The Quest
Gravelly
footsteps echoed quietly through the soft, night air, mixing with the sounds of
the crickets merrily chirping away. She
was in no particular hurry, despite the late hour and looming trees of the
darkened forest. The Elven tree-town of Zantra was a mere few miles away and
Antha, the human city and her true destination, only a mile more beyond
that.
Coyote-like howls cut the peaceful night in twain, the
night birds silencing immediately.
Callista drew her Elven bow and notched one of her arrows in the space
of a single heartbeat. The canine
mumblings ambled closer. Kobolds, from
the smell of them, at least a half dozen of the vermin. Crouching down in the correct stance, her
night vision searching the blackness for movement, Callista listened intently.
She
did not have long to wait. One
slobbering, mangy beast leapt at her from the right, sharp teeth bared. Before even knowing what had hit it, the
kobold lay dead on the ground, an arrow rapidly fired through its heart. More snarling noises redirected Callista's
attention. With the speed of a seasoned
warrior, she switched weapons from her bow to her short sword, knowing that its
sharp blade would be more effective at this close range. Blasted scavengers... she thought in
irritation.
Two
more came at her, perhaps thinking that some form of group attack would
succeed. The small, but strong and
quick elf cut them down in no time quite literally. Three more were pacing nearby, aggression and hunger clear in
their beady, black eyes, but the sight of their fallen predecessors keeping
them momentarily at bay. Impatient and
eager to rid herself of the annoying creatures, Callista cried out a modified
war cry in her native Elven and charged them, swinging her sword like
berserking paladin. Another hairy
kobold fell victim to the blade and the other two were smart enough to turn
tail and run for their lives.
Eyes
narrowed in anger, Callista stared after them, satisfied that she had
sufficiently warned them never to attack an armed elf again. Looking down, she vengefully kicked one of
the kobolds' body aside, passingly wondering if they had anything of value on
their smelly hides. Shrugging
indifferently, she bent to check.
Nothing much. One, the leader
apparently, had a small pouch looped about its neck, containing three silver
pieces and a single gold. Not exactly a
windfall, but money was money in her traveling world, Callista figured as she
dropped the coins securely in her waist pouch.
Pausing
to wipe the smears of blood off of her sword and to retrieve her arrow, she
continued on her way, kicking at the small stones she encountered. One of the last places she wanted to go was
her hometown of Zantra. However, the
only intelligent path to Antha went right through the heart of it and by the
time she arrived at the gates, it would be past dawn. Most everyone in the village would be awake and about by
then. With any luck, she could get
through without too many inconveniences.
* * * * *
The
guards at Antha's main gate stared as the figure in black approached. The fellow was not imposing by virtue of
strength or size by any stretch of the imagination; for he barely made five and
a half feet in height and was of slender build. But it was fairly obvious to all who saw him, that he was very
powerful in quite a different way. Clad
in a austere, robe of some luxurious black cloth and carrying a golden staff
with several precious stones encrusting the head, this physically unimposing
elf was indisputably a mage of some great ranking.
"Hail,
stranger." the guard on duty called out, halting the elf.
He
turned, fixing the guard with a piercing stare from his glinting gold eyes, the
lone bit of color on his person besides the staff, for even his hair was pure
white against the almost vampiric pallor of his skin. The guard shivered in fright, acutely aware that the mage was
apparently not in the mood to be bothered.
"Might
I direct you to your destination, sir?" he quavered, trying to steady his
voice.
The
mage did not answer for what seemed like an eternity, then spoke in a
condescending tone, like that of a lord giving orders to a lowly servant.
"The
mage Ganymede."
"Ganymede?"
the guard repeated, embarrassed at his imbecilic response. "He lives in the center of town... next
to the Fire Guild. Just head down this
street and take a left at Rat and Parrot Tavern. Then turn right at Town Hall and another left at the Morning Star
Inn. You'll run right into it."
Without
a single word of thanks or response whatsoever, the mage took his leave,
heading in that precise direction, his robes differentiating him from the rest
of the town in their darkness. With
great relief, the guard swiped the back of his hand over his brow, finding it
all but drenched in sweat.
In
front of Town Hall, a small crowd of ragged children was gathered in a circle
watching some form of street performer.
In something of a hurry, Soryn intended to ignore it, but a nagging
sensation at the back of his head made him turn to look more closely. There were eight children, all dirty and
much the worse for a good meal, but they were delighted by the performer's
antics. As he looked up, Soryn felt the
unfamiliar emotion of surprise.
The
creature they watched so happily appeared to be an elf! She was small, even by Elven standards and
had pale, cream-colored skin with long, golden-brown hair and green eyes. Finding an elf in a human town was not as
much a shock to Soryn as her ensemble and her current activity. Her outfit would've been more suited to a
mercenary courtesan, a mixture of bare skin and chain mail armor. Her tunic was of polished links of silver,
fashioned to cover her torso while leaving her arms and legs bare. Oddly, the metal still clung to her like a
second skin, accentuating her full breasts and flat stomach, the flair of her
hips and enticing curves. The shirt
underneath it was completely obscured except for the billowy sleeves of green
that left her shoulders naked. The belt
at her waist held a green jewel with some design scratched into it. Brown hose and black boots completed the
outfit. To entertain the children, she
was juggling several small, clay balls which were cheaply painted in bright
hues of red, orange, and yellow and singing a light-hearted song in human
language.
