Rand and Sten's Excellent Adventure

by Aaron D.

PART ONE: In Which Our Heroes Renew Their Acquaintance, And It Is Discovered that One Cannot Attend Certain Social Gatherings If One Does Not Have Wings

"I can't believe you got me kicked out of Coursair!" Rand shouted, trudging alongside the Highlander down the path out of town. The big ex-farmer, ex-carpenter, ex-prize fighter sloughed some of the mud and tar off his fine satin toga (now ruined). "ME! Kicked out of Coursair!"

"Gimme a break," his erstwhile partner muttered, not bothering to even attempt to clean himself. Sten had already given his own outfit up for dead.

"Do you realize how much pull I have in this city?" Rand's rant continued. "ME! Thrown out on my ear! Kicked out of Cour-"

"Wouldja shut it!?" the Highlander yelled, sure that if he heard another "me, kicked out of Coursair," he'd have no option but to forcibly pierce Rand's nose with a tennis racket. "How could I have known she was the Elector's wife?" He put his mouth as close as he could reach towards Rand's ear. "It's not like she was wearing a sign or anything! In fact, she was hardly wearing anything at all!"

"Which is no doubt why you assumed she was a prostitute! Great deduction there, champ!" Rand tried to mop some of the sludge off his face with a muddy rag, discovered it was actually just making him dirtier, then threw it away in disgust. "Just answer me this: why would a whore be more likely to know where Nina is than anyone else?"

"It's part of my method!" Sten protested angrily. "You have to start with one class of people-in this instance, the women of ill repute!"

"Or more properly put, the wives of all the affluent men in town!" Rand retorted. "No wonder they ran us out on a rail!"

"THAT'S IT!" Sten leapt on top of the big man's back, locked his legs around Rand's tree trunk of a neck, then began beating his fists down on the other's torso. Rand's own ham fists began thundering blows back up at the lithe simian, not landing as many punches, but making the ones that did connect count. This scene continued for nigh on a half-hour, when Rand, weakly tossing his fist in the general direction of Sten's head, muttered breathlessly, "Had enough?"

Sten huffed. "Yeah. You?"

Rand grunted, allowing the Highlander to collapse off his back and slump down to the grass. "Good night," Rand said weakly, falling forward on his face and almost instantly into slumber.

The next morning, a thoroughly dirt-encrusted pair of world-saving, destiny-defying heroes slowly, determinedly walked northward and away from the violence, shame, and bad feelings of their most recent trip to Coursair and headed toward Wyndia, the land of their missing friend's birth. "So," Rand began, trying to mend the small rift between Sten and himself by bringing up a new subject, "remind where Nina was last seen again."

"Okay," Sten said amiably. "As I'm sure you know by now, Nina was suffering from some...mental problems, I guess, or at least, that's what I was told." He paused for a moment. "I was never really sure what the cause was."*
(*refer to 'Destiny Defied' for details-ADR)

"Mmm-hmm," Rand prompted.

"So anyway," Sten continued, "Our good friend (and one super-hot babelicious piece of snaketail, if I say so myself), the sorceress Bleu, took it upon herself to cure Princess Nina of her psychological difficulties, and after some complications of some sort*, Bleu says she was able to cure Nina of her malady."
(*see 'Quite Princely'-ADR)

"I see," Rand saw, though in reality, he wasn't sure. "And where does that leave us?"

"Well," Sten explained, "it appears that Nina, um...disappeared after her cure was effected. Once she was aware of the situation, Bleu flew to the TownShip to inform us, but unfortunately, I was the only one present at that particular time period."

"Where's everyone else?" Rand asked.

"I have no idea," Sten confessed. "I was returning from business at the Highfort when Bleu found me. To sum up, she dropped me off at Coursair to find you, and then the...unpleasantness occurred."

"Hmph," said Rand, with no desire to revisit last night's adventures.

It was at this point the two had traversed enough mileage to come upon Lake Wyndia, which, ironically, was not actually connected to the city of Wyndia itself by any concrete means. Sten was the first to suggest a quick bath to make the pair presentable before entering the city might be advisable, and of course Rand, being a sensible Farm Clansman, agreed immediately, cannonballing into the water at his earliest convenience. Sten shielded his eyes from the backsplash and then waded in as well.

