![[CER'RIN.GIF]](images/cerrin.gif)
It is raining, and the lingering warmth of Fall is all but gone. It is also getting quite dark. As the rain lashes at you, and the last rays of light leave the sky, you begin to wonder if you'll still be around to see the morning. It's getting quite cold.
Ahhhh. Up ahead. Could it be??? Yes ... a light. Barely visible through this thick night. Struggling, you approach the source of the light. It appears to be a small dwelling, nestled in the low place where two small hills come together. It is constructed of stone and grout with a thatched roof which is obviously in ill repair.
As you get closer to the house, you get an increasing feeling of ... wrongness. The Small hairs on the back of your neck come to attention, and you notice that your grip on your weapon is slippery. You did not even realize that you had drawn it. Not only that, but, unless you are dreadfully mistaken, there is at least one other approaching this place as well. Hmmm. Perhaps that was the sound of yet another unknown person off to your other side. No way to know for certain.
You decide that the promise of shelter is worth even the bad feeling you have concerning the location. Surely, only death can be the result of a night out in this cold, wet nightmare. So, snapping out of your reverie, you begin moving toward the house. You pause a moment to allow the shivering to pass. Then, as you are taking another step forward, a horrible, blood-curdling howl drowns out the constant noise of the rain. The Wind, perhaps??? You would like to think so, but your hackles are telling you otherwise.
It certainly hasn't been an easy journey. Between the Knights of the Pure Faith harassing every traveller on the Highway, and the sudden, terrifying appearance of strange and deadly ... monsters is the only word for them, travel has become almost impossible. And when folk discover that you're a wandering adventurer, well, of course then you end up climbing down their well or whatnot in order to ensure them that there's really not any such thing as a monster. Only, it would seem that there actually are ... now. And what a summer they've made for.
The dratted Magi. They must be the ones responsible. Always tinkering with that which should not be tinkered with. Surely, they have wrought this plague of bestial horrors on Cer'rin. Why, just in the last three or four months, you must've seen enough of them to last a lifetime. Savage, undescribable things which appear from under the ground, out of eld manses, and from the dim recesses of town cemeteries and such.
Thinking back, you realize that some of these new things, at least, are perhaps advantageous. Some members of certain priesthoods, for example, seem able to repel those things which have risen from the dead. And perhaps, just perhaps, magick is returning to the status it purportedly held in times past. Times of Legend. It is, of course, debatable as to whether this would be a good thing or not. But, in any case, thinking back, you realize that all is not necessarily so bleak as it might seem. Indeed, many are the opportunities for those willing to undertake them (as you have seemingly proven yourself to be). That, alongside the recent rumours about the resurfacing of ancient treasures and such could lead one to the conclusion that life in these times could turn out to be quite pleasant, or at least interesting and profitable, after all.
Darius Whitefang pauses in the lee of a large rock. He desperately wants to go and partake of the shelter to be found in the dwelling below, but at the same time he is very leery of the unnatural feeling he seems to have about the place. Finally, he decides to hang back a bit a see if his ears are fooling him about another person being nearby. He fades farther back behind the rock.
Sure enough, there is another figure moving about nearby. Wait. That is a man, his mount, and a pack animal.
Just as Darius spots him, Quentin Reerdon, young lutist extraodrinaire, notices a very faint glint back in the shadows behind a huge rock nearby. He was leading his horse because of the rain and the poor light, and has no trouble dropping the reins and whipping his bow around just as Darius is bringing his own longbow to bear.
The two strangers face off for a moment, rain water dripping into the eyes of both and running down uncomfortably into their armor.
Each sees something of a mirror image of himself. Both have bastard swords strapped on their backs, both are decked out in shiney chain mail (at least until all this water rusts it), and each is looking down the length of a sheaf arrow, which, in each case, is resting against the taut wood of a drawn long bow.
Meanwhile, yet another has happened upon this little drama. Young Viper, dark of both heart and aspect, or perhaps heavy of heart would be a more proper term. Viper is moving through the rain, heading for the small house at the bottom of the cut, and notices the two mail-clad men standing off nearby. So far, neither of them seems to have noticed him, so he decides to see what happens.
