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A faint splash startles you into awareness. In the darkness you can make out the dim outline of a boat heading towards you. ‘Hail the shore,’ a voice whispers out of the darkness.
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You stand, Staff held aloft, ready for combat. ‘Who calls?’ you call into the darkness. There is no answer but soon you are able to discern a tall figure, standing upright in a large, wooden rowing boat. He draws closer and, to your amazement, you find yourself looking upon a giant of a man, perhaps seven or more feet tall with long, flowing hair and skin as black as ebony. You realize that this man is a Masbaté warrior, member of the tribe believed by all to be extinct.
‘I witnessed your struggle with the demons from the shore,’ he says. ‘Come, more are sure to return soon, and in greater numbers. You must come with me. You are not safe on this side of the river.’
You and Tanith clamber aboard the boat and, with strong strokes, the warrior rows you to the other side of the river. There, a great host of Masbaté warriors waits. You can hardly believe your good fortune at this timely rescue or that members of the great Masbaté people still exist. You have only ever known one Masbaté: Samu, a noble and fearless warrior, who accompanied you on your search for the Moonstone. Once he was king of the Masbaté nomads but he thought himself the only survivor of his people. Everyone believed that the Wytch-king, Shasarak, hounded them into extinction, sealing their doom with the unleashing of the demon plague.
‘I am Dioka,’ says the man who has rowed you ashore. ‘I am leader of the warrior band that patrols the banks of the river in the defence of the Masbaté. Who are you?’
You regard the Masbaté host with a joyful expression. ‘Greetings, men of the Masbaté,’ you call, ensuring that all can hear. ‘I am the Wizard, Grey Star, bound upon a quest in the service of the Shianti and sworn to the destruction of the Wytch-king, Shasarak.’
Wide-eyed, the Masbaté regard you with stunned expressions. ‘Can this be?’ Dioka gasps, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘If this is true, then you must tell the king. Will you accompany us to the Kashima Mountains, where we of the Masbaté now dwell?’
You nod your agreement. ‘Then come.’
Soon you are struggling to keep pace with the fleet-footed warriors, heading through the dark shadows of night towards the mountains: the secret lair of the last of a proud and mighty race.