Rand was able to salvage his toga for the most part, but Sten's clothing was completely ruined, and thus he had no choice but to attempt to don Rand's spare outfit, as he had none of his own. This resulted in the Highlander drawing quite a few looks from Wyndian soldiers as the two entered the East Tower which connected the Eastlands to the Wyndian continent.

"Nice dress," one of the winged guards commented.

"Shove it," muttered Sten under his breath.

"What was that?"

Sten fluttered his eyes, and simpered in falsetto. "I said, 'how'd you like a go at it, you big strong man?'"

"Forget him," Rand said quickly, dragging Sten away before the soldiers could react, "His mother stepped on his head about thirty times too many when he was a kid." The guard hmmphed noncommittally and resumed his position.

"Don't antagonize armed soldiers, you idiot!" Rand cuffed his friend on the back of the head.

"Cut that out!" Sten replied. "It's not like we couldn't've taken them."

"Yeah, but it doesn't exactly put our best diplomatic foot forward, if you know what I mean." At this point, Sten accidentally bumped into a set of iron bars in front of him, evidently a holding cell.

"There is a legend," creaked the old woman inside the cell, "of a child with Black Wings which shall be born unto the Royal Family..."

"Yeah, yeah," Sten interrupted, "we've heard it all before. Unless you happen to know where that Black-Winged girl is right now, just cram it."

"...and that child shall bring ruin unto all of Wyndia with its..." the old lady droned on.

"That's what I thought," Sten said, backing off and then continuing back in the opposite direction. "I hate these damn tunnels. I always get lost down here."

Rand sighed. "You know, if you'd followed me from the start..."

"Fine, you lead the way."

Rand and Sten managed good time on the way to the exit of the tower, which led directly into Wyndia Castle, although the big man wasn't sure of how warm their welcome would be. As usual, a phalanx of soldiers surrounded the opening, as it was the only way in or out of the city from the east.

"Ah, travelers," Rand recognized the familiar tones of Hina, the Queen of Wyndia. "You are quite welcome in our...oh, it's you." Wow. A lot of malice in that tone.

"Um, Your Majesty..." Rand began, "we were wondering if you had seen your daughter-that is, her Highness, the Princess Nina, lately."

The Queen looked narrowly at the two companions. "As you well know, I have seen neither of my two daughters since the last time you and your compatriots were at our castle. I truly consider them both lost to me, as is my late husband."

Rand flushed. "Well, um, we're pretty sure Nina's alive, but, uh, we don't know where she is right now."

"Pretty sure?" asked the Queen icily.

Sten stepped in for his partner. "Obviously we're somewhat of a bother to Your Majesty. Since you clearly have heard nothing of Nina's whereabouts, we'll happily be on our way." Sten nudged Rand in the ribs and began edging out of Castle Wyndia toward the drawbridge. With stern gazes from both Hina and the enlisted men of Wyndia's air corps following them, the two all but ran out the front gate.

"That was fruitful," remarked the mercenary.

"Right," agreed Rand sarcastically. "So now, of course, our next step is to..."

"Check all the local pubs for information." Sten finished.

"That's not what I was going to-"

"Great idea, Rand. Let's go."

The first bar on Sten's agenda happened to be named, ironically enough, the White Wings. Sten shoved the flapping doors open quickly, strode though, and ordered Rand and himself both a double shot of dragonwater.

"Hey, Sten," Rand began, "you realize it's like, just after noon, right?"

"What's your point?"

Rand shrugged. "None, I guess." He grabbed his glass of dragonwater and tilted it back, swallowing it in one go. "I'll have another, this one on the rocks." Rand looked around the bar, one of the upscale numbers on the Wyndian scene. "Are we actually going to pump anyone for information or-"

"No," Sten told him, "I don't think we'll need to. I think the Queen would have noticed if any rumors about Nina had started in the city, don't you?"

"Yeah, probably."

