This is an ongoing project. I have planned it out for roughly 18-20 chapters. The first 15 have already been completed. I will attempt to post a chapter every 1-2 days. The setting of this story is the Forgotten Realms, a fantasy world the content of which, including several of the characters which will appear in this story I do not own. Only my own unique characters are mine.
IN SILVER DREAMS
CHAPTER ONE - A Fortuitous Meeting
A cold winter wind blew in off the Sea of Storms, past the city of Neverwinter, and continued on into the forest known as the Neverwinter Wood. The bright starlight shone through the leafless boughs of trees waiting patiently for the warmth of spring to arrive. Southeastward the wind blew, finally passing through a large clearing a few miles from the Southernmost edge of the forest.
There was a battle underway in the clearing between a small group of travelers and a large war band of orcs and orogs. The travelers fought in a circle, their backs to one another around the remains of their campfire. The starlight provided just enough illumination for them to see the pig-like faces of the nasty creatures they fought.
The humanoids threw themselves forward in waves, attempting to overwhelm the beleaguered defenders. Close to a dozen of the beasts were down already, but it was clear that they would eventually exhaust their adversaries.
A few hundred yards farther to the Southeast, toward the edge of the forest, the wind carried the sounds of battle, the sharp ring of metal on metal, the harsh guttural cries of the orcs, and the yells of the travelers as they fought for their lives, to the ears of another small band. Four shapes moved stealthily through the trees, two men, a woman, and a large white wolf.
The first of the two men, a half-elven woodsman, carried a short bow of pale ash with an arrow nocked, but not drawn. His name was Toranes Doriego. Powerfully built, he was just a hair shy of six feet tall with broad shoulders, black hair cropped close, a neatly trimmed goatee, and steely gray eyes. He wore a leather tunic, dyed to a deep forest green, with blackened metal studs, over fine linen garments in shades of brown, and green, and gray. A heavy black cloak kept the chill from reaching all but his hands and face. A slightly curved saber, with a silver-chased basket hilt hung from his left hip, balanced by a fine dagger with a small emerald set in the pommel on his right.
The man to his right, named Tharkunn Doressin, wore mostly all black, his right hand on the hilt of a long sword in a scabbard at his left hip. His dark eyes never ceased scanning the nearby woods for enemies. He moved almost as quietly through the dried leaves and mulch of the forest floor as did Toranes. His dark brown hair was worn long, just slightly down past the shoulders, with a touch of gray at the temples. It was held back from his face by a silver clip, set with a polished dark blue stone. He was somewhat slight of build, but wiry, dressed in a cranberry colored fine wool shirt and black breeches. He also wore a black cloak.
The woman, Kyera Trajan, was also a half-elf. She had bright green eyes and long shining black hair down to her waist, drawn back in an intricate braid. Her slim figure and beautiful face were enough to set any man's blood aflame. The only weapon visible upon her person was a fine jeweled dagger, set with a large glittering sapphire in the hilt, tucked into her belt of bronze links. She held her heavy cloak, deep blue and lined with marten, close about her to protect her from the wind. Despite her long, midnight blue dress, she seemed to glide along almost as quietly as the two men. As they approached the clearing, she readied her true weapon, her mind, calling forth a minor spell to be hurled at the humanoids.
The wolf was a blend of snowy white and grays ranging from near white to almost black with a deep black muzzle. She ghosted along next to Toranes, her boon companion. The name she responded to was Blizzard and, like Toranes, she hated orcs. She longed to howl out a challenge as she loped through the trees, but she'd been trained to remain stealthy. As they approached the edge of the clearing, she stopped beside the woodsman at his soft verbal command.
Both Toranes and Blizzard had a special hatred of orcs. Of all the many creatures on the surface of Aebir-Toril, there were none they despised more. Toranes fought down the urge to rush headlong into the clearing, forcing himself instead to take a few seconds to survey the moonlit scene in front of him and plan the attack appropriately. Tharkun slipped up behind a tree to his right. Toranes felt Kyera's hand on the back of his left shoulder, and he knew she was ready to do her part.