His
eyes narrowed critically at her as she finished the song and expertly caught
the balls deftly in a burlap sack with grand flourish, bowing as the children
burst into applause.
"Okay,
kids... that's enough. Time for you all
to run along home." she smiled at them, herding them past Soryn despite
several young protests. "I'll be
back in the same spot tomorrow, I promise."
The
children dispersed in all different directions, leaving only one tiny girl
behind, who stared at Soryn with wide blue eyes as she sucked on her
thumb. The performer, turned to follow
the little girl's line of sight, her gaze resting on Soryn for a second before
she turned back.
"Janua,
it's almost dinnertime. I'm sure that
your mother's looking for you." she prodded the child along. Once Janua was safely on her way, she turned
to Soryn with fire in her bright green eyes.
"Is
there any particular reason why you insist on hanging about, frightening
innocent children?" she demanded, stopping to stand directly in front of
him. "Do you have nothing better
to do?"
"I'm
afraid I must disagree, girl. I am not
frightening anyone. And I'm sure that
anyone breathing has better things to do than watch your sophomoric
performance." Soryn replied with scathing sarcasm.
"How
dare you criticize my talents when you have not even seen them yet?" she
asked angrily, her voice rising both in volume and pitch.
"Oh,
do stop your squawking. I have no time
for idiot half-elves who fancy themselves to be human gutter trash. I'm sure you have a street corner you need
to stand on somewhere, so I will ask politely for you to please remove yourself
from my path." he sighed in complacent irritation.
"I
will not!" she countered, standing firm.
"I am not a half-elf, I am a whole elf, for your information. And I am not gutter trash! Nor do I stand on street corners! Don't you think for one second that I don't
know what you were implying!"
"Well,
you certainly do not act like a proper elf.
No self-respecting elf would mingle so freely with lowly humans. And your clothes speak differently of your
so-called talents." Soryn eyed her tight clothes meaningfully.
"I
happen to be a minstrel of sorts. What
are you supposed to be anyway? A dark
knight in search of fame and fortune and a damsel to kidnap?" she fired
back, grabbing at the sleeve of his robe to indicate the black color.
"What
I think I am is none of your concern, elfling." was his only response in
addition to snatching his sleeve away from her hand.
"You
arrogant bastard!" she yelled, raising her hand to slap him. In the blink of an eye, he was gone and her
hand swished through nothing but air, the force turning her in a complete and
rather clumsy circle.
"Wha-?"
she looked around in confusion, searching for him. "A mage?" she mused thoughtfully, looking at where her
hand had struck air. "An Elven
mage? Here?"
* * * * *
From
a distance away and leaning on his staff with only a little more weight than
usual, Soryn watched her rise and gather her things in a great hurry. No matter what he'd said about the
possibility of her being a prostitute, he had to admit to himself that she
could make a good living that way, what with her beauty.
Even
among Elven standards, she was a lovely female of their race, with her delicate
features, large eyes, and slender limbs.
However, no matter how her beauty shone, she was too human in her ways,
too rambunctious. Her talent of
speaking the human language without a trace of an Elven accent reinforced his
notion that she was either half human or had been raised among them. The nymph probably didn't even speak Elven,
for their entire conversation had been in human.
"Such
a pity." he murmured to himself as he continued on his way to the mage,
Ganymede.
* * * * *
"You're
searching for what?" Ganymede sputtered, nearly choking on his tea, which
clearly didn't impress his Elven visitor.
Soryn
sighed. "The Scroll of
Redwyn. Surely you know where it
is." he prompted, quite plainly annoyed at the old human.
"Of
course I know where it is." Ganymede recovered quickly, put off by the
Grey Elf's arrogance and condescending attitude. "It's here."
"The
scroll is here?" Soryn repeated, thanking his god that he wouldn't have to
go tramping all over the lands to find it.
"Indeed...
but it won't do you any good without the stones." Ganymede nodded,
withdrawing a battered, yellowed scroll of paper from the scores upon his
shelves and handing it to Soryn.
"Stones?"
Soryn questioned to himself, reading the scroll in record time. "The Eye of Custos and Canmore's
Heart... where would I find these?"
The
mage laughed slightly. "Thought you were getting off easy, did you? The Eye of Custos is to the west of here,
many miles past Zantra, almost to the sea... in the Mesheld Forest. Canmore's Heart is even further away, but to
the north, somewhere in the Red Dragon Caverns."
If
Soryn were tan enough to pale, he would have, however as things were, the only
outward sign of his distress was a momentary closing of his amber eyes. He hadn't planned on a tour of the entire
realm... hadn't even planned on having to travel in completely different
directions in order to find artifacts for this most important spell.
"How
do I get to these places?" he finally asked.
