choose your own adventure, episode 19b

You realize that Gotha has cast a spell upon herself to make the villagers attack you, and you lift Heartwarden and draw upon the power of your bond with the sword, breaking the spell upon Gotha. There is a flash of blue light, Gotha blinks in surprise…and the villagers come to a stop. Hamus, Thomas, Ulacht, Linus, and Richard all look at each other in confusion, and then the confusion changes to fear as they realize what happened.

As they realize that they are facing an urdmordar.

“Oh, very good,” says Gotha, taking a tottering step towards you, the tip of her cane rasping against the earth. “Very clever, indeed. Though you should have let them kill you. It will be far less painful than what is to come.”

“You deceived us!” says Hamus, hefting his axe. “With your lies, your magic, your daughters…”

Gotha smirks. “I think you allowed yourself to be deceived by my daughters.”

“Or your daughters’ venom clouded his thinking,” you say.

Gotha’s pale green eyes flick to you, and you realize that she is starting to look younger. Before she was a crone of a hundred years. Now she looks like a vigorous woman in her sixties, her hair more iron-gray than white, her skin not so loose about her face.

“Clever indeed,” says Gotha. “Though you will regret it. A herd animal shouldn’t be clever. It leads to a more painful death.” Her eyes shifted to Ulacht. “And what of you, orc? Fall down to your knees and worship me, as your ancestors did. Your folk will be spared, and you shall be under my protection. I shall need loyal servants in the great culling to come.”

Ulacht spits on the ground. “No, false goddess. We shall not. Better that we die as free men and enter into paradise, rather than live as your slaves.”

“Very well,” says Gotha. Her eyes turn back to you, and now she looks like a woman in her late forties. “Before the killing begins, Swordbearer…I will grant you a boon.”

“What?” you say.

Now she is in her middle thirties, and looks rather attractive. “A boon. Cleverness deserves a reward.”

“I thought you said,” you say, “that cleverness was a poor quality in a herd animal.”

“Oh, but it is,” says Gotha. Now she looks to be Gwenaelle’s age. “But cleverness still deserves a reward. One secret, you can take with you to your grave.” She smiles, radiantly beautiful. “Because I am clever, too…and I know there is no treasure better and no weapon finer than a secret.”

“What do you mean?” you say, pointing Heartwarden.

Gotha continues to smile, rolling her shoulders as if she were preparing for some heavy lifting.

Or heavy fighting.

“One question, before I kill you all,” Gotha says. “One question I will answer for you…and you can take one secret with you to your grave.” Now she looks like a stunningly beautiful girl of eighteen. “Is that not a compelling thought?”

You frown. This has to be some sort of trap. Or it might well be the sort of twisted game an urdmordar would enjoy.

But she is right that a secret can be a potent weapon.

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