CHAPTER SIX: THE PASS
It is trying shred the members of our Company-not out of love for the evil ones pursuing them , but simply out of irritation� because they dared to cross it's slopes.
� These last days had been desperate-a running fight-attacked at the pass, and now the Storm seperating everyone.. Jarg's� minions had much to pay for. After the storm she would spend time trying to collect the Company and then make a run across the Tongue River and� head for Arrowwind Abbey. Old Jesse was supposed to be there.Hopefully he had found something that would help them stop the monster Jarg had become.
�� There was yet a part of Guen that wept for the old companion of her Father's house-Jarg had been a Hero of hers as she grew up, and she had worshiped him as all Lord should be. For him to turn so utterly to the Dark.. Shaking herself she thought
� *-This is not a good place to go-he deserves no sympathy-he is not that man now. Girl-you needs steel yourself against those feelings!*
� Focusing ont the now , she mind called Raza, her huge sight hound
� * Raz! See if you can reach Rolf! Maybe we can start gathering together the Company. and continue -if we can get down into the tree line by dark we can find a good camp site and recooperate. *
� Raza lay quiet and gathering her inner self , began an everwidening pattern of mind search, hunting for� the Wolf� and the other members of their Company.
Sand and the scrap of paper were gone. Jesse whitened. A moment later Mira entered. Hesitantly reaching out a elegant hand , she spoke
" Jesse, old Friend, Sand has it's part to play in another place. Ours to help our friends. Bittea's old owl arrived, but a moment ago -The old Woman and two elves stuggle up the Pass behind a Storm that has trapped Guen and the Company.� We need to go see what we can do to help. Let the guardians of all young fools protect and Guide young Sand. He has our love around him, as well."
With that , she drew the shaken old Warrior Priest up the stairs to rescue another set of young heroes.
� "Did you gain any sense of what the parchment contained? "
� Jesse, body language rigid and fiercely grim, growled between clenched teeth-
� " By all the Hells yes-!"
� Whirling on Mira he spat out
� "My noble Friend Jarg, my Friend !, Mira- Found the deepest Spawn of Hell to deal with , and sacrificed� his life -
the memory of my Dear sister, his wife and the lives of his truest friend Reen and Reen's daughter Guen to all this! How can I reconcile this Monster to the man I grew up with-served with? I encouraged his Courtship of my sister-grieved with him when she died- I upheld him when the councilor's at Court believed he had turned-even argued with Reen when he was finally convinced of it that last battle they served together. I could not believe the stories told.
� Now, though, I have seen the proof with my own eyes. It rests on us, Mirage. "
� Weary shoulders wavered a moment , then straightened.
� "On a small group of unlikely misfits-to stop the Power he is becoming. And my role is even harder. As a Priest of the Abbey, it falls on me to attempt to save his soul. When in my heart all I can think of now is annihilating him! God forgive me!!"
� The wracked pain in his voice tore at Mira's spirit-
� A short time later , they moved quietly away� from the Abbey toward the Dragon's Tongue River. A dangerous crossing and then the slopes of the Pass would be in easy reach.
� ** Guen? Raza? Where are you guys? Why doesn't this storm stop? Where is� everyone? **
Kara! Sounding lost and exhausted.
� **Raz!! Do you hear them? Send back.... No! Never mind. Hai'nn, old fellow. Let's go!**
� Guen , the hound and the huge Stallion stood and watched as a river of sand poured from the hide that had protected them. Surprised, Guen saw that the storm which had cost them so dearly in time and pain had ceased and the sun was shining as though naught had happened.
*Guess old Dragon has decided he's hurt us enough this time.*
� Shrugging at the temperament of the Earth, the girl looked around. Heaps and streams of sand covered everything. All along the rocks, the ground. Some of the sand was waist deep in places.� It promised to be difficult for the Stallion, let alone human and company.
� ~Ah well! What's one more barrier?~ Guen thought.� Shaking off the glum mood, Guen started actively looking for the others. Rounding a curve of bluffs and skrees that shifted under their weight, she saw a bubble.
� It looked as if it were floating on top of the sand. Taken aback for a moment, Guen stood stock still. Through a soft mist she could make out the welcome forms of Rolf, Tigra and Kara.
� "But how...."
� Dream Seeing she caught an overwhelming sense of power emanating from Kara.
*That child again! She has no concept of how strong she really is. Raza! We need to defend this one. We must keep her safe, for she has much to offer in the fight against Jarg! How it hurts me to think that such as these may end up giving all, even to the point of dying, to stop the Evil one. These are the finest of young people I know. How can I expose them to..*
Fighting her inner demons, Guen approached the beautiful bubble. It was almost a work of art.