Around a campfire in the center of the clearing, he saw a small group fighting for their lives. Two of them were already down, probably dead. Closest to him was a large man in a red, green and gold kilt, wielding a large two-handed sword. He had wild red hair, which hung loosely around his shoulders and a full, unkempt, red moustache and beard. He must have been at least six and a half feet tall, and well over two hundred and seventy pounds. He swung his sword in a vicious arc, cleaving the orc before him in two, but before the body even hit the ground, an orog as big as he was stepped up to face him, swinging a large, spiked club at his head. Only quick wrists and great strength turned aside the blow.
To the big man's left, a tall, attractive woman with blonde hair, loose around her shoulders, fought with a mace against a pair of smaller orcs. She wore the pink, red and yellow robes of a cleric of Lathander. Her posture was one of pure defense. She swung her mace back and forth in an effort to block the probing thrusts from orcish spears. Her breathing was labored. Eventually, she would tire and she would begin to slow, and one of those thrusts would strike home.
On the far side of the Lathanderian priestess was a stocky, brown-bearded dwarf with a small round shield and a wicked looking axe. He wore a chain mail hauberk which hung to his knees. He wielded the axe with skill, taking the arm from a careless orc before ducking back behind the shield. Toranes could see at least two orcish arrows protruding from his body. They hardly seemed to be affecting him though. A particularly brave orc stepped up to swing a rusty short sword, and had the axe imbedded in his skull for his efforts. The dwarf tugged the axe free, but not before yet another of those foul creatures had torn a gash in his leg with its spear point.
To the left of the dwarf, a woman with flame colored hair, of a shade with the big man's, wearing a long white dress, fought with only a dagger. As Toranes watched, an orcish arrow from the far side of the clearing took her in the shoulder, driving her back a step. Bright red blood began to spread across the shoulder of that white dress. She looked down at the arrow and promptly slumped to the ground. The dwarf immediately altered his stance, angling his body to protect his fallen comrade.
To the left of the woman, a large man in chain mail and a breastplate swung a long sword and held a kite shaped shield. He shifted a step to the right, mimicking the dwarf, protecting the fallen woman. His sword work was excellent, precise cuts and parries. He seemed to be the freshest of the group, but even he was beginning to slow. He risked a glance back toward the young woman, and Toranes saw both determination and despair on his face. He seemed to be a young man, but even so, his face was lined with worry.
Slowly, as he and the dwarf held off the orcs, the woman's body began to slide across the ground deeper into the circle. For the first time, Toranes noticed a small figure inside the circle, about the size of a human child, dressed in bright greens and yellows. It was obviously the halfling who had pulled the fire-haired woman to relative safety. It was difficult for Toranes to make out the details, but he thought the halfling was male.
To the left of the man Toranes had sub-consciously dubbed "the knight", a half-elven swordsman in a silky black shirt and black breeches, with long chestnut colored hair held back in a ponytail, fought with a pair of orcs, using a flashing rapier and main-gauche. He fought with a daring and reckless style, dancing back and forth, stabbing and slashing this way and that. He had several minor wounds to show for his efforts. He seemed more interested in defending the companion to his left than he did himself.
It was this eighth, and final, companion that managed to shock the unflappable woodsman. The moonlight glinted off her long, lustrous white hair, and her amber eyes burned against the darkness, and against her ebony skin. She wore a dark colored dress of fine linens. She was small, no taller than an inch or so over five feet, but the orcs wouldn't even approach her. She fought a losing battle against a pair of orogs. She swung a small war hammer in a defensive maneuver against the two huge clubs.
