Book Two: The Spear of Calling - Chapter One: The Fellowship of the Frostraiders

The sea breeze carried the smell of salt and tar across the docks of Freeport.

Caradawc stood beside Izzy, watching sailors unload crates from a merchant vessel that had recently arrived from Faydwer. Around them merchants shouted prices, dockworkers cursed one another, and gulls wheeled overhead in search of scraps.

It all seemed strangely ordinary for the beginning of a new life.

"You seem disappointed," Izzy observed.

Caradawc grunted.

"I expected something more dramatic."

"You mean dragons?"

"Or at least a prophecy."

Izzy smiled.

"You've been spending too much time with bards."

Before Caradawc could reply, a familiar voice called from behind them.

"I found them."

Both turned to see Cymru striding across the dock.

The Barbarian Beastlord looked much as Caradawc remembered him. Travel dust covered his boots, and the easy confidence in his expression suggested that he already knew exactly where they were going.

"You took your time," said Caradawc.

"I had to make sure they were actually willing to meet you."

"They invited us."

"They invited me," Cymru corrected. "I convinced them to invite you."

Caradawc folded his arms.

"That is not quite the same thing."

"It is close enough."

Izzy laughed softly.

"Lead the way before the two of you start arguing."

Cymru turned and began walking.

The three left the docks behind and headed into the city.

As they walked, Caradawc found himself wondering what sort of people the Frostraiders actually were.

The name alone inspired images of northern warriors battling giants beneath frozen skies.

A fellowship of heroes.

Dragon slayers.

Explorers.

The sort of company a bard might sing about.

Cymru had told him remarkably little.

Perhaps that was deliberate.

The Frostraiders' headquarters lay far from the great centres of either good or evil, somewhere between Firiona Vie and the Dreadlands. It was not a city and it did not belong to any kingdom.

It belonged to the fellowship.

By the time they arrived, Caradawc understood why.

The place had grown far beyond a simple camp.

Buildings surrounded a central hall. There were training grounds, storage sheds, workshops and covered areas where adventurers could prepare for expeditions. Pack animals stood tethered near the supply stores, while members of the fellowship moved constantly between the buildings.

It was a small settlement.

A working one.

And it was strangely diverse.

Barbarians stood beside High Elves.

Ogres spoke with Humans.

Iksar walked through the courtyard without anyone reaching for a weapon.

There were members Caradawc recognised as good.

Others he would have expected to avoid.

Yet here they were, working together.

"This is the Frostraiders?" Caradawc asked.

Cymru grinned.

"Now you understand why I didn't try to explain it."

They entered the main hall.

The first thing Caradawc noticed was the noise.

The second was the smell of food.

The third was the Ogre.

Caradawc stopped dead.

The largest figure in the hall towered above everyone around him.

Broad shoulders.

Immense arms.

Green-grey skin.

An unmistakable Ogre.

But this was not the Ogre that Caradawc had expected to see.

He was not roaring.

He was not drunk.

He was not fighting.

He stood calmly in the middle of the hall while several members of the fellowship spoke with him, apparently seeking his judgement.

Caradawc slowly turned to Cymru.

"You neglected to mention the Ogres."

Cymru winced.

"Ah."

"'Ah'?"

"I wondered when you would notice."

"There are Ogres."

"Yes."

"You failed to mention that."

"Yes."

"You brought me to a fellowship led by an Ogre."

"That is also true."

Caradawc shook his head.

"How could you fail to mention such an important detail?"

Cymru's grin widened.

"Would it have mattered?"

"It might have."

"Exactly."

Izzy rolled her eyes.

"Are we truly doing this?"

Caradawc looked at her.

"You grew up in Erudin."

"And?"

"You did not spend your childhood listening to stories about Ogres."

"No," said Izzy. "I spent my childhood listening to stories about Barbarians."

Caradawc opened his mouth.

Paused.

Closed it again.

Cymru laughed loudly.

"She's got you there."

Before Caradawc could formulate a response, the Ogre began walking toward them.

The hall seemed to part naturally around him.

Not from fear.

From respect.

His movements were calm and measured.

When he reached them, the Ogre studied all three in silence.

Finally he nodded.

"Cymru."

"Pebbles."

The Ogre turned his attention to Caradawc and Izzy.

"So these are the two."

His voice was deep but surprisingly controlled.

"Caradawc."

The barbarian nodded.

"And Izzy."

The cleric inclined her head politely.

Pebbles studied them for a moment longer.

Then he smiled.

"You look disappointed."

Caradawc blinked.

"What?"

"Most people expect something else when they first meet an Ogre."

The hall erupted in laughter.

Even Cymru joined in.

Caradawc felt his ears growing warm.

Pebbles chuckled.

