Hellrien watched the wharf from behind the cover of trees in the grove surrounding Tinnudir Keep. It was two hours before her arranged meeting with the ferryman, Arfirion. Even though she had shown him the letter from Ranesora and her Sworn Brotherhood insignia it had taken some effort to convince Arfirion to keep her presence in Tinnudir and the nature of her mission from the other Rangers. If the Rangers knew what she had learned in Tham Varan, they would launch a full-scale invasion in Rantost, and Hellrien was sure that would result in Ernil’s escape. No, the fewer people knew about it the better.
Hellrien had stayed in her hiding place behind Tinnudir Keep, and Arfirion had provided her with food and other provisions she had asked for. She had decided to go scouting in Rantost – alone. Arfirion could not ferry her over to the island itself – it was too dangerous - but there was a narrow strip of stony beach in the root of the cliffside between the estates of Tham Habad and Tham Ornen. It was safe to transport a lone traveler there with a boat and it was only a short swim to Rantost from there.
All the time Hellrien had been wary of Ernil’s men locating her hideout. She had slept with her swords in her hands. So far she had not seen anyone but Arfirion. Maybe it wasn’t all that peculiar. Tinnudir Keep was one place the tomb-robbers would not venture to go near.
A quarter of an hour before their arranged meeting Hellrien calmly crossed the path on her way to the wharf. She was carrying her saddle-bags in her left hand. The voluminous cloak completely concealed her two swords. Only an experienced observer could have spotted them. Her bow was not as easy to hide, but bows were fairly common and would not raise suspicions in a patrolling Ranger.
Arfirion saluted her with a smile and a polite greeting.
”The boat is ready for you, Miss Hellrien.”
”Thanks.”
Hellrien stepped into the unsteady rowing boat tied to the pier and dropped her bags in the bottom. It made a splash, as the bottom of the boat was floating in a layer of brown, muddy water. She lit her pipe and pondered whether Ernil’s henchmen were expecting her visit in Rantost. She considered it unlikely. What in the flaming Mordor would she be doing in Rantost? It wasn’t even certain Bill Tripper had recognized her on her second visit, but even if he had, he had no reason to assume she was going to make a visit in Rantost.
She put out her pipe and sat on the thwart. Arfirion jumped in the boat nimbly, released the rope, sat on the thwart in the middle, grabbed the oars and began to maneuver his boat with experienced, steady movements.
Slowly the rowboat glided off the pier and deeper into Lake Evendim. Arfirion took a course towards northwest, towards the vast blue body of water opening in front of Hellrien. The wooden parts of the boat were creaking. That and the sound of oars splashing into the water were like music in Hellrien’s ears. Lake Evendim opened before her, silvery and enticing. Fresh air swept away the putrid reek of Tinnudir. A pair of gulls circled the sky playfully around the boat.
Hellrien squinted her eyes in the sunshine and drew fresh air deep into her lungs. It felt wonderful to get out of her dusty, stuffy hideout in the roof of Tinnudir Keep. She smiled at the sun and let the wind fan her hair. After a while she would dig up some provisions from her bag and eat a little – then she would take a short nap before their arrival.
Hellrien enjoyed every moment of their journey. She purposely forgot about her mission in Rantost. Arfirion wasn’t much of a talker, and that suited Hellrien just fine. The wind rose as the day passed by. Clouds were mustering up into the western sky. It looked like there could be a storm coming.
The sun was about to set behind the mountain ridges when Arfirion parked the boat by the root of the cliffside. The cliffs rose stony and barren from the narrow strip of shore. Wind was blowing from the direction of Rantost, carrying scents of ancient ruins, flowers and other plants.
Hellrien stood in the stern of the boat, watching the island. She could see fairly well-preserved ruins of a large estate far on the northwestern tip of the island and pondered what ordeals would wait for her there. Behind the estate she could see a string of mountains rising majestically against the sky, covered in a bluish haze. Mighty cumuli born of the moistness and lushness of the soil made the view very picturesque.
She felt a presence nearby. Arfirion was standing next to her, waiting. They stood there for a moment in silence, each staring in the direction of Rantost.
”Are you sure you want to go there on your own?” he asked incredulously. ”I still think it would be wiser to inform Calenglad and muster up a force for a proper landing.”
”I’ll be fine”, Hellrien said, sounding more convincing than what she really felt. ”This is the kind of stuff they teach us in the Stronghold. I’ll be careful. I won’t get caught.”
”If you say so. Goodbye, Miss Hellrien. Happy hunting.”
”See you later, Arfirion.”
Hellrien picked up her things and stepped out of the boat. Arfirion sat down on the thwart and started rowing the boat back towards Tinnudir. Hellrien stood there for a long time, watching the boat grow smaller and smaller until it was only a small black speck against the vast blue lake. Then she turned around and started walking northwards along the strip.
Dusk came quickly. Shadows had already turned bluish. Hellrien peered around a corner of a cliff and saw a great beach opening up there. Crumbling walls rose from the sand. It had to be Tham Habad. It was best to avoid the open beach. It was most likely where boats from Rantost would unload their cargo, and heavily guarded at all times. Hellrien retreated back behind the cliffside. The tip of Rantost was very near, only a short swim from where she was at. It was a perfect spot to camp out and wait for the darkness to fall.
She sat down, facing the vast lake. The sun fell behind the mountain range. Stars shone through a thin layer of mist and the air was warm and moist and carried a strange smell of rotting algea, putrid soil and humidity. She took out some provisions and a bottle of brandy from her bag and had an evening meal by the lake. She savored each bite like it was her last.