"Trust in Kara to do the right thing!"
� ~The bubble held~ she thought.
� She felt Guens and Razas presence even stronger as she made her way through the pass. The sand was still blowing a fine mist around the bubble making seeing anything at any long distance difficult .
" We are getting closer but its still hard to see." After unwrapping Tigra and Rolf, she threw the skins away. The sand that was blown into the skins faded through the bubbles surface.
� Rolling up a small rise, she spotted Guen and Raza standing by some bluffs. Taking her staff, she steered it over and stopped.
� "Hi there," she yelled out but Guen didn't hear her. The bubble stopped any noise that came in and out. All Guen heard was the wind. Kara spotted a wagon rolling up and watched as Guen turned away from the bubble.
� " Well she must know them, because Raza is not showing any anger towards them. I guess thats a good sign. Now to figure out why she cant hear me."
� Rattled,� Guen, looked at her old friend and the young Elf lad. Finally , just shaking her head , she turned to the bubble and asked Raz to mind speak to Kara.
� ~Humph, plowing is more like it~
through the sand to Guen's side , she remarked to Reen's daughter,
� " I see that scored and abraded hide has become a new fashion these days, Young Miss."
� Bittea glanced up and realized Guen was dealing with more than it appeared, as she saw a mist of sand swirling around a bubble with figures enclosed within-
� "Taken to Collecting bubbles now? "
� Knowing full well how deeply important friendship was to Guen, Bittea tried to lighten the load with her words.
� " Old friend, I have one missing in the storm Warrior , Kirjath. I can gain no sense of him, would you try?"
Worried , she looked to Bittea , whom she knew had more power than it appeared.
� "Nothing Guen. I would say Old Man Dragonback and his Sand Storm has either taken their lives or sent them packing in other directions. You need to gather your Company, such as it remains, and journey on down to meet Jesse and Mirage. "
Catching the sudden glance Guen sent her way, Bittea Grinned.
� "Yes, Girl! You are about to be subjected to bearhugs, lectures and hours of reminiscing from that old man. So best you be getting it together and meet him on the way!"
� Grinning at the the look on Guen's shocked face, she moved off to see that Tal was doing what she told him.
� Feeling a fool , he slowly came to realize that this was how Jarg had been so successful. He was playing on his friends loyalties. Even the King! But now...
� Mira interrupted his beleagured thoughts.
�� "There!"
�� Following the point of her lovely arm, he saw figures outlined high above the dunes. Cautiously , he and Mira wove their way on up the slope's switchback trail.
� "Guen? Hey Silly. Answer me! I know you can see me. Still no answer. Well Lets step out of here and great Guens guests.
� Bending down, she woke Rolf and Tigra up. At first Tigra stired and went back to sleep, but Kira pinched her and she awaoke with a growl. This caused Rolf to awaken and jump up, knocking Kara out of the bubble and onto the sand.
� " Gee thanks guys."
She watched as Tigra stood up and shook her head.
� "Kara? What in gods name is this?"
Tigra reached out to touch the bubble and fell right through it. She landed face first in the sand. Rolf followed her and jumped on her back just as she was getting up. She wend down again and Guen and Kara could hear her cursing.
� ** Opps! Sorry about that Tigra. I slipped.**
� Coming up, spitting up sand Tigra turned her head and smiled.
� "Its ok Rolf. Just watch it next time.
� Kara ran over and gave Guen a big hug.
"God, its good to see you again. I thought we lost you forever."
Pulling her back, she saw the tears in her eyes.
� "Whats wrong?" Looking around she asked "Where is Kirjath? Is he coming?" She watched as Guen dropped her head.
� "Guen? Where is Kirjath?"
She had a strange feeling in her stomach. A feeling of loss...........
����� A rather happy smile was plastered across his face. He'd just returned from Old Man Johnson's - didn't /every/ village have an Old Man of whom they could speak? - and had worked his last day tilling the soil, sowing the seeds, milking the cows, and on the occasion, he even had to rub the Old Man's sweat-perfumed feet. He finally had enough money for It.
���� It. He could pay off what he woed on his farm, pay off what he owed to everyone, and still have enough left over to buy the feed and livestock he needed to make his a full farm. As it were, he owned only a few goats, a cow, and a trio of large horses. They each had a name - and his kids would share those names.