The tension grows and grows, as the two fierce warriors struggle to see through all of the water that is dripping from hair, eyebrows, noses, hoods, and the like.
Both men are beginning to tire from holding the bowstrings taught for so long, when one of them says, "Well, I donna reckon you te be th' sarce o' thet godsforsaken scream we just heard. I do no' wish te be shootin ye, and the neme be Darius Whitefang". With which Darius lowers his bow and shakes the soreness out of his arm.
The other says, "Well, I am Quentin, Quentin Reerdon". He lowers his bow, also. "I am a minstrel, and am quite fed up with all of this rain. I wish to find a good place to pitch my tent and hole up in it for the night. You are welcome to join me if you like".
Darius, however, is either incredibly paranoid, or has better hearing than anyone this side of a dog, for he responds by drawing his bow with it pointed away from the area in which he is standing, panning it back and forth, and shouting, "Show yerself, whoever ye are, afore meself and this young Minstrel here start peppering the place with arrows".
Nothing happens for a few minutes, so Darius shouts again, "Come on, now, we mean te check this house down here, and I donna wish to do it with ye at me back".
Quentin has almost decided that he needs to revoke the offer of a shared tent, when low and behold, another emerges from the murk of the rainy night. It is a young Human, who, from the thickness of him, is very stout indeed. He introduces himself as Viper, and tells no more than that. Very mysterious.
The three, at Darius' constant nagging, finally decide to go down and check out the little house.
They all go as stealthily as possible, which isn't really saying much with the exception of Viper. He seems quite able to weave himself into the very fabric of his surroundings and disappear, when he wishes to. The three new companions spread out a bit and try to cautiously look into the windows of the place. Unfortunately, the windows seem to be secured somehow from the inside. After a bit of intense discussion, during which Quentin again tries to convince the other two that they should just go somewhere else, they finally decide to try the door.
It is excruciatingly cold, by this time, and the clothing of the heroes is all stuck to them in VERY uncomfortable ways. They must get into the house and get a fire going soon.
So they apply them selves to the barred door (with much of the application coming from Viper) and make short work of the bar that used to be propped across the other side.
Laying on the other side of the door is a rather gruesome sight. A fully armed and armored man is sprawled face-down in what appears to be a pool of his own blood. And standing just on the other side of him, a tall man-shape draped all about in the remnants of armor is just visible in the soft red glow coming from the remains of the downed warrior's fire.
The man-like thing advances, bringing a huge and deadly-looking two-handed sword to bear.
The tall figure moves toward the doorway, where the three new found companions are standing.
Viper is standing there, trembling and sweating, and is apparently having some trouble breathing. Suddenly, something seems to snap in the young Ranger. He yells out, hefts his axe, and charges in at the stooping creature that is laboriously moving over the fallen figure on the floor. Darius tries desperately to grab the enraged man, but gets only a shredded piece of sleeve for his efforts.
Immediately, Darius shouts, "Goddess, give us the strength to do your will as we go into battle and send this vile thing away from the face of Cer'rin."
Darius and Quentin suddenly feel comforted, as if the coming battle is only a natural thing in the course of events.
Viper dashes across the last few feet separating him from the undead warrior. He brings his axe up, and swings it down: a forceful cut that would have likely cloven his opponent in twain, had it not gone wild. The huge sword in the hands of Viper's opponent immediately comes around in a broad arc, but the abortive swing by Viper took him low and he was untouched by the deadly weapon.
Now, Viper's previous attack has taken him past the monster, where he is quickly reminded of the fallen warrior already there when he trips over the prone form and goes sprawling. His axe flies out of his hand, and he begins scrabbling across the floor after it.
Darius grabs at the large amulet depending from the heavy chain around his neck, and presents it forcefully at the long-dead thing that is so dreadfully close to Viper. "Begone, ye unclean thing, from this world, and do evil no more", he cries out. But the menacing figure has turned to again engage Viper, so does not suffer any ill effects from the priest's invocation.