"Well,
directions to either location are sketchy at best and there are no known maps
through the Red Dragon Caverns. I would
suggest hiring yourself a guide of sorts to help you along." Ganymede said
thoughtfully. "Not to offend at
all, but you don't look like the most traveled elf of the world. Besides, it's fairly common knowledge that
Grey Elves are not the most adventurous.
There are a thousand dangers out there; bandits, kobolds, ghouls,
liches, goblins, wolves, not to mention Phantom Cliff."
"Phantom
Cliff?" Soryn repeated, not at all liking the sound of this.
"It's
on the way to Mesheld Forest and is a virtual hive of the undead. You'll need someone who can serve as both
guide, diplomat, company, and a bit of a fighter." he stopped to think for
a moment, his face lighting up with revelation. "I know just the person!"
The
door downstairs opened and slammed shut loudly, interrupting Ganymede's
idea. The quick tapping of boots on the
stairs followed quickly.
"Ganymede!"
a female voice shouted vibrantly.
"You'll never guess what I ran into today!"
Soryn
was once again surprised to see the same minstrel elf he'd had the run-in with
earlier. She had apparently recovered from that exchange and was back to her
old tricks.
"Ah,
Callie!" Ganymede smiled at her fondly.
"I was just thinking of you."
Soryn
sent the old man a look of disdain. No,
no surely not. Not this obnoxious,
loud-mouthed, foolish ,pathetic excuse for even a half-elf.
"There's a
mage here in town... an Elven mage!
Grey Elf, I think. Anyway, he
saw me performing for the children and picked a fight with me! Can you believe it! I heard that Greys were arrogant and pompous
individuals, but-" she stopped as she turned and noticed Soryn for the
first time.
"What's
he doing here?" she demanded, pointing at him as if he were a
particularly large and hideous specimen of spider.
"You've
met, I see... well..." Ganymede immediately sensed the slight hostility
between the two elves. "Callista,
this is Soryn... a gray elf mage indeed.
He's in need of a guide and companion for his upcoming journeys to
Mesheld and the Red Dragon Caverns... I thought you might be of
assistance. Soryn, this is
Callista. She is from Zantra, the High
Elf community nearby. She would be a great help to you as she has been
traveling much of the realm since her Passage into Adulthood."
"I
have no need of a courtesan, thank you." Soryn muttered, eyes narrowing at
her evenly.
Her
eyes narrowed as well, their green depths would've spit fire if they
could. "I beg your pardon, sir."
she hissed, accenting the sir sarcastically. "I have said before that I am
a minstrel, a bard."
He
gave her his best "I'm not in the least bit impressed" look, which
was pretty good. She stood her ground, staring at him as though he were no more
than a stubborn horse. If there was one
thing that truly annoyed Soryn it was the presence of an insolent, obstinate
elfling who refused to bow to his superior will.
Ganymede
coughed to break the powerful animosity that was building between the two
elves. "You two might as well get
used to the idea. It's the only
solution I can see."
"Why
should I waste my time and talent on this arrogant ass?" Callista sneered,
turning on her heel to approach Ganymede's cluttered desk and sitting in the
chair. "He obviously doesn't like
me... and I'd simply go mad having to spend every waking moment with His Royal
Highness over there. We're completely
incompatible." she continued, taking out her short sword and proceeding to
sharpen the blade with some whetstone from a pouch at her waist.
"Callie,
how many times have you complained of never having anything exciting to
do?" Ganymede sighed. "You
wanted an adventure and one has fallen right into your lap."
"Let
me think about it." she shrugged.
"Wonderful. Once you've come to and made your decision,
come find me." Soryn muttered, crossing the room and heading down the
stairs without a word of good-bye.
Insolent,
stubborn, foolish little moron! he thought to himself none too
charitably. However, no mater what he
told himself, he knew Ganymede to be right.
He would rather spend this journey with an annoying elf than any
human... and she would prove useful. If
her gear was any indication, she knew how to use both sword and bow, which
would save him the magic of defending any creatures off himself. Despite her small stature, she was probably a
strong little thing, both in body and will.
And, if the old human were to be believed, she knew most of the realm
inside-out and upside-down. He couldn't
possibly find a better guide through this quest.
Well,
Soryn... you'd better hope she's less rambunctious on the road... but somehow I
doubt it. I am in for a fascinating
trek.
* * * * *
"Blast
it!" Soryn exhaled aloud as he slammed the door to his quarters in the
Fire Guild shut. He'd spent the entire
day searching for another suitable guide for his quest. Not only were elves rather scarce in the
immediate area, those that were present had no where near the skills he would
need. Any humans he asked about Elven
guides said one of two things; either a prompt "I don't know" or a
smiling "talk to Callista".
With
an exasperated sigh, he sat wearily at the desk and opened the book he'd taken
from the guild's library. Luckily, even
though his search for a guide was becoming quite tiresome, he'd found a more
than adequate amount of information on the two gems he needed, including the
exact location for one of them and a definite narrow-down of the other.
A
knock at the door interrupted his reading and he groaned discreetly in
annoyance.