���� Marta, the girl of his dreams, said that until they could get their farm, the animals would be her babies. And so there were Mary and Ann the goats, Bess the cow, and Alexander, Victor, and Johnathen the stallions. Oh, Marta. Had someone asked for God's Own Truth, he couldn't have really said she was a beautiful woman. Her blonde hair, usually mussed with the day's work, fell to just below her shoulders, and was often in three thick braids. She was wide at the shoulders, and wide at the hips, a strong woman with a face that often went back and forth from kind-hearted softness, to kind-hearted wrath. A mother-in-law with good intentions would be an apt description.
���� They'd grown up together. They lived side-by-side as children, playing at each other's homes. The other kids of the village were often with them, but it was well-known Marta was Rolph's, and vice versa. Marta got into more scrapes than Rolph did, when it came to protecting the person that belonged to her. When they played as kids, Rolph remembered every bit, he acted like the hero; big, strong, tough, everything he wanted to be. That's what playing was for. Every now and then, though, he'd get in a scrape, or fall down and cut himself, or any of the other nasty business that comes with childhood. And when he was weak, Marta was there to kiss the boo-boo, pat his head, rub his shoulder, and play the role that Rolph's mother never did - she was too busy drowning in the bottom of a whiskey bottle.
���� His walk was nearing the small farm, and in the distance he could see the brown-white-black plume that arched from the chimney, winding outward and drifting with the same breeze that carried him along. The farm was small, a main domicile with three additional rooms, an outhouse, a barn, and about fifteen acres of land to work. It was his dream.
���� The wind that was his carried the sounds to his ears. The sounds of hell. The voice of god. No, the voice of Marta. Screaming. The sounds of the horses neighing. His pace picked up - no, one could not say that, for as he before wafted like the breeze, he now flew like the wind. His long legs stretched out, the veins along their lengths pumping purple as they propelled him forward, toward his home, his lady, and his dream.
���� The brown plume had grown thicker, had arched across the entirety of the roof, and as Rolph grew closer he could see the shower of sparks erupt as the roof fell in. The horses grew louder, backing away from the cobweb of flames that raced along the side of the barn.�
������ "No! No, no, no!" He said a half dozen times before he realized he'd made a sound at all. He came around the side of the building, racing to keep on his feet as he came 'round the bend, the dirt kicking up beneath his heels, palms growing red as he struck the ground in a moment of imbalance.
���� The north wall of the house blew out, this time accompanied by a shriek - Marta's! - and he went climbing hand-over-fist through the rubble, tossing off cool pieces of wood only to watch a plume of flame erupt in his face, singing the short hairs that made their home on his chin.
���� "Ah, fuck!"
����� Another scream. He knew this one for what it was. He'd served in the army. It wasn't the scream of pain. It was the lone scream of the body - for the mind had already given in to the darkness. He cried for Marta.
[Narrator]
We see Jesse and Mira coming to a halt-setting a swift and through camp, while a weary and battered group wend their way downward to join them.
[Bittea]
After getting the Company moving down the mountain trail toward Jesse, the old
woman slowed to Guen's side.
"Well, Girl, have you an explanation for me? It seems you have gathered a
group of heros for some purpose-care to enlighten me-since I seem to be part
of it?"
Watching Guen squirm gave the crotchety old woman great pleasure. Unequaled on
the trail, she still most dearly longed for the creature comforts of the
hidden Hold she called home.
[Guen]
Haai'n jumped as Guen inadvertantly jerked the reins. Bittea could still make
her feel like a schooling! Gathering her thoughts a moment , she said
" I know we agreed to wait, but while you were in the Outlands, my sources got
word to me that Jarg has moved his timetable up. Bittea-you know he has to be
stopped. I can't just let things happen, Old Crow! He is Evil and he will
change all that we love! The Gods put this group in our Path and gave them the
heart for it. Will you.."
Looking at the old one, she sensed an infinite
weariness in her, but she continued on
"Will you help me? I ask in my Father's
name."
Straightening in the saddle, she added ,br>"and in the name of all that
this creature has destroyed. Help us Bittea-You and Jesse , Mirage-you can do
things unaccounted for-We need you desperately."
With that, the girl stopped ,
but her anxiety projected itself even through her quiet.
[Bittea]
How many times had she heard pleas similar to this one? Ah, well.
" All right , Girl. We will do what we can. Let us join heads with Jesse. I am
asssuming you have already suckered him into this?"
At Guen's guilty nod, Bittea squeezed her legs hard around her old mule's
barrel and moved on down the trail.
[Guen ]
Guen moved on down with Kara and Tigra.