Quentin has his bow out and at the ready, and sees an opportunity when the thing's back is shown to him. He lets fly, just as the enormous sword finishes its deadly dance, which leaves it buried firmly in Viper. Two arrows, as if under the effects of modern-day electronic guidance, streak out and find a mark within an inch or two of each other in the skull of Viper's slayer.
Viper has just managed to crawl over to where his axe fell and put his hand on the comforting haft of his trusty weapon, when he feels something tug strongly at his right side, then feels an unbelievable amount of wetness. The youngster discovers that he is having a terrible time breathing, and realizes that the "tugging" feeling was, in fact, the huge sword of the skeleton crashing into him. As his eyes begin to glaze, Viper thinks that the fates must indeed be capricious beings to end his life this way. And now, his parents will never be avenged. A last rattling breath shakes the ruined form, and the pale blue eyes that had seen so much pain in the short time they were able to see roll up into the young man's skull, never to see again.
The huge skeleton tries to turn, but as it begins to do so, it stumbles. The thing clings grimly to its unlife, but to no avail, and by the time that Darius Whitefang gets to it with bastard sword upraised, it is toppling to the ground. Age finally claims the old bones that have been denied rest for so long, and they are as dust by the time it hits the floor.
A heavy sigh breaks the silence in the room, as two men release the breath they did not realize they were holding. The only other sound is the rhythmic grinding of the undead warrior's skull rolling in small circles on the stone floor.
"Well, think there're any more of them things around?" Quentin asks Darius. Though he makes the query in a nonchalant manner, there is a slight undercurrent of hysterical panic to his voice. He swallows the huge lump that has steadily been rising up the length of his gullet, and girds himself to enter the room.
As he proceeds into the chamber, Quent surveys the door frame, walls, floor, windows, and ceiling for anything that might seem out of the ordinary. Noticing nothing, he goes on over to the body in the center of the room. Grimacing at the sight of tacky, half-dried blood on his hands and clothing, the minstrel almost misses a vital fact. The man who was on the floor when the three adventurers opened the door is NOT DEAD!!! He is still breathing and apparently the wounds that he has suffered were much more superficial than the amount of crimson fluid on the floor would have led them to believe.
"Darius, quick!!! This man lives." Shouts Quentin. He turns his head and barks "Hurry!!!" when he sees that the other is concentrating on something.
Quickly, Darius crosses to where the downed man lay on the floor. With a bandage here, and a bit of pressure skillfully applied there, he is soon able to judge that this unknown man will definitely live. Seeking to hedge the bet just a bit, Dar puts his right hand to the injured man's brow and emits a sonorous chant in the old tongue. Quentin doesn't understand the words, but he does understand that he sees a long, shallow cut along the outside of the other man's leg close together and almost vanish, as does another nasty cut on his cheek.
At the same time, the mysterious man's back arches, his face distorting in a rictus of shock and surprise. All of his muscles tighten and Quentin has the amusing thought that perhaps there might be some way to read the mysteries of the universe in the patterns made by the cording on a straining man's neck. He smiles slightly at the thought and catalogues it for future consideration.
A few moments later, Aventgar Trueblade opens his eyes, beholding his rescuers. He feels . okay, though he is not precise on the details of what happened in the past half hour or so. Aventgar manages to hoist himself to an erect position, saying "Thanks be to th' two of ye. Tha' beastly thing wa' on me 'afore I knew what wa' what. Tis a kind thing fer ye te be a'fixin me up, an I owe I'da did samewise." The newly awake fellow turns to shake the hands of each of the others in turn, giving a hearty, if a bit strained, smile and warm thanks.
With a great deal of surprise, Darius notices that the young man's armor and other gear bears some markings with which he is somewhat familiar. He comes to a realization. Aventgar is one of the Tandrilii, the Paladins in service of the Kingdom, who are trained by King Ander himself!!! What luck to link up with such a noble companion.