"So we'll hang out in a few dives this evening, and if we don't hear anything ourselves, we'll move on to Capitan tomorrow morning." Sten took a sip of his dragonwater, savoring it a bit more than Rand had done his first. "Whaddaya think?"

"Sounds good to me," Rand said, sipping his second dragonwater slowly.

The two were perhaps the first in the history of the World to manage to turn a pub crawl into an information-gathering expedition, or at least they thought so. By the time night fell Rand and Sten had visited practically all of Wyndia's taverns, and as they strolled out of the latest one, an odd motion caught Rand's eye.

"Hey," he said, somewhat inebriated, poking Sten on the shoulder, "lookit that." Every so often, a winged silhouette would appear in front of what Rand took to be a lighted window higher up in the city.

The thing one had to realize about Wyndia, however, was since the Wing Clan's city was built high upon both sides of a sheer wedge-shaped cliff, when something was "higher," it was meant literally. Of course, this was mainly due to the Wyndians' ability to fly, and only the lower sections of town were easily accessible to outlanders and even those Wyndian citzens that lacked the ability to fly.

As Rand saw more and more Wyndians entering and exiting from the opening high on the cliff face, he realized that the orifice was in fact not a window at all, but rather a door. "Let's check that out," he said to Sten.

The Highlander shrugged and followed his companion up the steep streets of the capital city until finally they came to an impasse. "We seem to have reached a dead end," Sten commented.

"But we're right here," Rand protested, pointing up at the still-lighted opening. They were, indeed, directly under the door, which appeared to be around two storeys higher than the level at which they were standing. "Listen," he added, cocking his head so as to better hear. Sounds of light conversation and laughter escaped from the opening into the night air. "Sounds like a...another pub!" Rand seemed delighted.

"So how do we get up there?" asked Sten.

"I don't see any stairs."

Sten scratched the top of his head. "Are you sure this bar's not..."

"What?"

"'For flyers only'?" The Highlander raised his eyebrows.

"I don't understand," Rand said.

"What I mean is, maybe we can't get up there because only people with wings are supposed to."

Rand growled. "That just makes me want to go up there even more."

Sten was apprehensive. "Look, pal, I hate to be a Gloomy Gus or whatnot, but if they don't want regular people up there, we might get in trouble if we DO go, you know? I don't think it's a good idea."

"Do you want another drink or not?" Rand asked simply, and then began climbing the sheer rock face with his bare but large hands.

"When you put it that way..." Sten leapt up and followed the big man, quickly overtaking him. He scrambled over the lip of the ledge which led to the possible pub, then offered his hand to his companion, drunkenly helping him into the doorway. As he and Rand walked in, Sten noticed that, indeed, there were few, in fact, none, without wings there. Inwardly cursing, he led the way to the bar, trying to ignore the two dozens stares directed at him.

"Two Armadillo Ales," he told the Wyndian bartender, who looked at them cockeyed, then shrugged and filled two pint glasses with the red liquid. The Highlander looked nervously at the winged people surrounding them. He was going to kill Rand if and when they got out of here.

Rand sipped his beer gently, remembering the days when he used to grow the damned hops they used for the stuff back in Farmland. While the beefy fighter was not usually an angry drunk, the apparent lack of success in his and Sten's search for Nina had left him irritated and grumpy. In fact, he almost wished one of the Wyndian patrons in this particular establishment would start some trouble.

Sten felt a pressure on his right shoulder. "Excuse me." He turned around and faced a group of eight-to-fifteen Wyndians, all looking a bit displeased. "What can I do for you?" he asked politely.

"You can get the hell out of here," the one in front said. "We don't want your kind in here."

"Maybe we'd better go, Rand," Sten told his friend, not noticing the huge grin that spread across the bigger man's lips.

"What kind is that?" Rand questioned calmly, spinning around in his bar stool.

"Look," the Wyndian placated, holding his hands in front of him, his courage seemingly drained, "I know you two are soldiers of the Caliph. You're not welcome here. Even if you had wings."

"What?" Sten asked.