"Do not worry, barbarian. You are hardly the first."

Then his expression became more serious.

"We were not always as you see us now."

Several of the older members of the fellowship grew quiet.

Pebbles folded his arms.

"Long ago the Ogres were among the greatest of all creatures on Norrath. We were strong. Clever. Ambitious."

His eyes darkened.

"And arrogant."

The hall fell silent.

"The gods punished us for it."

Caradawc listened carefully.

"The curse broke much of what we once were. Many accepted their fate."

Pebbles glanced around the room.

"But some did not."

His gaze settled briefly on the other Ogres in the hall.

"Some chose to fight back."

"You can fight a curse?" asked Caradawc.

"You can fight anything."

The answer came from another voice.

Caradawc turned.

A second Ogre stood nearby.

He was bald, his massive head marked by years beneath sun and storm. Two great tusks curved upward from his lower jaw, giving him the appearance of a predator even while standing at ease.

Around his neck hung carved fetishes, spirit charms and weathered tokens gathered from distant lands.

In his hand was a shaman's staff adorned with feathers, bones and carved totems.

A shaman.

His eyes were sharp.

Watchful.

Intelligent.

"Break," said Pebbles.

The Ogre inclined his head.

"Pebbles."

Something passed silently between the two.

Mutual respect.

Perhaps old friendship.

Pebbles gestured toward Caradawc.

"This is the shaman Cymru spoke of."

Break looked him up and down.

The examination was uncomfortable.

Not hostile.

Professional.

Like a hunter evaluating a bow.

Finally he nodded.

"Barbarian."

"Ogre."

One corner of Break's mouth twitched.

"Good. He can identify basic species."

Several nearby members laughed.

Caradawc frowned.

Break seemed entirely unbothered.

Pebbles shook his head.

"You'll have to forgive him. He's been teaching shamans for too long."

"Teaching?" asked Caradawc.

Break looked at him.

"You're a shaman."

"Yes."

"Then you're my responsibility."

Caradawc was not entirely sure how he felt about that.

Break seemed to notice.

Again, the Ogre noticed far too much.

"Do not worry," said Break. "I have trained Barbarians before."

"That is somehow not reassuring."

This time even Break laughed.

---

Cymru eventually led Caradawc and Izzy further into the hall.

"There are some people you should meet."

"Why?"

"Because you're going to spend a lot of time with them."

They crossed into the training yard.

The first Barbarian they encountered was a woman carrying a heavy sword.

Kabuki.

She looked Caradawc over with the same frankness Break had used earlier.

"Another Barbarian."

"Another Warrior," Caradawc replied.

Kabuki smiled.

"Good. You can identify basic species too."

Izzy laughed.

Caradawc looked at her accusingly.

"This seems to be a theme."

"It may be," said Kabuki.

There was something immediately comfortable about her.

She had the bluntness Caradawc associated with Barbarians, but none of the hostility he had expected from strangers.

Kabuki turned towards Izzy.

"And you're the healer?"

"Apparently."

Kabuki looked at Caradawc.

"How do you put up with him?"

Izzy smiled.

"I haven't worked that out yet."

Caradawc frowned.

"I'm standing here."

"We know," said Kabuki.

Izzy laughed.

Something passed between the two women.

The beginning of something Caradawc could not yet name.

Friendship, perhaps.

Kabuki turned back towards the training yard.

"Come on. I'll introduce you to the others."

---

Klober was impossible to miss.

The Berserker was laughing as he sparred with another warrior, apparently enjoying the fight rather more than the person opposing him.

"That's Klober," Kabuki said.

Caradawc watched him for a moment.

"He seems cheerful."

"Usually."

"Usually?"

"Wait until someone tells him the fight is over."

Klober noticed them.

"New Barbarian?"

Caradawc nodded.

"Shaman."

Klober grinned.

"Good. Someone to heal me."

Caradawc looked towards Izzy.

"That's her job."

Klober laughed.

"Then you're going to have to find something else you're good at."

---

Fenixc was next.

She stood near the edge of the training ground with her beast beside her.

The animal watched Caradawc carefully.

Fenixc gave a short whistle.

The beast relaxed.

"Beastlord," Cymru explained.

Caradawc nodded.

Another Barbarian.

Another completely different path.

"How many of us are there?" he asked.

"Enough," said Fenixc.

---

Barnibe was easier to miss.

He appeared from somewhere behind Caradawc without making a sound.

"Rogue," he said.

Caradawc nearly jumped.

Barnibe laughed.

"You'll get used to it."

"I hope so."

"You won't."

Then the Barbarian Rogue disappeared back into the crowd.

---

Finally Caradawc saw Phephe.

She was standing near one of the training areas, preparing something over a small collection of herbs and carved pieces of wood.