Darius, keeping half a thought free for the conversation of the now-conscious warrior, returns to what was previously tugging at his attention. The Equipment of the skeletal thing which almost did for Aventgar seems to still be intact. He rummages around for a moment and comes to the conclusion quite quickly that most of it is rusted beyond any usefulness, but there is one item that seems most useful. It is also something that he has never seen before. The thing's sword. It is a beautiful piece with a surprisingly polished blade, it's only adornment a wide blood runnel between it's two edges. The pommel and crossguards are of some strong, white metal, and the hilt is securely wrapped with sharkskin and steel wire. Most notably, though, the weapon is almost as long as Darius is tall!!!
Quentin goes about cleaning up a bit, and while he intends to take Viper's cooling body outside, he can't bring himself to open the door again and face the chilling cold and rain that is beyond it. So he takes Viper over to the corner and silently pledges to bury it in the morning. The horses would never fit in here, so he hopes fervently that they will be okay until sunrise. As he stands from the laborsome task of depositing his erstwhile comrade off to the side, he quickly snags a heavy purse dangling from the belt of the man. "Hell, he'll no longer have need of this" thinks the bard. As he turns to return to where the others are sweeping up the dusty remains of the beastly skeleton thing, he notices a slip of paper protruding from within the fallen warrior's tunic.
Still three, the heroes restoke the fire from a nearby cache of wood and prepare some provisions for an evening meal. Talk is light and inconsequential, so as not to remind them of the horrible events of the last little while, and soon all are feeling the soporific effects of a filling, if not exactly tasty meal.
Aventgar, still feeling the ill effects of his ill-fated battle with the skeleton warrior, is snoring fit to make a lumberjack proud, while Quentin is dozing uneasily. He twitches occasionally, muttering incomprehensible sounds and getting an unmistakably greedy grin on his face. Darius has been trying to sleep, but had no success as yet. Something keeps bothering him. He rolls thoughts around and around in his head, trying to pinpoint the discrepancy, but he just keeps getting sleepier, and sleepier, and sleeeeeeeeee........
**KNOCK**KNOCK**KNOCK**
Darius snaps to wakefulness!!! Someone's at the door. A skeleton warrior, with long red hair and full ripe bre...NNOOOOO!!! "Wake the Hell up, man!!!" Darius exhorts himself. Giving his face a quick slap, he rises unsteadily and staggers over to the door, stumbling and falling heavily against it, but managing somehow not to fall.
Regor stands outside in the bitter cold. It is still raining and he is soaked to the skin. The young man knows full well that if he can't get into this little house, he could easily die.
Shivering, the young nobleman raps on the door for a second time. "I just know I saw a light in there as I was approaching", he thinks. "Surely nobody would turn away a traveller on a night like this". Suddenly, the priest hears a noise inside, a shuffling sound accompanied by a loud thump. Then something seems to fall against the door's other side.
Presently, after some clinking noises, the door edges open to reveal a face that is still somewhat puffed and bleary-looking from recent sleep. "Not restful sleep, at that", flits through the cold-numbed mind of Regor. Then, he says aloud, "W-w-well m-met, good s-s-sir. I am R-r-regor, of Camerast, and I am f-f-freezing to d-death. May I c-come in, p-please???"
Darius carefully cracks the door open, and sees a young man standing outside wearing very fine-looking ice incrusted scale mail. In fact, it could be the finest-quality ice incrusted scale that Darius has ever seen. He listens to Young Regor's words through the receding fog of sleep. At the end of the priest's introduction, the priest of Tempus recognizes the priest of Camerast as a probable friend. The clergy of Camerast is usually quite handy to have around. Darius opens the door wide enough to allow the other passage. "Come in, man!!! Donna ye be standin there all day, ye'll let the cold in. BBBRRRRRRR!!!"
In companionship born of a desperate situation, the four men bed back down. Darius is fairly confident that nothing will disturb them this night, but still he tries to keep a watch. Finally, he is overcome by exhaustion, and succumbs to sleep. Darius awakes to the exited shaking of one Quentin Reerdon. Quent is waving a piece of paper around and looking very excited. "Darius, we may be rich!!!"
