems that if task to deal with the dragon forces us to follow the path the Purple Lady has laid out before us. It may still be a trap, engineered by Rezmir, however…” he hesitated, sighing briefly before continuing.
“As much as I would like to incinerate her on the spot, I sensed no over deception on the part of the Doormat. Her desire to betray Rezmir was genuine,” he stated firmly and without hesitation. “ I will admit she held things back and did not tell us the whole truth,” he added, knowing that his companions must be skeptical at his resolute tone. “She shared just enough to satisfy her needs as well as appeal to our own problems. My gut tells me her desire to betray is driven by her need to replace. We may find that we trade one evil for another. Or if we don’t take that risk we may find ourselves incinerated by a dragon.”
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