All of this Toranes took in with a three second glance around the clearing. He delayed another second as he troubled over why a priestess of the Morning Lord would be fighting alongside a drow female, but he pushed the thought aside. There would be time enough to figure it out after the orcs had been dealt with. He raised his bow, and smoothly drew back the string until the fletching on the arrow brushed his cheek. He targeted one of a pair of orcs pressuring the Lathanderian. The bowstring twanged and his shaft flew true, taking the creature in the side of the throat, lifting it off its feet and toppling onto its side. The second orc turned to look at his fallen partner, puzzled by this new development, and was quickly brained by the woman's mace, crumpling to the ground like a boneless mass.
As the arrow streaked across the fifty yards to its target, Blizzard was already in full flight, leaping into the back of the nearest, unsuspecting orc, her teeth seeking the creature's neck. And just like that, she was gone, seeking other prey. The orc flailed about trying to hold in the lifeblood which poured from its ruined throat.
Tharkunn drew a slim-bladed dagger from a sheath tucked into the top of his left boot, and launched it into the clearing, catching a very confused orc in the belly as he turned. As the creature cried out in rage and pain, Tharkunn sprinted into the clearing to an open space ten yards from the edge. His sword slid free of the scabbard, coming out in a wide sweeping arc, catching the nearest orc as it charged, eviscerating the beast. The man in black set his feet and prepared himself for the inevitable onslaught.
As Tharkunn settled in to fight, Toranes pulled the bowstring to his cheek for a second shot. As the fletching again brushed his cheek, Kyera whispered a single word of magic, "Laninok," releasing her spell, sending five balls of pure coruscating purplish-blue magical energy streaking across the clearing to strike both of the orcs in front of the dwarf in the chest. One took three of the strikes and was thrown backward from the impact, knocking down another behind him. The second was hit twice, and stared in disbelief at his scorched chest as he stumbled back a step. He quickly went down when the dwarf bashed his face in with his shield.
It was a close thing as to who was more surprised, the humanoids or the travelers, but it was the travelers who recovered first. The 'knight" let out a furious battle cry to Torm the True and stepped forward, driving back his foes. He bashed one orc aside with his shield and sliced through the ratty leathers of another, leaving it with a terrible wound to the abdomen. The dwarf roared out a cry to Clangeddin, the dwarven god of battle, and finished the orc who'd been knocked from his feet.
Toranes' second arrow took an orog in the back of the shoulder just as it was poised to bash the red bearded man from the side. The man's own blade was too slow in coming up, but the orog, thrown off balance by the arrow, only managed to graze him. He chopped it in the neck with a downward swing, forcing it to the ground, and kicked it backward to free up his blade.
A trio of orcs and a single orog broke off from the main group and charged Tharkunn. He faced them calmly, as if he had all the time in the world. One orc went down beneath a flash of gray-white, fangs tearing at hamstrings. As the others got near, Tharkunn suddenly burst into motion. A quick flick of his wrist disarmed the first orc, leaving a short gash along its wrist. He spun to parry the short sword of the second orc. As the clang of metal on metal still resounded around him, he ducked low, turning what would have been a devastating blow from the orog into a stinging graze to his left shoulder before spinning back and burying his own blade into the beast's midsection.
Another five missiles of pure magic flew from the trees, dodging around Tharkunn to slam into the neck and chest of the orog, forcing the creature to stumble back. Tharkunn used the moment Kyera had bought him well. He finished the disarmed orc and spun back to parry another wild swing from the other. His own blade flashed past its guard, taking the creature in the throat.
The companions were rallying now, as the humanoids struggled to understand how the tide of battle had managed to turn against them. The big man and the "knight" swung their swords in wide arcs, driving their tormentors back in an effort to buy a few seconds of rest for their companions. The Lathanderian priestess ducked back behind them, pulling a golden chain from beneath her robes. Bending over the redheaded woman, she began a fervent prayer to her god.
A single orc managed to slip between the dwarf and the big man, spear raised at her back. A stone, slung by the halfling on the far side of the fire, hit the orc in the center of the forehead, knocking it senseless for a moment. The big man reached back with one hand, grabbed it around the throat and flung it into the orog now facing him. They both sprawled in the dirt, but another orog stepped in, preventing him from finishing them.