"Had either of you met Bittea before? " she asked.
"When we pause for the night, I will tell you a little of her history. "
Riding beside her friends, Guen caught the whiff of hickory smoke and the rich
odour of deer meat drifting their way.
*Bittea was right! Food for all. Trust Jesse to feed us even on the side of
the worst moutain range this world offers. *
Guen saw Raza with Rolf and called her-Raz looked at her and just gave her a
huge canine grin. Guen sighed , shaking her head.
*Love* .
Just as she was about to make a VERY rude comment, The trees opened onto a
small meadow. Surrounded by trees and hollowing out gently it was a soft
place, especially after the mountian pass.The light was just beginning to
fade, with highlights touching the water in the stream that ran along the edge
of the glade. The coals of the cookfire welcomed them -and there, working
dough in a basin was Jesse.
The dignified Horse master bailed off her War stallion like a youngling and
ran for the old man. Caught up in a bear hug and swung around a dozen times,
she was finally released , after a severe back pounding .
[Jesse]
"So , Niece, how does it feel to have challenged old man Dragon and survived?
Do you know your luck?"
Looking round her company, the ancient man realized that his words were only
too true.
Remembering his manners, he bellowed out
"Get down and stay a while! Foods almost ready -towels and soaps are in the
tent. I think we can even manage clean garments for most. "
[Tigra/Kara]
Following Guen down a well beaten path, they watched as she rode up talked to
the one called Bittea.
" She must know the old woman by the way shes been acting. The boy is a bit
shy, but I think he can take care of himself. "
Kara rode beside Tigra, and
kept glancing over at her.
She watched as Tigra was trying to get some of the sand from her fur. What the
sand left her anyway. She tried shaking and brushing, but nothing seemed to
help. She even tried licking her fur down, but she would spit out a mouth full
of sand every time.
"Yuck! It tastes worse than when it was just blowing in my mouth. I need a
bath." looking over at Kara she smiled and started laughing.
"Whats so funny?" Kara tried to hit her with her staff, but Tigra ducked.
" You should see your face. You look like a racoon with that painted mask of
sand on you." Tigra laughed again and tried to wipe the sand from her face.
"Ow! Quit that! That hurts." She swatted at Tigra again, then she started to
laugh.
Before anyone knew it they were riding side by side, picking bits of sand of
each other and laughing.
Guen rode up after talking with Bittea and asked if they knew her.
Both girls shook there heads no. They were surprized to hear that Guen would
tell them about her later on into the night.
They watched as she rode on ahead and both looked at each other with a puzzled
look. Then they started giggling again.
They stopped when they saw trees opening up onto a small meadow.
Tigra lifted her head up and sniffed the air.
"I smell deer meat cooking, and water running.",br> She spotted movment in the
camp and her stomach growled. She could taste the meat in her mouth and feel
the water washing away all the sand that was inbeaded in her fur and skin. She
kicked the horse to go faster and Kara was close behind.
They both pulled their horses to a quick stop after watching Guen jump off her
war horse and ran towards and older man.
Tigras hair stood on end and she reached for the sword that laid by her side.
She pulled her lips back and gave a soft growl as Guen was being spun around
and around. Her canine teeth showed and her eyes grew narrow.
She settled down a bit when Kara placed a hand on her shoulder.
"She knows the old one Tigra. It must be some strange greeting or ritual of
theirs. I am surprized that she can breath after all that pounding. "
"If he harms her....." Tigra fur fell back smooth, but she still had her
'smile' when the old man called them down of their horses.
"Tigra... Behave" Kara whispered and walked over to the older man. Standing
her staff beside her, she let it go and reached her hand out.
"Hello. I am Kara and this is Tigra. You must be Jesse." It was more a
question than anything.
~So meny new faces~ She thought.
[Jesse]
the old knight looked admiringly at the young one, so calm after such an ordeal. He nodded an acknowledgement as he took her hand.
" Any that stand with guen are welcome in this camp and friends doubly so."
Said with the charm that had melted many a heart at a younger age, he carefully gave her back her hand.
[Kara]
Tigra came over and stood there with her hands crossed. She looked Jesse up
and down, then turned and headed towards the tent.
"You will have to excuse her. Shes a little edgy right now. With everything
that has happened, I guess I can't blame her."
Kara bowed her head, then looked
back up with soft eyes.
"Thank you for your offer. I think I will gather Rolf and Tigra up and take
them to the stream. Maybe after we get some of this sand from our skin we will
be better company."