"I don't know what you're doing in our city, but-"

Sten spread his hands. "We're not-

Rand had taken all he could stand. He struck out, smashing his left fist into the leader's gut, then taking out two men on his left with a punch and side kick. Sten sighed and followed his companion into battle, being careful not to break too many glasses or pieces of furniture-this had kept him from being kicked out of hundreds of drinking establishments-and tried to remember his non-lethal forms.

Rand and Sten's screams were in harmony as they were thrown out of the front door and fell down two storeys to the hard stone street. "Feel better now?" Sten asked grumpily.

"Shut up," Rand told him, yelping in pain as he attempted to rise to his feet. "I think it's probably time we went to bed."

"It was 'probably time' for us to go to bed about-hmm, let me see-about just before you decided to climb up that goddamn wall!"

"Don't be such a crybaby," Rand admonished him. "You're still alive, aren't you?"

Sten grumbled the rest of the way to the inn.

"By the way," Rand asked him the next morning as he washed his face, apparently assuming they were still on speaking terms, "who was that Caliph they were talking about, anyway?"

"Kah-LEEF," Sten corrected, "accent on the second syllable. I don't know who 'the' Caliph is, but 'a' Caliph is some sort of rank they use out in Arad."

"Where the Desert Clan lives?"

"Yeah, there. I think it's pretty high up on the ladder-maybe the highest. You see, there was this one campaign the Desert Clan hired our company for. We had been out there anyway after our victory over-"

"Okay, I don't care THAT much," Rand interrupted, drying his face with a towel. "Let's head out."

Rand and Sten headed over to the general store, as the Highlander had suggested it might be advisable (and profitable) to sign on as caravan guards for one of the usual trains of sale goods headed toward Capitan. The caravan master they encountered seemed quite thrilled at the opportunity to hire such skilled warriors, or at least, that was what he said. When he offered the lump sum of 1,500 zenny apiece for their services, Sten eyed him suspiciously and took Rand aside.

"Doesn't that fee seem a little...high to you?" Sten asked. It was only a five-day journey to the other side of the Wyndian continent.

"Yeah," Rand agreed, rubbing his hands together.

"No," Sten disagreed, "what I mean is: What's the catch? Something's gotta be bugging that guy for him to offer that much for just regular caravan guards." Sten pointed at the caravan master, who was grinning broadly at them.

"Maybe there's a shortage," Rand suggested.

"You could be right," said Sten, "but I smell something funny."

"Look," Rand said, groaning, "have you heard of anything odd going on out west?"

"Well, no, but that doesn't mean anything. I haven't been around here for almost two years."

Rand growled. "We're heading there anyway. We can get paid 1,500 zenny each to go there, or nothing. What do you want to do?"

"Good point," Sten allowed.

Of course, the best part of guarding a caravan, no matter where you might be, or where you might be headed, was the fact that instead of walking, one got the privilege of riding the wagons at either the front or back end of the train. Rand and Sten, through the luck of the draw, were positioned at the front end, while three other guards that the caravan master had hired were placed at the rear. The first two days of travel had been uneventful-even Sten had been somewhat mollified after his aroused suspicions, and he lounged lazily, lying back on the bench of the covered wagon, tossing one of his silver blades into the air and catching it repeatedly. Rand sat at the reins, leading the team forward on the road to Capitan, whistling an old farming song he'd been raised with.

"Look out!" someone yelled. "Monsters!"

That was the worst part of being a caravan guard.

The two rushed toward the northern end of the train, espying the two lizardmen and another odd, unidentifiable creature which were advancing threateningly on the goods merchants of the caravan. Sten flung a blade at the odd-looking beast, taking it out of the battle quickly. One of their reptilian foes hefted its shortbow and fired. Rand blocked the arrow with his steel bracers, sending it harmlessly to the grass. Then he wound up and knocked the beast silly with a one-two combination he'd learned in the Games. Sten finished off the second with a quick throat-slash.

Sten quickly looted the remains of their foes, something Rand had never really developed the stomach for. "Find anything?"

"Yeah," Sten answered. "A Help Ball." He tossed it to his big companion after retrieving his other knife.

"Anyone injured?" Rand asked loudly, holding the item up above his head. 'Anyone need medical assistance?"