Toranes unleashed several more arrows, each finding a home in orcish flesh. A quintet of orcs and orogs turned toward the trees where the damned archer was hiding and began to charge. Toranes recognized the chant Kyera had begun behind him, and ducked to the side, sliding around the tree Tharkunn had used as cover earlier. He felt the flash of heat as an expanding ball of flame rushed out past him and burst in the center of the charging creatures. There was a thunderous boom and a flash, and all three of the orcs were down. One orog lay on the ground thrashing about for a few seconds before going still. The second orog danced about, howling in pain and batting at its own head with blackened hands, trying to put out its own flaming hair. Toranes unleashed a shaft, dropping it to the ground, where it lay still.
Tharkunn faced the wounded orog before him calmly. Enraged by the pain, it charged him again. He deftly deflected its wild swing, feeling a jolt in his shoulder as the powerful beast slammed into him. He spun away, keeping his feet, then turned his shoulder in, thrusting his long sword halfway to the hilt into its back. He pulled his blade free, knowing the creature was dead before it ever hit the ground.
The swordsman next to the drow woman spun around after finishing the orc before him, taking a blow meant for her in his side from the club of an orog. His breath gone, he stumbled to a knee, and Toranes was sure he was finished. The creature brought its club back up over its head. The overhand blow would surely crush the man's skull. He was stunned and couldn't even see the blow coming, let alone block it. Toranes brought his bow up, drawing it back, but he knew he wouldn't be in time. Even as he managed to reach the halfway point of the draw, the club began to descend. A flash of silver crossed his sight, and the drow woman's war hammer crushed the nose of the orog, sending it stumbling back, the club falling from nerveless fingers.
The heroic move was a suicidal one for the drow. The other orog facing her howled with glee as it wound up to pound her with its own club. She fumbled at her belt for a dagger, but it was useless, and the look on her face, a mixture of resignation and despair said she knew it. His decision made in that instant, Toranes adjusted his aim by a hair and loosed his shaft. It flew true, taking the orog right through its open mouth, cutting off its victory yell, turning it into a pained gurgle. The club followed through on momentum alone, but the drow managed to slip the worst of it. Even so, the impact to her shoulder drove her to the ground where she remained. A second later, the orog dropped beside her.
An opportunistic orc stepped up, seeing a chance to finish the stunned swordsman, who had fallen backward and was lying on his back, but suddenly found his way barred by the halfling, a short sword held steady before him. The orc delayed only a second before advancing on his diminutive foe, but that was enough for Kyera's next spell to take effect. "Deranzere Pokroi." The orc felt the magic wash over him, but did not understand what it was he felt. He couldn't grasp how it was possible that the little halfling now towered over him. In fact, all those around him now seemed giants. The last thought that flashed through his mind before Tolmen's blade ended his life was that, somehow, he'd shrunk.
The tide had well and truly turned. Blizzard tore out another hamstring, dashing away before the orc could stab out at her. The travelers in the circle, seeing hope, where a moment before there had been none, attacked with a renewed vigor. A half-dozen more humanoids went down in the next moment. Tharkunn advanced slowly toward the companions, slashing down another pair of orcs foolish enough to stand in his way. Another pair of arrows flew from the trees, dropping another orog. To his left, Toranes saw Kyera wind up and make a motion as if she were hurling a stone into the clearing. "Nicimiyen Jovayas Ouldzeen."
About halfway to the humanoids, the air began to swirl and coalesce along the path her throw would have taken, and a small air elemental formed, driving into the chest of another orog, knocking it back. Toranes smiled. The spell, del'Nuron's Diminishing Blow, was one that was known only to Kyera and her mentor, Emirikol del'Nuron.