Darius, feeling more than a little grumpy about being awakened so abruptly, scrubs at his eyes, exclaiming, "Stand still, man. Stop jumping up and down and READ the bloody thing to us!!!"
Quentin sheepishly steps back and raises the scrap of parchment to viewing level. He reads:
"Now do you see why I was so excited?" explodes from Quentin. "This Viper chap is ... uhhh ... well, was, anyway, obviously from a family with some degree of influence and wealth." Quentin looks somewhat embarrassed at having paid such disrespect to the dead.
Regor, having just been listening up to this point, interjects, "Yes, it would seem so, Master Quentin. However, did you happen to note the reference to The Brotherhood? You are Tandrillian. You should know that folk who cross those particular unworthies do not often remain among the living long enough to do so a second time!!! And with talk of death, I am reminded that the young man just outside is in dire need of assistance on his journey into the hereafter. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I will attend to that."
"Hold", calls Darius, "allow me to assist ye, brother. Th' ground is like as not harder'n stone giant cobblers, cold as 'tis."
With that, the two men of the cloth adjourn outside to see to Viper's burial.
Within, Quentin turns from watching the priests leave to see Aventgar, the young Tandrilii, with an almost pained expression on his seamless face. Instinctively, Quent's hand moves to the comfort of a dagger hilt. The youth has certainly been through much, and perhaps his mind has come undone.
The Bard's fears are allayed, however, as Aventgar vents the reason for his distress. "The Slayers." From Trueblade's tongue, the word has far darker meaning than any curse. "A constant plague in the capitol. They carry on their black business with never a care for Law nor King. Quentin, we needs must go to Vellinost and find the one responsible for the murder of Master Glivrend. Please, I beseech you, aid me, and assist me in gaining the the support of Regor and Darius. Please?"
Outside, Darius and Regor find the task of interring Viper to be an extremely unpleasant one. It is still raining, and still quite cold out. The one saving grace is the fact that all of the rain has made the ground quite soft and easy to dig.
"Buuuuurrrr!!!" comes from Darius, "I donna mean ne disrespect te th' dead, brother, but let us be quick about this and not be tooeloquent. I've nary ambition te end up a frozen stiff meself. I donna mind the cold so much if'n I've sommat to do, but I'll nae be out in it, an I donna have te." As he speaks, the burly Priest of the Battle Hag, The Morrigan, rifles the gear in his saddle bags until he finds the spade he needs.
"A moment, Darius, if you please. I've some magick that may help us to unravel the mystery that seems to enshroud this Master Glivrend and his son." And before Darius can argue, Regor is chanting and turning his face heavenward, though the rain beats cruelly upon him and numbs his nose and lips. As the chanting continues, an eerie blue glow surrounds the cleric and the dead subject of his spell.
Regor leans close to the bloated face of Viper and asks, "Viper, where is the vault???" The dead man's face contorts, and a gust of stale air exudes from the swollen, bluish lips, along with a significant amount of water. Viper's dull eyes pivot around toward Regor, as the faintest trace of cognizance returns to them. "V-Vellinost. Silver Lane. The Guilder's Quarter." Comes the gurgling reply. "Good, good, you hear, Darius??? He's answering!!! It's working!!!" Regor turns excitedly to Darius, a gleam of accomplishment in his own, living orbs.
In spite of the discomfort, and the freezing water dripping into his underclothes, Darius catches a wayward strand of the feeling that has seemingly insinuated itself on Regor. "Aye, that it is, lad. Ye're no novice, of that I'm sure. Ask him what blackguard in the city'd have reason to assassinate 'is pa." The younger priest relays the question, feeling the build-up of excitement. "Car'stadh" is the reply. It then appears as if Viper, or his itinerant spirit, intends to further elaborate on the brief answer, when the corpse jerks, then has another, stronger, spasm. At that point, the dead body, soaked through with a night's worth of rain, bursts into a blazing conflagration, from which a small voice can be heard shrieking in what must be horrible pain. Within moments, there is naught but ash left of the young man who was, not so long ago, a healthy, vital young man.