Caradawc recognised the tools immediately.

"Another Shaman."

Phephe looked up.

"Another Barbarian first."

Caradawc smiled.

"Fair enough."

Cymru introduced them.

Phephe studied him for a moment.

"How long have you been a Shaman?"

"Long enough."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the answer you're getting."

She laughed.

Caradawc found himself smiling.

There was something easy about talking to her.

No explanation was necessary.

She understood what it was to be a Barbarian.

She understood what it was to be a Shaman.

And, unlike Break, she wasn't examining him to decide whether he was worth teaching.

She was simply talking to him.

"You'll find Break is a good teacher," she said.

Caradawc glanced towards the hall.

"You trust him?"

"With my life."

She paused.

"Eventually you'll understand why."

Caradawc looked at her.

Phephe smiled and returned to her work.

He found himself wondering what she meant.

---

They returned to the main hall.

A woman was arguing with Pebbles over a stack of crates.

Caradawc recognised her immediately from the authority with which she spoke.

Jilibean.

The quartermaster.

"The eastern stores are short again," she said.

Pebbles sighed.

"How short?"

"Short enough that if you send another expedition north, somebody is going hungry."

Pebbles glanced at Caradawc.

"Jilibean."

She looked at him.

"New?"

"Potentially."

"Then he can carry something."

Caradawc stared at her.

Cymru laughed.

Jilibean smiled.

"Welcome to the Frostraiders."

---

A High Elf was standing beside one of the tables, sorting spell components into small containers.

Cymru nodded towards her.

"Fuaim."

She looked up.

Her eyes moved from Cymru to Caradawc.

"Shaman?"

Caradawc nodded.

"Enchanter?"

She smiled.

"Obviously."

Caradawc wasn't sure whether she was joking.

He quickly discovered that Fuaim was not interested in making a formal introduction.

Instead she pointed towards one of the training targets.

"You slow?"

"Yes."

"So do I."

Caradawc frowned.

"You're an Enchanter."

"And you're a Shaman."

"They're different."

"Of course they are."

She closed the container in her hand.

"That's why it works."

Caradawc looked at her.

Fuaim continued.

"On raids, we often go forward together."

"Why?"

"Because the target needs to be prepared before everyone else attacks."

She pointed towards the training ground.

"You slow it."

"I slow it."

"I lower its resistance."

"So do I."

Fuaim smiled.

"And then the warriors have an easier target."

Caradawc thought about it.

"The clerics have less work."

"Exactly."

He glanced towards Izzy.

Fuaim nodded.

"Your spells aren't just about what happens to the enemy."

She looked directly at him.

"They're about what happens to everyone behind you."

Caradawc remembered Break's words.

Strengthen allies.

Weaken enemies.

Preserve the fellowship.

For the first time, he began to understand that those words weren't three separate instructions.

They were one.

---

Later that evening, Pebbles gathered the fellowship in the main hall.

Caradawc stood beside Izzy.

Kabuki was nearby.

Phephe stood further back.

Fuaim was talking quietly with another caster.

Jilibean was still keeping an eye on the supplies.

The hall was crowded with people Caradawc barely knew.

Good and evil.

Ogre and Elf.

Barbarian and Iksar.

Warrior and priest.

Caster and rogue.

Yet nobody seemed concerned about the differences.

Pebbles stood before them.

"The Frostraiders are not a tribe."

His voice carried easily across the hall.

"We are not an army."

He paused.

"And we are not mercenaries."

Several people smiled.

"We are a fellowship."

Caradawc listened.

"Every member has their own path. Their own goals. Their own destiny."

Pebbles looked around the room.

"But when one of us needs help, the others answer."

Caradawc looked around him.

For the first time, the word fellowship seemed more than a name.

It was a promise.

---

The gathering eventually broke apart.

Caradawc found himself alone near the edge of the hall.

Break approached.

"You understand your role?"

Caradawc nodded.

"Strengthen allies."

"Good."

"Weaken enemies."

"Good."

"Preserve the fellowship."

Break studied him.

"Good."

Caradawc waited.

"And tomorrow?"

Break's expression became serious.

"Tomorrow you sail for the Ocean of Tears."

"The Ocean of Tears?"

Break nodded.

"There is an island there."

"Why?"

"If I tell you, you learn nothing."

Caradawc groaned.

"You sound exactly like a Shaman."

"I am a Shaman."

The answer was impossible to argue with.

Break turned to leave.

Then paused.

Without looking back he said:

"Sometimes the spirits test us."

Caradawc frowned.

"And sometimes?"

Break glanced over his shoulder.

"And sometimes they invite us."

Then the Ogre walked away.

Leaving Caradawc alone with questions.

Far more questions than answers.