Kara gave Guen a short smile, then calling Rolf over they made their way to
the tent.
:: Did you see Raza? Poor thing. Shes been wiped around by that storm and shes
raw in places. Can she come too? ::
"Yes of course she can come with us. I dont think Guen would mind. But you can
ask her if it would make you feel better."
As they stepped into the tent, they heard Tigra crying.
"Tigra? Is everything ok?"
Stepping in, she found Tigra on the floor of the
tent. She was sitting and had a hand full of clothes in her hand.
"Tigra?"
Kara placed a hand on her shoulder and Tigra jumped and spun around
with her sword out.
"Leave me alone!"
She held the clothes against her chest and started crying
more. Dropping the blade, she fell to her knees. ,br>
Kara slowly walked over and knelt down in front of her. Taking her hand she
pulled it up and held it to her face.
"Tigra? Whats wrong? You can tell me. Please?"
Tigra looked up into Kara eyes, then she held out the clothes.
"We come into this camp and I feared for our lifes, not knowing if these
people were friends or foe. They offer us food, a place to wash up and clothes
to wear. Yet I sat there and grew angry. I tore into the clothes and ripped a
few into pieces."
"Is that all?" Kara waited for Tigra to catch her breath.
"They were so beautiful. I held them in my hands and felt the detail it took
to make such a fine clothe. Then I ripped them into nothing."
"Why Tigra?" She picked up a piece of torn cloth and ran it through her
fingers.
"I dont know! I just grew angry."
"Your just tired. That and all that sand has irritated you into not thinking
right. It was just a piece of cloth. No one will blame you for that. I
promise."
"Promise? I will pay for the damage to the pieces I ripped up. You will not
tell the others will you?"
"No. I will not say anything. I promise."
:: I can fix this if you wish me too?::
"How are you going to do that?" Kara stood there and scratched her cheek.
:: When I run out, all you have to do is yell at me. Watch and you will under
stand ::
Rolf took the torn shirt and pants between his teeth and ran out of the tent
with Raza right behind him. ,br>
" ROLF! Get back here!!"
Rolf whipped the clothes around and ran around everyone as Raza tried to catch
him. She had a plan too. She was not about to let Rolf have all the fun.
Tigra and Kara stood just in side the tent and laughed. The torn clothes were
being ripped to pieces as Rolf tried to keep them away from Raza without much
luck.
After everything died down, and Rolf stopped to catch his breath, Tigra and
Kara headed to the stream.
"Doesnt that look refreshing? And smell this soap. Its wonderful." Tigra held
the soap up to Karas nose.
"Wonderful. Smells like roses. This is going to feel great. "
After finding a bend in the stream, away from prying eyes, they both undressed
and jumped in. Laying their heads up stream, they let the water wash the sand
from their bodies.
Tigra washed Karas back and then turned so Kara could wash hers.
" A little to the left. Yes! Right there. I swear I am surprized theres any
sand left out there. Most of it is being washed down stream."
" Your healing fast Tigra. Some of the bare spots on your back and shoulders
are healing rather nicely."
They both jumped when Rolf jumped out from the brush. He stopped short of the
stream and slowly started walking up and down the bank.
"What are you doing? Its safe. No Nymphs are here to take you away."
:: Nymphs I can handle. Its those damn fish I dont trust ::
"Fish? Oh thats right. the last camp site. I remember you saying something
about that. If it wasnt for Raza you might have drowned."
Rolf gave Kara a look and then waded up to his chest. Bending down, he took a
drink, all the while watching for Raza.
:: Raza hates the water. I am not sure why though. She will not talk about it.
Would you ask her Tigra?::
Tigra turned and smiled.
"After what you did for me today, I can safely say
that I will. I will let you know what I find out. But first, you need a bath
too."
Tigra jumped and pulled Rolf to her.
If Rolf could blush, he would have.
Before he knew it, he was lathered up with the rose soap and was being
scratched by Tigras nails.
::Hey!! Leave some skin ::
"Oh hush you big baby. Raza will think you smell great after this. Now take a
deep breath and hold it."
Before Rolf could protest the lathering, he was dunked under the water. He
came back up, spitting and sputtering and tried to bite both Tigra and Kara.
He found himself under water once more. Then they let him go.
" See! thats wasnt so bad now was it?"
Tigra took the soap and started washing
her head and face.
:: Let me dunk you and then tell me how it feels. I swear I saw one of those
devil fish smiling at me when I was under water. I am out of here. If and when
Raza gets here, wash her with that soap ::
Rolf walked out of the stream and shook his head, then his body and last his
tail.