Shocked and appalled by what they have seen, the two men of the cloth are able to do nothing but stare for a moment at the place, now empty, where Viper's shell lay.
"Right, then", says Regor, "let's get back in out of this cold and rain." And the two, feeling closer for the ordeal they just went through, go back in to the warmth of the fire and other companions.
While Darius and Regor busied themselves outdoors, Quentin and Aventgar were inside having a very serious discussion. Quentin, ever curious and never having been to the capitol, has many questions to ask the young Tandrilli. Unfortunately, Aventgar is not native to the city, and has spent his entire time there in training with Ander's paladins. He is, however, able to edify the Bard as to his hatred for the Slyer's Brotherhood. It would seem that the whole purpose of that entity is the sowing of dissention and a variety of illegal activities, including numbers, racketeering, gambling, slavery, and assassination. The antithesis of the Tandrilii.
So, after grilling the other as much as he can, Quent decides that his animals need seeing to, and goes out to attend to them, additionally taking care that all of his possessions are still secure and water-tight in the process.
He is returning just as Darius and Regor are also re-entering the abode. They look shaken, and relate the events of the past few minutes to Quentin and Aventgar. All of the words just come out in one big rush.
"Gods, what do we deal with here???", asks Quentin.
The day has passed, with the fated companions busying themselves with the various and sundry preparations that fighting men and travellers the world over are so familiar with. Now, with evening upon them, and all of the days chores completed, four men again sit huddled about their small fire. Fortunately, the small dwelling they have homesteaded in for the last day or two has become markedly dryer since the cessation of the rain about 15 hours ago.
"I know not what we be dealing with here, but now I'm more sure than ever that I need to be about finding out what it is. Anything that can do what Brother Regor and I just witnessed is too damn powerful to be left unchecked. And besides, we may jus' be able to draw a bit o' profit out o' th' bargain as well." Darius seems to be fairly deep in thought as he is speaking. Frustration marks his craggy face, as he finds himself unable to duplicate the smoke rings blown by Regor. And he is almost out of tabacc. "Seems like a worthy enough quest, and I've naught pressing to do, and loads of time to do it in. I'll be hiein' me te Vellinost come morning, and while I'll no' ask any o' you lot te go with, I'll tell ye that th' company'd be welcome. Wi' any luck, mayhap I kin garner more help on th' way. The Morrigan knows I'll need it!"
While Quentin and Aventgar seem quite interested in these happenings, Regor pipes up first, saying what is apparently on the minds of all present, "I agree with you, Darius. You can count me in." There are murmurs of agreement from the other two. "The gods'- forsaken rain seems to have ceased, at least for the time, so the morning should be a good enough time to go. I shall pray on it this night. I will feel much more at ease with the blessings of Camerast, I think."
All present make a final check of equipment, scrubbing off an errant rust spot here, and tightening the fletchings of an arrow there. In a short time, all are satisfied, and the new-found friends bed down for the night.
Dawn breaks with surprising gentleness over the shallow vale wherein lies a tiny house. Aventgar alone is awake to enjoy the ascent of father sun over the hills east of the dwelling. He quickly reenters, calling for the rest to awaken. For some reason, the young Paladin feels on edge, nervous. "Just the cold", he thinks to himself.
The other three emerge, as if from the womb, stretching, yawning, and generally giving every indication of a good nights' sleep. Meager belongings are secured to mounts, and the quest begins in earnest, the narrow track leading away from the recent resting-place providing a suitable starting point.
"Mwow, tnday snt sbad", mouths Darius, around a sizable chunk of hardtack. "Sun's akchully shinin". He grins, mischievously, and is just going to trot his horse for a bit when a shout rings out from over the hills ahead. The four men quicken their paces, and canter over the crest of a small rise to behold a mounted woman, and a comely one at that, racing toward them, pursued by no less than a dozen liveried soldiers!