The merchants and their respective retinues all responded in the negative, so Rand pocketed the Help Ball and continued to the forefront of the caravan. The two re-boarded the lead wagon, and with a shout of "Move 'em out!" Rand snapped the reins and began forward progress once again.

About fifteen miles out of Capitan, the caravan encountered a blockade of some sort. What appeared to be a company of around thirty magenta-uniformed soldiers were waiting in the roadway. Rand looked at his partner, who just spread his hands.

"Howdy there," he said as they approached the blockade. "What's up?"

"Please hold for inspection," said the man Sten took for company commander. He eyed the two with a nervous air as his soldiers began looking through the back of every wagon. Sten heard some of the merchants complaining as their goods were knocked astray.

"Who are you guys, anyway?" he asked.

The captain stood straight. "Honor guard for the Caliph of Capitan." Relaxing a bit, he explained, "We have standing orders to inspect all travelers entering this region."

Rand looked at Sten with a raised eyebrow. Now they knew who the Caliph was. "I was under the impression that Capitan was under the rule of the Queen of Wyndia."

The soldier's eyes darkened a bit. "That may have once been true, but our new lord seceded from Wyndian rule some time ago."

"I've heard little of this new Caliph," Sten said. "I would know more of him."

From what the officer told the two, the Caliph of Capitan had single-handedly revitalized the economy of the shipbuilding industry of the city, then turned his attention to other political goals, including independence for its citizens. He then raised an army from the city and surrounding fishing and farming villages to protect its "borders", throwing out the Wyndian consulate which administered laws in the westernmost city on the continent.

Sten became more apprehensive as the tale went on. He excused himself and tracked backwards along the caravan line until he found the inspectors. The ex-mercenary noted that while the soldiers weren't being very solicitous of the merchants' wares, nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be occuring. He wondered what he'd have to do if the soldiers actually found some contraband.

Luckily, the inspection team, whose magenta uniforms actually bore a marked similarity to Rand's usual choice of attire, found nothing to complain about within any of the caravan's wagons, and they were allowed to move on within the hour.

"I think," Sten told Rand as they rode on towards the newly-free city of Capitan, "I've figured out why those Wyndians were so angry at us the other night."

"Yeah," Rand said. "Those soldiers outfits look just like mine."

Sten snorted. "You'd think they'd have noticed my 'uniform' was three times to big for me."

"Not to mention it looked like a dress."

"Don't start."

Rand laughed. "I don't think that-" He stopped as Capitan came into view. To say that the city's size had increased would be an understatement. Areawise, the city had expanded almost fourfold, and Rand figured that meant the city's population might be over ten times the amount of people that had been living there upon his last visit. The growth was almost unnatural. Rand allowed for some of it, being that carpentry was the primary vocation of the majority of Capitaners, but it would seem impossible that the city could have grown that much.

"Whoa," commented Sten, pointing at what was by far the most prominent structure in the city, a huge, Arad-style palace. Gold minarets and spires decorated the large building, which was nearly larger than Castle Wyndia. "Guess whose house that is?"

"Well, it ain't mine," Rand said sarcastically.

The two accompanied the caravan master to the general store, which was in the old part of the city that Rand and Sten had both visited before. After receiving their pay, the companions moseyed on down to the inn to arrange their accomodations for the night.

"Say," Rand asked the innkeeper, just out of habit, "you haven't seen a girl with black wings hanging around here, have you?"

"Black wings?" she repeated. "Well, obviously one of the Caliph's wives has black wings, but other than that..."

The statement was made so matter-of-factly that its impact didn't register on Rand at first. Then he did a double-take. "His wife?!"

"What's going on?" Sten asked, bringing their packs inside.

"She says the Caliph's wife has black wings!"

"His what?"

"What're we gonna do now?"

Sten thought. "I'm not sure," he admitted, "but I know what we need to do first..."

"Right," Rand said, turning to the innkeeper once more. "We'll have two beers."

"We need to keep our wits about us Rand," said Sten. "We've got plans to make."

"Better make that two double-dragonwaters," Rand corrected.

END PART ONE