::But be careful. Remember! She hates water. So if she bites you, dont come
crying to me::
Both of the girls laughed and splashed until they heard someone coming.
They dove below the water and waited for whoever was coming.
They had no idea it was Raza, looking for Rolf.
They would soon find out why Raza hated water. And she would show them her
true form.
[Raza]
Seeing Rolf go toward water with the two friends, she hesitated.
*Water. Well, at some point I have to make a start, maybe with Rolf there i can..*
Startled at the thought , she realized how deeply she had set Rolf into her mind .
*Damn! Woman get hold of yourself . You will frighten him if he learns the truth. No-the truth must be first. *
Wearily she shook herself , as most hounds would when a decision is reached.
Trotting toward the stream , she heard laughter and crows of delight.
Coming to the edge, she saw the two submerged and Rolf sopping wet, leaving. Taking courage in "hand" she jumped on top of the two friends-it gave her a slight advantage when they surfaced-sputtering!,br>
*Friends-Kara-Tigra. I need to speak to you and Rolf.Rolf wait, please!
I....I ha ve a secret that Guen doesn't know. but that I ....I must share with you. will you keep it from her? I promise that it is naught to harm her-only to protect her.*
Sinking into the water carefully she let it flow around her, carrying the fear away. Not meeting their eyes, she began.....
* I was given to Guen as gift from an Uncle, who was of Valken blood. The are the sea rovers-a tall fair people who live their lives out on huge rafts and the ships they sail, plying their trade wares and hauling frieght across the oceans. The Great house was betrayed from within, by a family friend, one Jarg.
Jarg killed and mutilated many of the Family Wa'Reen. Even tho but a puppy, it caused me fury and ditress to watch. but then he started hurting my Soul Sister, Gueny. I attacked him and tried to rip his throat out. A blow to my head enabled his men to open my jaws, but as the haze wore off I tried to attack again.
A Mage of Jarg's knew the secrets of my Race and told him to drown me. It took four of his guards to submerge me-I finally fainted. They believed me dead, but They were so busy abusing my Sister, that they left off before the chore was done. I woke and went to find Guen-They had thrown her battered body out on the road. I laid on her, trying to warm her, but thought her gone. When night fell , I was in angusih and began howling. Bittea-a family friend, came to the fire that was all left of a GReat House, and found us. She took us to her hidden hold. Now, Guen is healed of much, and I am with her.
But I have one other secret, for Rolf only . Ladies, will you forgive us our privacy.?*
Drawing Rolf aside. she steeled herself. After laying her wet head on his shoulder for a moment, she stepped back.
*Rolf , there are two things you must know.One, I have grown to Love you. This you must hear and know in your heart. Secondly, there is such that will stand between us, and it is almost more than I can bear. Our Race is named Sight Hounds. Most believe it is because we are such powerful hunters by sight. In reality, it is because of our ability to See in the Overworld in our other shape.*
As the wolf's eyes widened, she began to shift. A golden haze slowly swirled and sparkled around her , and the very air took on a honey glow. With a howl of soul deep misery, she changed. The fog subsided as the cry faded and in the place of the hound stood a tall woman, sides torn and raw from the sand storm. Only the eyes held true.
Filled with tears , she could not see as she crouched and held the great wolf.
*I would give my promise of the Afterlife, to be only a hound, Rolf. If it meant we could be together. Never in all my travels have I met one who speaks to my heart as you do. *
Tears of defeat coursed down her cheeks.
[Mirage]
Mira stood back and watched as the group settled and began to find comfort,
Watched as Jesse diffused Kara's concerns,
felt Tigra's bout with her inner self-
gazed on as Bittea took Tal aside and "helped" the youngster to clean up, and saw to the animals,
while Tigra and Kara and the wolf went toward the water.
She saw Raza head that way as well. Reading Raz's intent , she sent support briefly , then withdrew.
Turning she watched as Jesse and Guen renewed their family ties, and then Guen went to clean up and recoup.
"Jesse, what do you think?" the old one asked.
[Jesse]
"They are tired, my Friend, but not done yet. Good food and a warm rest will renew their Spirit to fight. They can rest tonight, then tomorrow we return to the Abbey and continue the battle. We must stop Jarg before the Spring comes!"
The old warrior priest stirred the fire , heating food to feed an army. As Mirage moved off he sighed.
*If only it were another time and place, I would tell her how I feel. But we go to our deaths, I fear, and I will not add to her burdens.*
So he sat by the fire, making fresh lafe to give the others when they returned.