Cynthia Fendrell, Lady of the House Fendrell, is practically blind with fear. If twelve armed and mounted pursuers aren't bad enough, her own horse is continually slipping and losing its footing on ground still wet from several days' rain. And all because of a bit of perfume, worth a half crown at most! Life certainly isn't very fair these days.
Still, that fear serves Lady Cynthia well, ensuring that her heels do not stop digging at her beast's side, no matter what. And, at least for the time being, she manages to stay ahead. The gradual rise in the landscape is proving a nuisance, though, as it becomes more and more apparent that her thoroughbred is not so accustomed to hard terrain, and the constabulary slowly gains ground.
Looking around from one of many glances back at the pursuit, the Lady notices that she is just topping this cursed hill. And sees four mounted figures on the other side.
Doubtless surprised by the unexpected sight that greets them, the four travellers still loose no time in executing suitable plans of action. Aventgar and Darius unlimber their various implements of destruction, Darius choosing the blade that so recently ended the life of a young and tragic man. Quentin moves quickly to intercept the defenseless-looking damsel, in order to guide her to safety. And Regor, as he summons the blessing of Camerast, appears to grow in stature and presence. All the while, the four men move apart in order to present their potential enemies with small individual targets.
As our heroes were hoping it would be, the effect of their coordinated efforts is dramatic, and it immediately becomes obvious that these pursuers are not in any way prepared to deal with such organized resistance. So their leader signals that the rest should break off the chase, already formulating an excuse for his failure, even as he wheels his mount to ride back whence he came.
And the four, who have only just begun their journey, find themselves already facing some decisions. Should they tarry to deal with this woman? She appears frightened, but not paralyzed by her ordeal.
Seeing these things, Darius pipes up, "Quent, take the lead o' that harse, and let's be off. I donna like the notion o' that lot changin' thur minds'n' us still bein' 'ere." To which Aventgar adds, "Indeed. 'Twere better for us to put a league or two behind us, and now. Hold on, madam."
Horses are spurred to gallop, and dust flies. Five, now, the group plunges on southward. And the Lady Cynthia is left to wonder if she is better off, or worse.
Accustomed to furtive meetings, even in the midst of bleak, damp wilderness, the two riders approach one another. Amazingly similar of build and visage, if they could pass as brothers, it's only because they are.
"Well, how did things go, brother?" queries Drakken, younger of the two.
"I'm not sure how to answer that." replies Venge, "This thing I did was unlike any other task I have undertaken. I will tell you all the details, but let it wait until we have made the return trip to Vellinost."
"Well, then, let's be off. I have been waiting here far longer than I expected. My hands are starting to itch." says Drakken And with little further conversation, the two Endarni set a course southward, each pulling his cloak more firmly about him, that he will not be so distinctive from the indigenous humans.
Five steeds thunder to a halt, the dampness of the ground stealing away what would normally be a large cloud of dust. Breathlessly, Darius manages to get out, "Now" and a few heavy heaves of air, "I've nae wish ta see any lass bein' chased across the land by a pack o' men...but would ye now be s'kaend as te tell us", and another huge intake of air, "from exactly what is it we rescued ye? Th' lot of em were in uniform, so...what is it ye done???"
"Aye", comes from Aventgar, "I think we'll be needing to know the nature of your problem, if we're to help you with it."
As Quentin and Regor dismount, allowing their horses to get a bit of much-needed rest, the rest take a que from that and do likewise. Food is fetched out all around, and around mouthfuls of soured jerky, the woman manages to speak, "I am the Lady Cynthia Fendrell. I know not in truth why those men pursued me, only that I was in fear for my life." And her stance allows that this is probably all that is forthcoming, at least for the time being. But she seems content enough to continue travelling with the group of men, perhaps because she recognizes the Tandrilli crest on Aventgar's gear.
And so, with little further ado, the five take a break, rest their mounts, and then embark on the next leg of their journey. None of them aware that a piece in the puzzle they seek to unravel is less than a league away.................
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