The elemental was the last straw for the humanoids. Many threw down their weapons and fled into the trees. A few fought on, and died quickly. Others fled along any route they could. Eight more fell to the travelers or Tharkunn, or Blizzard during their retreat. The white wolf yelped out in pain as an orog swiped at her, clubbing her in the side as he fled. An arrow, one of a handful of enchanted shafts he owned, from Toranes' bow lodged in its spine and it fell, never to rise again.
At least thirty-five orcs and orogs had escaped. Still, the clearing was littered with the corpses of at least thirty more dead or dying humanoids. Toranes gritted his teeth. He wanted to pursue the fleeing beasts, to ensure none of them ever took another life, but he couldn't. His first responsibility would be to aid the travelers.
Tharkunn had sheathed his sword, but his hand was still on the hilt, and his eyes scanned the trees for any orcs who might try to double back and catch them unawares. Kyera left the cover of the trees and stepped up beside him. A moment later, his bow now slung on his back, Toranes joined them.
The travelers faced the newcomers, except for the dwarf, Reldrin, who was handily finishing any wounded or unconscious humanoids, and Kaylin, the Lathanderian priestess, who worked feverishly over her fallen comrades.
Gunthar Silvershield, the man Toranes had dubbed "the knight", stepped up to the front of his companions. His sword was held out and at the ready, and he peered over his shield at Toranes and the others. He was grateful that they had arrived when they did, but he would not simply assume that they were friends. Just because they killed orcs, it did not mean that they would not kill him and his friends just as quickly. The two groups faced one another from a distance of perhaps thirty feet.
Gunthar immediately pegged the woman as the mage. Three of his companions had ability with the Art, but at the moment, all were now down. And, none were capable of what she'd shown during the battle at any rate.
Halion stepped up beside him. The red bearded man leaned heavily on his claymore. The side of his kilt was soaked in blood, much of it his own. Gunthar was amazed that he was still standing. He made a good show of standing strong, but Gunthar could see the slight trembling of his arms. He knew Halion well enough to know that nerves would be no part of it. He was exhausted as well as wounded.
Galarid was still trying to rise behind them, but he was unable to stand. He gave up and crawled to where a'Launiira, the drow woman lay, her eyes closed. Her exquisitely beautiful face was covered in her own blood, which flowed heavily from a scalp wound. Although it bled freely, from where Gunthar stood, the wound itself did not look too serious. He was much more concerned with her shoulder. He'd seen that blow fall, and he was convinced that it was for the best that she'd lost consciousness.
Behind him, Gunthar could hear Reldrin muttering and cursing in dwarven as he pulled an orcish arrow from his thigh. Kaylin was praying again to Lathander, tears streaming down her cheeks as she attempted to stem the flow of blood from Myrian's shoulder. The flame haired apprentice mage looked very pale and her breathing seemed very shallow. Gunthar doubted that Kaylin's tears were for Myrian alone. He'd seen the orcish spear tear through Addam's body. There was no way that the mage had lived through that. It was a tragedy. He'd been a good man, and a great friend. His magic had helped them all time and again, but on this night, it hadn't been able to save him.
And poor Melandra. He never should have allowed her to tag along with them. She was so young. Her exuberance and energy had been uplifting for all the companions. Now, she'd never grow up. Fifteen was too young to fall to an orcish arrow, but there was nothing he could do about it now, except offer up a prayer to Torm in their names.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gunthar could see Tolmen, his old friend, trying to bandage Galarid's wounds. The man seemed oblivious. He only had eyes for a'Launiira. Gunthar smiled at the thought of the jubilant little halfling being alright. They'd been friends for more than ten years. He'd known Tolmen longer than any of the others.
Silence stretched between the two groups for almost ten seconds. Finally, Gunthar said, "Thank you for your aid, friends. You saved our lives this night."
Toranes took a step forward and answered, "It was nothing any decent soul wouldn't have done. We couldn't just leave you to the filthy orcs."