"Who
is it?" he demanded, an irritated tone in his voice.
"It's
Callista." came the girl's cheerful reply.
"Come
in." Soryn admitted defeat to himself.
"The door's open."
"Good
evening." she greeted him in a friendly, but somewhat guarded manner,
perhaps aware that he was in a foul mood.
"To
you as well." he replied evenly, doing his best to remain polite if not
exactly affectionate at any rate. The
last thing he needed was to insult the one elf within a hundred miles who could
help him.
"Listen,
I've been thinking." she started, walking over to his desk and having to
audacity to sit on its polished surface.
"Oh?"
he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes. I apologize for my words yesterday if you
apologize for yours. After all, neither
of us knows the other to any degree yet… and it's always wrong to judge a book
by its cover." she explained.
"Hmm…
I suppose." he shrugged slightly.
"And
I'd like to help you out if you still need me.
I've already mapped out the most direct and easiest route to both
locations." she volunteered, pulling some scrolls out of her cloak.
"Did
you?" he asked, interested now.
"What language is that?" he drew back when he failed to
recognize the strange scrawlings on the parchment.
"That? It's Gnomish. Their language lacks most synonyms, but I find it useful for
writing quick notes." she shrugged herself, apparently unconcerned. "Do you still want me as your guide or
what?"
He
paused a moment, although he could not read the writing on the map, he was
certain that it was accurate when compared to his own… and probably more
so. "Yes." he said at
last. "What will you claim as your
fee?"
"Hmm…
good question." she nodded, scratching behind her ear in thought. "Does five silvers a day sound like a
reasonable sum?" she decided.
"Indeed…
although I have no idea what is customary." he nodded, relieved that the
price seemed obscenely low to him.
"What do you plan on doing within that sum?"
"Lead,
of course… find lodgings at night, find and gather food if necessary, pitch
tents, start fires, and keep you out of trouble naturally." she smiled.
"Trouble?"
he raised an eyebrow yet again, which Callista was starting to find rather
endearing. "What sort of trouble
can you protect me from?"
"All
sorts of things. We aren't exactly
traveling on country roads on this journey.
We're likely to encounter some nasty creatures; kobolds, wolves, bears,
goblins, hobgoblins, ogres, orcs, and of course there's always the undead to
contend with… especially throughout Phantom's Cliff." she slipped down off
of the desk and proceeded to pace slowly across the room.
"So
I have heard. In that case, I will have
some great need of you." Soryn admitted with a rare gesture of
self-depreciation.
"Great! When do you want to leave?" she decided
to get down to business quickly, for his even stare was beginning to unnerve
her.
"You
are the adventurer… you tell me." he replied.
"I
say we leave at first light in the morning.
Meet me at the Rat and Parrot Inn and bring only what you need to
survive. Leave all of the heavy books
and things that have nothing to do with the items we're looking for. Everything will be much easier and faster if
we travel extremely light.
Agreed?" she said, extending a hand in his direction.
"Agreed."
he took her hand briefly for the traditional shake of contract.
Callista's
heart jumped at the moment of contact and forgot to avoid his eyes. Gold… and such a shade! They shone like brand new bronze pieces,
momentarily turning her mind to one on several many cups of feywine. Without meaning to, she hastily squeezed his
hand within hers tightly before dropping it as if burned.
"See
you tomorrow. Have a good night."
she said quickly before all but darting out of the room as though the devil
himself were on her tail. Soryn didn't
have time to reply as the door closed shut behind her.
"What
on earth..?" he questioned himself, looking at his hand as if he expected
to find some brand scorched into his pale flesh. Her touch was foreign to him, and yet... for the briefest of
seconds he felt as though that impish, little High Elf was far more than meets
the eye, that she would eventually be more to him than a simple guide.
No...
he pushed such thoughts aside in irritation.
He had no time for any entanglements, romantic or otherwise. And even if were looking for a mate, he
would certainly never choose that childish, indolent, brash, indecently-clad,
human-loving excuse for a half-elf!
Callista
leaned against the doorway to the Fire Guild, hand over her heart in an attempt
to slow its suddenly rapid beating. For
Avanraith's sake, it pounded as though she had just fought off twenty
orcs! What's the matter with you?
she demanded silently. You've been
loved by some of the most passionate, gentle, and tender people in your time,
both elf and human... why on earth are you getting all starry-eyed over some
arrogant, supercilious, condescending, holier-than-thou Grey mage?!
* * * * *
Callista
had to refrain from laughing aloud as she approached the Rat and Parrot Inn,
secretly congratulating herself on being correct about Soryn's lack of
traveling experience. The mage was
waiting for her, nonchalantly leaning against a giant cart with at least a ton
of junk loaded on it. Idiot, she
thought with a shake of her head. There's
no way he's traipsing all of that on a transcontinental journey like this!
What a moron!
"You're
late." he greeted her.
"And
you are overpacked within an inch of both of our lives. Exactly how were you planning on carrying
all of that?" she pointed at the monstrous pile of stuff.
"Horses
of course. You do know how to ride
don't you?"