� In his hands rested a small wooden cube, each side lined with runes of a different lost language. He looked on at them with awe. Cambrian did not understand just what the runes meant, for he knew only one of the six lost languages, but he assumed they would all be rough translations, to one extent or another. The side that he understood held a simple enough message;
� Path of redemption winding,
� Darkened lights blinding,
� Let thine soul wander ? it is lost when you begin.
� The half-nude monk understood what it meant, completely. He understood it back then too. The warning did nothing to dissuade him. He did now with purpose, as he had then on accident; his fore- and middle- finger found the two grooves at the top of opposite sides of the cube, and began to run down. His thumbs closed at the side that connected the edges of the first to ? the thumbs closed on a small-engraved dot. As his forefingers stopped at the edges of their grooves, and the middle fingers came down to the edge of the cub, his hands shook in earnest ? they did every time he did this, for� he could feel the connection. The power.
� It wasn?t so much a feeling of being watched, as it was of being desired. As a dog desires the cat caught in the branches, or the hungry man desiring the buck he?s about to land an arrow through. He had something ? or was something ? that another being would delight in devouring. And he knew this. The box shook as well, the thumb-dot glowing a sparkling blue for a fierce second, half-blinding the monk. He knew that would?ve happened, but he did not look away ? as if the masochistic haze that dot left him in was some sort of repentance. The sides of the cube fell apart, striking his lap as if the thin wood was several layers of lead.�
As the cube fell apart, it released that which resided within. The first time he?d done this, there was only one scroll within ? but he?d added one of his own as well.
� .���������� The first was a scroll he feared to ?touch- again, much less read. The parchment, if it was parchment, was of a solid black. More than that, it had it?s own darkness. It wasn?t just dark; it sucked the light around it into a small haze of emotion. Yes, emotion. Cambrian could feel the pure exalting hatred the little scroll held. It was not tied shut, but it would not open without the hands of a living being. The second was a purple vellum scroll, kept shut with a small gold string. He untied it quickly, and grasped the edges to gently unfurl it with a caring he would not have shown a lover.
�������������� The writing within was done in runic, the lettering in a gold-and-silver tempura. It was his journal. He rarely wrote in it, anymore, the last entry being roughly three years ago. It his story of what had happened. Of course it was a story ? he mused to himself ? ?insane? people don?t know the ?real? world.
������������ He began to read.
������������� The night, however, had never gone.
������������� It did not begin there. So let me backtrack ? a week or so previous to that.�
������������� The merchant, I would later learn from the Tower Guard that his name was Randall, had been traveling due east, just three miles past the Abbey. I don?t believe he knew we existed. It was a tiring desert, and most travelers stopped in to get food, water, rest, and the services of the small hostel of whores that reside within the abbey?s grounds. The other monks know of the whores. They must. I think the only reason we haven?t ejected them yet is because so many of our order take advantage of their particular services. Sweet ladies, they are, really. No one here beats them, robs them, or otherwise. The few that actually practice here, are the one?s that love it, or have nowhere else to go. We show them love, in one-way or another. My favorite is Marta, actually. She was the daughter of the mistress of the whores, and one of the monks. None of the people here keep track, so that if someone brings up charges, there is no one to be pointed to as knowing that a certain child belongs to a certain man. And without the wretched scion, there is no proof of crime.��
������������ There is more to speak of, with the whores, with Gerald, but I was discussing the Merchant. Yes, so, the Merchant chose to bypass us. The other brothers did not care ? they said if he was not disturbing us, we had no reason to disturb him. Idiots.
������������� If a caravanserai gets� -this-� deep into the desert, they do not bypass the only bastion of hope for miles around. More importantly, we are the only source of water. We did, after all, build the abbey around an oasis, which still remained as the center of our ?basement? level. So I, and my compatriot of sorts Marcus, set out to join the caravan, if only for a little while. We packed some water and food to trade them, and by evening we?d snuck out.
������������� Don?t let my quick summary deceive you ? sneaking out of the abbey is not easy. You?re likely to be killed by one of the several massive dragons that protect the abbey. And ?that- is to sneak /out/. Sneaking /in/ is infinitely harder. We had to sneak out through the oasis to do it. It?s a simple enough spell to be able to breathe underwater, but a much more difficult one to walk through earth. Luckily, Marcus was able to do the former. We put the ground leaves of the crystalnacht plant into the guard?s food to put them to sleep, and snuck past them. We then used some rudimentary invisibility spells to get our way to the basement. Had we not been monk?s of the abbey, we more than likely would have been stopped by one of the myriad abjurations which layered the individual halls of the abbey. They were all linked to a greater spell, which fed them more power. That, I surmise, I had been done in the purpose of making sure that a single dispelling could not eliminate all our defenses ? a myriad smaller spells instead of one big spell. However, smaller spells are? smaller. And so a single massive spell was used to beef them all up. A dispelling would be attracted to the ?Power? spell, and leave our defenses intact ? to the infinite surprise of an attacker.
