Chapter Three: "The way things Fall"

Warnings: PG for 'Flashbacks already? WTF!1'

NOTES: Yayza, flashbacks to start the chapters with! Or at least the shorter ones.

A bend in the road is not the end of the road... unless you fail to make the turn. Author Unknown


"Father! Father!"

Gorion turned tiredly. He was busy with Harper affairs often these days, leaving Saturniah with Tethtoril and Phlydia for weeks at a time, and every time he came home, the child who was old enough to know better still ran to him, smiling and calling him 'Father'. This time she had a tiny grey kitten in her hands. "Father, look at what Winthrop gave me! Tilda had kittens, and they're old enough and he gave me one!" Her wash-out blue eyes glimmered up at him happily, a large smile on her face. It was difficult to tell how old she was, but she'd been at Candlekeep for eight years now. The torment from the other children had not ceased, nor had the cold stares from the adults.

Gorion smiled at her, though he was exhausted to the bones. "Oh? And what did you name her, child?"

"I named her O'Rhyan! It's spelt differently, of course, but its ... sorta for you, you know." she explained cautiously. Though she had never been yelled at or struck by Gorion, she still had a frightful cautious way of talking to him when she was afraid she'd overstepped her bounds.

"Its a fine name for a very pretty little cat." he said reassuringly. He did feel warmed to know that she'd named her first pet after him. "Thank you for naming her such."

She beamed at him, once again brought to confidence, and tagged along after him, cuddling the mewling kitten in her arms and cooing to it.

He'd had some weeks with her yet before he had to leave again, and he had watched O'Rhyan grow into a wide-eyed wild-cat. She was skittish and tended to charge into things before breaking off and running to hide. It was a very amusing thing to watch, and he'd never seen Saturniah so happy.

When he came back, she threw herself at him, sobbing hysterically, a limp gray body in her arms.

Saturniah had cooed and cried over the body all that night, and the next morning the two of them held a tiny service for the cat; Gorion said a few words requesting a power to watch kindly over O'Rhyan's spirit, and Saturniah had offered her first and last religious words, saying a prayer to Mielikki; Gorion thought it best not to mention that domesicated cats did not fall under Mielikki's care.

Gorion never asked, and Saturniah never told, but the half-guilty and half-gloating manner of the children said it all.

--

Saturniah squatted in the middle of the road, staring blankly at the letter she held in front of her. She'd gone back -- she had to -- and she had forced herself to dig around. On her father she found that letter. That damning letter with those damning words.

Ward is a funny word, she decided. Ward could be someone you look over, or a magical barrier that saves you. No one will be hurt, but you lied, you lied.

She idly chewed on a lock of her hair, blinking frantically to clear her eyes. Had to see the letter. No one will be hurt? You never intended that. You slaughtered innocents to get to that ward, and you would kill her, too, wouldn't you?

The sound of a twig breaking set her off, and she was up and casting a spell before she saw the person who broke it. The fat man jerked back in surprise and fear, and Saturniah quickly disrupted her own spell, and cursed as she felt it slip from her mind. "What is it?" she demanded, harsh-voiced in her grief and agitation -- rasping like feet dragged through leaves, that otherworldly quality that made people uneasy. She should have expected it, but when he recoiled in shock she winced. "Do not mind my voice. It is something I have lived with all my life."

"Then mind you do not become a bard, odd-voiced elf, though that advice might have come too late." He said, casting her a weary glance. The words had no bite to them, but the stung all the same: these were the words that the children sang. She reflexively reached up to grab at the instrument's strap. Hull told her that Eric didn't want to see her, but that her she could keep the lute, even though Eric asked for Hull to get it back. Hull was nice, she decided, while he watched her with sad blue eyes.

"Please ... I was attacked last night, and lost my father. If you have anything to offer, I would greatly appreciate it, no matter what it is."

His gaze softened just a bit. "Aye, I saw the mess of it. Sorry to hear that. The only thing I have to offer is advice, though."

"It would be welcome."

"Go to the Friendly Arm Inn. It is close by, and requires no gifts for entry but peace. Beyond that? Travel accompanied. It is always better to have more than one sword arm and a few wizard around to keep the monsters and bandits at bay."

Saturniah decided against telling him that she already new as much. "Thank you. I should be on my way."

"And mine as well. Some hermit I am," he muttered as he made his way away. "Talking to every stranger that should happen along the way."

Saturniah quickly set on, keeping a leery eye on the road. She had little trust of it, but no trust for the forest out beyond it. Gorion had always warned her that bards should never travel alone for obvious reasons. They could probably make it, but it was a gamble, and hard on the bard who attempted it. She had no choice, though.

It was only chance that she happened upon the two. She had been edging off the road, keeping it in sight but not actually walking it, and so were they, apparently.

The startled halfling landed his dagger in her thigh, only missing the vital part by scant inches. She howled in pain, lashing out with her own dagger and taking hold of his life force with Larloch's Minor Drain. It was enough to finish it, but by then his companion had made it to her, howling some nonsense that only further scattered her wits and led to her pouncing on him. Luck was with her, though, and he turned out only to be a mage. As she slashed at him, he managed to use Larloch's skill against her, and she momentarily weakened. It was just enough for him to throw her off, and he lashed out with his dagger, shrieking alarmingly. Saturniah cried out as it slash a long mark along the bottom of her jaw, just narrowly missing her throat. She felt a hot blast of fury, dark and overwhelming and so very comforting --

Saturniah started, crying out and recoiling. For a bewildered second, she was confused, disoriented. She'd just been fighting ... a sudden and piercing pain shot up her leg, and she cried out as it gave out. She let out a sob -- her red robes, done so to make her look like a harmless mage, an unknowing new adventurer, were dark and wet. Her boot was slippery inside, and she felt dizzy. She bit back a groan as she clutched at the wound, whimpering. She could barely remember to fetch a potion from her pouch, drinking it down. It worked something like alcohol, burning its way down her throat and filling her with a fiery warmth. It dulled the pain without slowing her mind. She fished around in her pack until she could find a bandage to wrap her leg with. She laid around as long as she dared, carefully keeping her gaze on the sky. Didn't want to see what had happened to that mage that made her clothing all bloody, didn't need to see it.

When she felt that she might be steady on her feet, she made her way onward. She had to get to the Friendly Arm Inn, and fast. She was in a horrible shape, and she had the aching feeling that it could have been avoided, but it was getting dusky, and they had met in the shadows and bandits were everywhere and there was blood all around!

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. There was nothing to do about it now.

--

,;;, To be Continued ,;;,