"I
do. However, we will be traveling over
ground that is entirely unsuitable for horses, let alone carts. We are going through dense forests, narrow
cliffs, and other such rugged terrain.
Take only what you can carry on your own back." Callista explained
impatiently.
Soryn
looked quite taken aback for a split second, obviously surprised that she would
dare take that tone of voice towards him.
The shock was very quickly replaced with blazing anger.
"Don't
you dare presume to treat me like a child, little one!" he roared at her,
eyes all but glowing. "You are no
more than a servant!"
"I
am more than a mere servant, you arrogant bastard!" she thundered back,
her hand instinctively stealing to the dagger sheathed at her belt next to her
short sword. "You'll be dead
before you reach the next town without me along and you know it! Either get rid of all of that unnecessary
stuff or fend for yourself!"
"Strong
words for such a small creature." Soryn grumbled mockingly.
In
the space of a heartbeat she had him pressed against the side of the cart, her
blade just pricking into the tender skin of his exposed neck. Her hard breath heated his face, her face
scant inches away from his as she hissed at him. "Small perhaps, sir... but quick. Do you want to find out exactly how ineffective magic is against
the undead of Phantom Cliff? Or do you
want someone along who uses more than silly spells for defense; who actually
knows how to use a sword and a bow?"
He
struggled only for an instance, quickly realizing that in his cramped position,
she was actually stronger than he. A
trickle of blood ran down the collar of his robe, proof of her deadly severity
as well as her skill. Endeavoring to
show no concern, he narrowed his eyes at her and pushed the little elfling away
with magic rather than strength, sending her stumbling a few paces away.
"Indeed."
he stopped her when she would have lunged at him again. "I will secure someplace to store the
excess. But we cannot do this if we're
going to be at each others throats."
She
straightened slowly, putting the dagger away.
"No... I suppose not." she murmured softly, apparently
slightly remorseful of her actions.
"You do what you must... I'll wait for you inside the Inn."
With
that, she turned on her heel and disappeared through the door of the Rat and
Parrot, leaving Soryn to briefly touch a finger to the tiny wound left on his
neck. The cut was a mere few
centimeters away from his jugular vein and sufficiently deep. Either the girl had no idea what she was
doing... or she knew exactly what she was doing.
* * * * *
O my love's like
a red, red rose
That's newly
sprung in June
O my love's like
the melodie
That's sweetly
played in tune
As fair art
thou, my bonnie lass
So deep in love
am I
And I will love
thee still, my dear
'Til all the
seas go dry
'Til all the
seas go dry, my dear
And the rocks
melt with the sun
I will love thee
still, my dear
While the sands
of life shall run
And fare thee
well, my only love
And fare thee
well a while
And I will come
again my love
Though it were
ten thousand mile
Soryn
stopped dead in his tracks as he entered the Rat and Parrot Inn. Humans of every kind were crowded into the
common room of the inn, their collective attention focused on the form standing
on the center table. There Callista
stood, her eyes far away and her heart poured into the song she sang.
Her voice... he couldn't even begin to ignore or
describe it! It wrapped itself around
his mind and refused to let go, surrounding him in sweet sound. Like the scent of the most intoxicating
perfume, the tempting sound of her voice drew him inexorably towards her.
It
was almost stiflingly hot inside the room (or was that just him?) and Callista
had discarded her cloak. Soryn had been
well aware that she was a beauty even among elves, but now he was exposed to
the full impact of her attributes. Her
outfit was a far cry from the enveloping robes he was used to seeing! It consisted mainly of a tight-fitting tunic
of green with a diving neckline and off, the shoulder sleeves that billowed
like wings. The garment was cinched
sharply at her waist to accent her shapely curves, then fell into a short
skirt-like garment. Skin-tight braies
of plain brown hugged her shapely legs and black boots encased her feet to just
below her knees and folded over to further protect her shins.
Aside
from her revealing clothing, she was still a highly desirable female. Her skin was a pale cream expanse wherever
it showed, with no freckles to be seen anywhere. Her brown hair gleamed golden in the light and flowed over her
back and shoulders like a thick waterfall of satin that he longed to run his
fingers through. Her shape, exhibited
to her advantage by the brief design of her clothes, was slim and lithe but
completely feminine. Long, slender legs
gave way to rounded hips and a trim waist, which in turn led up to the enticing
curve of her full breasts and to her beautiful face with its startling green
eyes, pouting lips, and flushed cheeks.
Soryn
shook his head to clear it, shrugging off the innate desire that surged through
him at the sight of his stirring, little companion and replacing it with dismay
and irritation. How dare she sing and
dance in a tavern for a bunch of leering humans? How dare she display her form in such a lewd way? How dare she embarrass him like this?
Unaware
of Soryn's presence, Callista finished her song amidst much applause from the
crowd and graciously stepped down from her make-shift stage, smiling cheerfully
and almost running smack into her annoyed-looking patron.
"Oh! There you are!" she exclaimed, handing
a leather pouch to a small boy nearby.