Gunthar nodded, but said, "You took quite a risk. There were close to seventy of them, and twenty or more of them orogs." The half-elf didn't react at all beyond a grimace. Gunthar continued, "Even with both our groups, the outcome had to be uncertain." He tried to read the half-elf's expression. Just then, Blizzard hobbled back into the clearing from the trees. Gunthar turned and raised his blade. The dwarf raised his axe.
"Don't." The half-elf's voice was cold and threatening, but at the same time, not, or so it seemed to Gunthar. "She's with me." He whistled once, and the white wolf limped to his side, where she sat on her haunches next to him and whined. He dropped a hand on her head and scratched behind her ears. Gunthar watched, a little bit put out that he could so casually be touching the huge wolf.
"It was our pleasure to help," Kyera said, but before she could go on, a cry from Kaylin turned all their attention to her.
"I'm losing her Gunthar! The arrowhead must have been poisoned."
Gunthar looked back. Myrian's breathing did seem a bit more shallow. Her color was worse as well. The wound was mostly closed now, a product of Kaylin's healing spell, no doubt. Gunthar had no idea what to do. Kaylin's spells were obviously exhausted, or she would have done something already. a'Launiira was unconscious, and her spells had all but been depleted as well.
Halion turned and dropped his sword. "Noooo!" The scream tore from his throat. He dropped to his knees with a thud next to Myrian. "Noooo! Not me sister," he sobbed in a thick Moonshaes brogue. "She's too young. She's jess a lass."
When Gunthar turned back to the newcomers, he found that the half-elf was standing no more than five feet in front of him. His hands were empty, and his palms were out. Gunthar's blade came up reflexively, but he quickly lowered it again. Curious, the half-elf had moved quickly and he hadn't heard a thing. He didn't think Halion's cries could wholly account for it. Gunthar looked him in the eyes.
He spoke then, quietly, "My name is Toranes Doriego. These are my friends, Kyera Trajan," he gestured to the stunning woman in blue, "and Tharkunn Doressin," the man in black. "The wolf is Blizzard." Gunthar nodded to each of them as they were named, including the wolf, though it made him feel a bit foolish. "We are from Silverymoon, representatives from High Lady Alustriel, on our way home after a meeting with Lord Nasher of Neverwinter." The half-elf paused a moment to see how the man might respond. "I am also a ranger, skilled in woods lore, and very familiar with orcs and their ways." Gunthar nodded as he spoke. "Please allow me to examine your friend. I may be able to save her life."
Gunthar was used to making quick decisions. For three years he'd commanded a cavalry regiment for Waterdeep. He was also very good at reading another man's eyes. In Toranes' eyes he saw compassion, and urgency. "Thank you," he found himself saying, even before he realized he'd made the decision.
Toranes darted past him and dropped to a knee beside Halion. The big man glanced at him, but continued to cradle his sister's head on his lap. "Please," he whispered, "Please help her." It was the first time that Gunthar had ever heard him ask for anything from someone outside the group. He supposed he could understand, given the circumstances.
Toranes didn't respond. He was too engrossed in concentration. He tore the sleeve of Myrian's dress near the wound, so he could examine her shoulder. Halion stiffened a bit, but he didn't interfere. Toranes gently touched the edges of the wound with his fingertips, and brought them to his nose. He sniffed twice and caught a faint scent similar to jasmine, but with a bitter undertone. He quickly wiped his fingers on the ground and began to rummage through the pouch at his belt.
Tharkunn and Kyera had approached, and they were speaking in a low voice with Gunthar and Reldrin. Gunthar and Tharkunn clasped arms in a warrior's shake. Kyera laid a hand on Gunthar's shoulder, and in a soft, almost musical voice, she said, "If anyone can save her, Toranes can. Short of a priestess of Talona, he knows more about herbs and poisons than anyone I've ever known." A speculative light lit Gunthar's eyes as he watched the ranger at his work.