������������ So, having found our way into the basement?s depths, there we proceeded to the Oasis. That was simpler to do, as the smell of fresh water drew us like bees to a newly petaled flower. Upon reaching it, we used the Water-breathing and pass-ground spells, and sunk into the depths of the oasis. It led a distance among underwater caverns, though eventually we had to make our way through the actual ground to pass the way we wished out of the abbey. That became trickier, for we had to avoid seven different spells, and do it quickly enough not to choke in the ground. We managed this, more or less, though Marcus fears that we may have activated one of the runic wardings. He believes that they are rigged to silent alarms. I believe that they are set up to kill on touch. We didn?t die, so we?ll never know.
It took us the rest of the night to reach the caravan. The sandstorms had grown fiercer, and the clouds of yellow-white pellets were tearing through clothing to mar flesh. The merchant group put on a fast pace. I had not heard of anyone moving that fast short of a military forced march, and so that became my assumption. These were soldiers.�
����������� We caught them when they finally stopped to rest at dawn. The pale-faced guards, all wearing wickedly-spiked, scythe-curved, armor began to ring the outside of the caravanserai. The merchants, if there were any, had all retired into the inside of the individual wagons. They most probably stopped to sleep. But why stop in day and not in night? Oh, of course, night is cooler. The night was easier to travel for pompous, over-pampered, man-children.
������������� These were no soldiers. There was no kingdom, county, or single smith in the entirety of the world that had created such an armor ? at least it was in none of the Abbey?s books, and that was just as good. Mercenaries? No. Mercenary groups with such outfitting would surely be famous ? or infamous. These were secret troops, then? Perhaps. They did not look to be the elite of the elite. Their stride was shambling. They did not fall, but their stiff manner made me think that they?d collapse at any moment of fatigue or plain clumsiness. They were pale, and most had a few unhealed cuts marring their faces and hands. These looked like truly battered soldiers. But those weapons. That armor. No, that was something to be investigated further.�
������������ Marcus and I circled the caravan, moving with the sun behind us, from hill to hill. We observed them from every angle. It changed nothing. The soldiers had completely encircled the caravan.
������������� I don?t know when we made the decision, but between the two of us, it was unanimous. We?d attack, and destroy the caravan.�
������������ If one asked me, today, what compelled me to destroy them all? I may be able to answer them. The Cube. They wouldn?t understand, but it would be an answer. At the time, all I knew was the hate that bloomed in my mind like the mushrooms across a damp log.�
������������ We guessed that this would be their weakest time, and so we prepared. We had brought our usual trading supplies; clay, food, blasting powder, arrows, cooking utensils, and so on. I, personally, was a master of explosives. I had studied alchemy since my time as a child.�
������������ Our weapons for this raid were simple enough. They did not have amazing killing power, but could stop several men at a time. I beat an amount of the clay into a small sphere, and ripped open the top. Inside was dusted the powder, and a small mound of it at the base, into which was led the fuse. The sphere was then filled with arrowheads and the sharper implements we brought. And all this was dusted a second time, with a heavier coating, of blasting powder. The clay sphere was then sealed, and set aside. We, altogether, put together about twelve of them. Marcus, the better spellcaster of the two of us, began to levitate them over the caravan while I kept them invisible. With a sudden jerk of his body, the twelve flew apart, each at a different cluster of gaurds, while I set a spark to the fuses.�����
������� Minutes later, only four gaurds remained standing, and they were all moving in our direction. I was no master of combat, nor was marcus, but we knew when we had an advantage. We rushed at them, legs pumping with all the strength of our forced practices, and while Marcus made a sand-showering slide towards one of the guard?s kneecaps, I leapt into the air, drawing one foot back to my knee, leaving only one leg extended ? one leg that would connect with a soldier?s jaw.�
������������ Both of our hits connected.
������������ Both resounded with a hollow pop of bone.
������������ Both were followed by our screams as the other two soldiers caught us in bear-hugs, pushing those serrated spikes into us. Cutting apart our flesh, tearing through our lungs, impaling us. Hugging us to death.