"I was wondering how long you were going to be... did you get rid
of most of that stuff?"
"Indeed. What do you think you're doing?" he
asked, indicating the room contemptuously with a sweep of one arm.
"What
all bards do, entertaining." she answered matter-of-factly, her eyes
watching the pouch as it was passed from person to person to collect
coins. "How do you think I manage
to survive in the world?"
"I
expect more decency from someone claiming to be an elf. Singing on a table for such lowly
creatures! Exposing your body in such a
distasteful fashion! It's
sickening!" he thundered at her, turning on his heel to leave the tavern.
Pausing
only to grab her money bag and her cloak back, Callista followed him out onto
the street with an insulted look on her features. "How dare you criticize me?" she demanded. "You, who've never even been in the
real world! You, who has never had to
fend for yourself! I do what I must to
live and enjoy it! I will not be judged
by an arrogant elf such as you, no matter how powerful!"
With
that, she hefted her traveling pack over her shoulders without bothering to
replace her cloak and headed off towards the town's main gate. "Are we doing this blasted journey or
not?" she fired back at him angrily.
Although
highly aggravated by her, Soryn had no choice but to grab his own heavy pack
and trudge after her as fast as he could.
With his luck as it recently was, she was likely to leave him behind in
the humans' town.
"Hurry
up!" she yelled from the guard post, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Must
you bound about everywhere?" he asked rudely once he caught up with her.
"Yes."
she answered succinctly, abruptly walking and all but dragging Soryn after her,
heading westwards to their first destination.
The
Mesheld Forest... and the Phantom's Cliff preceding it.
* * * * *
After
several days on the road with no beasties to bother them at all, Soryn started
to relax a little. The road was
difficult though and they were forced to spend the nights camped out on the
forest floor because of the lack of nearby inns. Having slept every night of his life in a soft bed, the
unyielding ground under a sleeping pallet was very near torture to Soryn. However, he vowed to cope, intent on showing
Callista that he was perfectly capable.
The
little Elven bard was coming in handy, more often than he cared to admit. She built the fires, pitched the tents,
hunted for food, made sure everything was protected when she detected a rain
storm on the way, had an uncanny knack for finding clean streams hidden from
the passerby's eye, and purposely avoided roads known for attacks and
thievery. She only seemed to remain
truly angry with him for an hour or so, perhaps figuring that it was no good to
be mad at the only other speaking person for miles around.
Against
his will, Soryn was forced to admit to himself that he did indeed need the
obstinate creature. She was irritating,
insolent, assuming, and immature... but... he supposed she did have her good
points beyond her usefulness. She was a
very lovely elf indeed, the more time he spent with her the more things he
noticed and tried to ignore; the way her green eyes sparkled when she smiled or
laughed, the way her hips swayed seductively when she was hiking ahead of him,
the way her hair curled gently at the ends, the way her skin gleamed like newly
made cream in the firelight.
On
top of that, when she wasn't being sarcastic at him she was alarmingly
sweet. He was unprepared for the rigors
of travel and she had inadvertently pushed him too hard the first night. In compensation, she suggested a day of rest
at no charge and made sure that he had everything he needed close by, even
sitting with him and telling one of her tales.
Later on he'd managed to give himself a tremendous headache and she'd
prepared a potion of herbs for him to drink which had erased the pain almost
immediately. He'd commented once on how
good her method of cooking rabbit was and from then on, at the first sight of a
rabbit, she would shoot it and cook it exactly to his liking.
He
didn't know what to make of her! She
was the living example of inconsistent consistency! One minute she was yelling at him for lecturing her and the next
she was placing a wreath of flowers on his head like a little girl. She was the only individual he'd ever met
who didn't quail under his intense stare or listen contritely at his lectures. Rather, she met his most piercing gaze head
on and laughed off his attempts to make a proper elf out of her.
Such
a shame, he thought wistfully as he watched her tend to the fifth night's
fire, singing a soft song about a castle above the clouds. Such beauty and talent... wasted on a
brazen little bit of a high elf. If
only she were more dignified and restrained, she would make an astounding Grey
Elf.
"Hungry?"
she asked him, aware of his stare.
"There's still some bread left over from yesterday if you want that
while I go hunt."
"No
thank you." he sighed, food was the last thing on his mind.
"Am
I still going too fast for you?" she asked, crouching down in front of
him.
"Why
would you think that?"
"You've
been very quiet since this afternoon.
Are you feeling well? Getting a
headache again?" she asked, concern plain in her eyes.
"No,
I'm fine. Just go. I need to do some thinking." he said a
tad more sharply than he had intended, slightly chagrined at the brief pain he
saw flit across her features.
"Well,
if you're sure." she shrugged, taking her bow and heading deeper into the
woods.
He
watched her go, confused by the faint twist in his heart caused by the
knowledge that he'd hurt her.
* * * * *
Callista
hurried away, not wanting Soryn to see how his words had hurt her. Despite her attempts to stop her hopelessly
romantic mind, Callista had grown rather fond of the stern mage over the past
few days. There was no better way to
tug on her heartstrings than to be vulnerable and in need of care. Even though he was no lost child or injured
puppy, Soryn was painfully naive about how to survive in the wilderness. He tried to hide it, to be arrogant and macho
so that she would think him invincible.