Kaylin, who'd moved on to bandaging a'Launiira's wounds, looked up at that point with a bit of hope in her eyes. The tears had left trails through the dust and blood on her cheeks. She even managed a half-smile to share with the half-elf woman. Kyera returned the smile with a warm one of her own. She knelt down next to Kaylin and began to examine a slash on the priestess's arm.
Toranes produced a pair of small blue berries from a vial in his pouch. He crushed them between his fingers and let the juice dribble over the wound in Myrian's shoulder. He looked up at Halion and said, "The arrowhead was coated in blackthorn powder. It's very deadly." The big man shuddered. Toranes hurried on. "Luckily enough for us, it doesn't work incredibly fast."
Gunthar knew very little about poisons, or herbs, but he nodded as Toranes spoke. "I've used a bit of juice from the blueweed berries to slow the effects of the blackthorn further. It won't stop it, but it will buy us some time." He clasped Halion's shoulder and gave a small, reassuring squeeze as he spoke.
A light of hope began to shine in Halion's eyes. "I don't suppose any of you have any fox fennel?" Toranes glanced around as he asked. All the companions shook their heads. Toranes took a deep breath. He'd expected as much, but hoped to be wrong.
"Wha' can we do?" Halion asked. He looked at Toranes now as if the ranger were his last hope. It was possible, Gunthar thought, that he was.
Toranes replied, "The blueweed juice will keep her alive for another two hours, maybe. I have to find some fox fennel before then."
"In the dark?" Gunthar asked. "In the middle of the night?"
"I'll manage," Toranes answered.
"Some of us should go with you," Gunthar offered, loosening his sword in the scabbard. "Those orcs are still out there somewhere."
"No," Toranes answered. "You should stay here. If the orcs return, you'll need every sword. Besides, I'll move quicker and quieter on my own. If I see any orcs, I'll do my best to avoid them." Tharkunn grimaced, but said nothing. Kyera raised an eyebrow.
"What should we do while you're gone?" Kaylin asked.
"Boil some water," Toranes answered. "Mix in a little wine, then boil it down a bit and soak a few bandages in it. Kyera will show you. I'll be back soon." He stopped and spoke quietly with the wolf for a moment, once again producing surprised stares from the companions as he nuzzled her nose. After a moment, he quickly rose and trotted off into the trees without another word.
"I'll take a few minutes and scout around the camp," Tharkunn said in his gravelly voice, "make sure none of them are lying low nearby. I won't go far." He walked to the wolf and patted her head. "Come on Blizzard." Gunthar watched him disappear into the trees opposite the direction that Toranes had gone, the wolf limping along behind him. He took a breath, and a moment to assess the situation, and then began to issue orders.
"Reldrin, help me move Addam and Melandra away from the fire. Galarid, lie down for a moment and let Kaylin get a good look at you. a'Launiira will be alright." As he and Reldrin lifted Addam gently, and carried him a short distance away, he said, "Halion, try to get a little rest. You won't do Myrian any good if you fall over. And let Tolmen bandage your wounds." Halion looked up, his eyes filling with tears. He was about to object, but then he just nodded and lay down next to his sister, holding her hand. Tolmen immediately went to work washing and bandaging.
As he carried poor, sweet Melandra, Gunthar told Tolmen, "When you're done with Halion, take a quick scout around yourself. Make sure there is nothing out there." The little halfling nodded wearily, and went back to his bandaging.
Toranes and his friends seemed like good people, but Gunthar wasn't quite ready to rely solely on them. He'd survived as long as he had by taking a care. He sat down next to the fire to catch his breath before tackling the job of dragging away the orcish corpses. When he looked up, Kyera was watching him from across the flames as she prepared to boil a pot of water. She smiled, a warm and knowing smile, with just a hint of amusement in it. Gunthar couldn't help but to feel just a bit sheepish. He shrugged and stood, walking to the nearest orc, grabbing it by the ankles and dragging it off. Kyera smiled after him. Throughout it all, the bitter cold wind continued to blow.