For some strange reason, that only drew her to him more forcefully, for
he wanted to be seen as the all-powerful mage... yet still needed someone to
take care of him.
He
was impossibly intelligent and intensely skillful with more magic than she'd
ever laid eyes on in her travels. That
almost excused his arrogance, for he was far more clever and wiser than anyone
she'd ever met prior, including Ganymede.
If only he would pull down the walls that were erected around his heart
and learn to laugh once in a while, he would be the most sought-after man in
all Elven society.
His
looks didn't hurt either. Although
fairly average among Elven standards, Callista couldn't help but be attracted
to him. Those golden eyes were
captivating in the way they glinted and shone in any light, almost to the point
of making it look as though they glowed in the dark. He was no slacker either, for he kept up with her rigorous pace
and was unmistakably strong despite the encompassing robes that obscured his
entire form from her sight. His long,
silvery-white hair was a source of fascination for her, for most High Elves had
hair of either gold or brown. It
gleamed constantly in whatever light was available, continually drawing her
attention to it and making her yearn to run her fingers through the silken
strands.
All
in all, she found him to be a very handsome elf. The one time that she'd tried to tell him that, he'd challenged
her taste and sanity in one breath.
Appearance apparently held little value to him, except that he was
regularly berating her for her clothing especially when it was hot and she
decided to forgo her heavy cloak.
Sigh...
much as she hated to admit it... despite his cutting remarks and arrogance...
Callista was steadily falling in love with Soryn.
Struggling
to keep such disastrous thoughts at bay, Callista quietly climbed a thick oak
in order to gain a good vantage point.
Once in a somewhat comfortable position, she leaned her head against the
tree trunk, closing her eyes and listening to the soulful yawning of the wind
through the leaves. The music of
twilight drifted through the air, crickets, cicadas, and owls, rustling leaves,
and whispering winds.
Thanks
to the private symphony that helped minimally in distracting her distressed
heart, she almost didn't notice the rabbit that came into the clearing. However, her sharp ears picked up the sound
of a tiny forepaw cracking a twig and she readied her bow with practiced ease.
Dinner
is about to be served, she thought as she let the arrow fly.
* * * * *
Soryn
looked up as she returned with a freshly killed rabbit over one shoulder. She looked as deep in thought as he, her
eyes downcast and her brow furrowed slightly in concentration.
"That
was quick." he commented, somehow uncomfortable with her being back. He knew he should apologize for being so
harsh to her earlier, but he couldn't bring himself to do so.
"This
place is crawling with wildlife and I'm a skilled huntress. I'm not trying to impress you." she
shrugged in response.
"Callista…"
he began, unsure of what in the world he was going to say.
"Yes?"
she looked up from her task of skinning the rabbit, curiosity in her green
eyes.
"I…
you… how long until we reach the Phantom Cliff?" he stuttered in a most
un-magelike manner.
"Oh,
I'd say a week away at least. Not
looking forward to it?" she asked, overlooking his sudden faltering and
turn her attention to his unease.
"Considering
that many of the undead are resistant to magic, not at all." He sighed,
resting his head in his hand, a gesture of weariness.
"Hmm…
I could teach you a few basics with the sword if you wish." She
volunteered.
"You
only have one sword and I assume you will be using it… what good would that
be?" he pointed out.
"True…
but I do have an extra dagger… I could teach you how to use it as a last resort."
she suggested, fetching said dagger out of her pack and handing it to him. It was a plain blade of silver with a handle
and cross piece of brass in lieu of true gold.
An inscription on the handle bore the name of a Lanur Whispersong
scribed into the metal. This was no new
blade either, for the thing was much the worse for a polish and had probably
been residing in Callista's pack for a long time.
"Whose
name is this?" he asked in a rare moment of curiosity.
"My
father's. He was an archer in Zantra before
he died and a metal smith in town made him this dagger as a gift in return for
saving his young son's life. It's not
especially eye-catching, but I've held onto it for years." she commented
softly, her voice a little higher than usual, as though tightened by strong
emotions.
"What
of your mother?" he asked.
"She's
dead too. The three of us had been
traveling from Zantra to another High Elven city far west and in the middle of
the night, we were attacked by orcs.
They killed both of my parents, but my mother had concealed me in a
covered basket. I was only a baby at
the time and when I was found, I was raised by most of the community in
Zantra." she explained in clipped sentences.
Without
preamble, she took Soryn's hand and placed it around the hilt of the dagger,
positioning his fingers correctly.
"That's the typical fashion of holding it for striking off oncoming
blows and such. To attack, switch it
around so that all of your power is focused forward. And whatever you do, don't drop it."
"Hold…
what is this change of subject?" Soryn questioned, curious as to why she
refused to speak any more of her past.
"Do
you want to learn this or not?" she put her hands on her hips as was her
typical power stance.
"I
do… but I also want to know of my guide's past… credentials, you know." he
came up with a last second excuse for his interest.
She
sighed. "Seems a little late for
that seeing as how I'm already in your hire.
I'm a skilled sword fighter and archer, an excellent tracker, and
experienced traveler. What more do you
need to know?"
He
remained silent for a bit, trying to think of a reason as well.
"I've
lost a parent too." he heard himself say.
"What?"
"My
father… he was killed on a journey to the next Grey Elven city. No one seems to know what killed him or why,
but another part of my journey is to… retrieve his remains from my cousin in
the Grey Cliffs of Gahnia." Soryn wondered why in the world he was telling
her this!
"This
was recent?" she softened towards him, sitting next to him on the log that
served as their bench.
"A
few months perhaps… it's hard to say." he shrugged.
"If
it's any comfort we should be near Gahnia within two or three days." She
offered, briefly resting a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of
compassion. "You'll be able to
mingle with your own for a while before tangling with any undead
critters."
He
sighed, much as he was loathe to admit it, her touch soothed his spirit as no
one else's had in the past. For a brief
moment he felt that maybe there was more than meets the eye to young Callista.
"Indeed."
he agreed, trying to appear unmoved by her touch. Luckily, she had little idea as to what he truly was thinking.
"We'll
leave tomorrow at first light and not stop until we reach Menla… we need to
pick up the pace a bit if we want to make this journey less than a year."
Callista rose suddenly to stoke the fire and check on the simmering rabbit.
"Very
well." He nodded, strangely sorry that she'd moved.
* * * * *
"Hold
still." Callista ordered in a low voice, stopping abruptly a few paces
ahead of Soryn. Like a deer that had
just caught the scent of the hunter, she froze, listening intently to the wind,
her head darting quickly in whatever direction she heard noises from.
"What
is it?" Soryn whispered, taking a few slow steps closer to her, alarmed at
the sudden, eerie silence that engulfed the midnight-darkened forest.
"Shh."
she hushed at him, her hand flailing back to emphasize her command. For once he did as he was told, freezing to
his spot and his golden eyes searching the surrounding trees for signs of
danger.
"Goblins."
she whispered, her voice almost blending in with the breeze. "At least... three goblins... one
hobgoblin... and a dreadwolf."
"Oh
dear. What do you propose we do?"
he tried to sound nonchalant.
"The
wolf or wolves will pick up our scent no matter what we do... then the goblins
will come after us. They don't like
elves very much and we're on what they consider their territory." she
explained, drawing an arrow from her quiver and cocking it in her bow in
preparation.
"Here."
she took something from her boot and thrust it back at him. Surprised, he stared at the dagger in his
hand and then at her in question.
"Just
in case." she added as an explanation.
"I
see." he began to remind her that he was a mage and had no need of
barbaric weapons, but he was cut off by a guttural yell from in front of
Callista.
"Look
out!" Callista cried out, followed by the telltale sound of an arrow
gliding through the air with a high-pitched whistle. A graphic sound of impact indicated that she'd hit her target
dead-on and killed it effectively.
"Careful! There's still more out there!" she
yelled back at him. "Behind
you!"
Soryn
spun around and without even thinking sent three magic missiles at the charging
pair of hobgoblin and dreadwolf. The
blasts hit and killed the hobgoblin instantly, but the wolf paused only
momentarily from losing its rider, then continued to charge Soryn, its yellowed
teeth bared. Weakened from the enregy
lost to magic, Soryn forgot about the dagger in his hand and fell backwards
just as the dreadwolf leapt at him, going in for the kill. Another arrow screamed through the air,
landing directly in the great beast's heart and knocking it to the side, away
from Soryn.
More
guttural mutterings came from both sides, but did not advance in towards the
two elves. Callista rose from her
kneeling position, stumbling over to Soryn, who had managed to sit up then rise
unsteadily to his feet. Behind Callista
lay two dead goblins and another dreadwolf, all fallen from either her arrows
of her sword.
"Don't
worry." she panted, helping Soryn to stay upright. "The rest won't attack... too
cowardly. We're safe now. Are you hurt?"
"No. Just need to gather my strength... magic does
that to me at times." he shook his head, deciding the bruises he was going
to have didn't count as injuries.
"C'mon...
we'd better get going. They've left,
but they may be back with friends... and scavengers will be here to clean up
soon with all the blood in the air." she tugged him along, hurrying for
the twinkles of light beyond the trees.
"What's
that?" he asked, looking ahead as his strength increases.
"That's
Menla... a human town. There's only a
small tavern there and no inn, but I have friends in the Thieves' Guild who'll
help out. Jahik owes me a favor."
she said, pulling her cloak closer about her despite the warm night.
"The
Thieves' Guild? I thought you were a
bard, elfling... or did you lie?" he snorted arrogantly, slightly angry
that she'd had to rescue him from that wolf.
She
turned and glared at him. "No... I
am a bard. But I am a rogue as well and
I happen to have friends who are thieves.
Is that all good with you?"
"Does
it matter?"
"Not
really."
"I
thought not. Lead the way."