CHAPTER FOUR - The Gateway
As soon as the two young men were out of sight, the campsite became a flurry of activity. Gunthar began issuing orders, most of which were not really necessary, as the companions knew quite well what needed to be done.
Toranes handed a rolled leather scroll case, which he produced from one of his saddlebags, to Kyera. She hugged him and welcomed him back before accepting it. Halion was next, wrapping him in a crushing embrace.
Several of the horses shied away, rolled their eyes, and stamped their hooves as Blizzard trotted up and stood on her hind legs, using Toranes' chest to support her front paws. Standing that way, she was nearly as tall as he. He rubbed her neck and upper back. She twisted her neck, playfully catching his forearm in her jaws and releasing him unharmed before trotting off to stand a few feet away. Gunthar and Kaylin worked to calm the horses.
A moment later, Myrian approached Toranes. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest. She stood that way, unmoving, for several seconds, Toranes gently patting her back. Finally, she whispered into his chest, "Thank ye. Thank ye, fer me lyif."
He gently disengaged himself from her, cupped her chin with his hand, and lifted her face so he could look into her eyes. They were pretty and a bright green, the color of a grassy meadow in full spring, and glistening with unshed tears. He said, "It was an honor to be of service to you, young lady." Without a hint of sarcasm, he smiled at her and bowed slightly.
As the companions worked to load all their gear into the wagon, or the empty saddlebags of the horses, Kyera and Myrian, who'd become very close over the past few days, stepped aside and unrolled the leather bundle Toranes had provided.
"By Mystra's hand," Kyera exclaimed. "There must be a dozen scrolls in here." Her eyes, and Myrian's, were wide with wonder.
"Fourteen," Toranes answered as he un-wrapped a choice cut of fresh venison he'd removed from his saddlebags, and tossed it to Blizzard. She caught it out of the air and trotted off a dozen yards or so, where she laid down and set to work devouring it. "I bought a pair of Gateway scrolls, just to be safe." He paused a moment as he re-buckled the strap on his saddlebags. Turning toward them, he continued. "The rest Guerrand sent as a gift,…for you."
"I must remember to thank him, when next we are here," she said, thumbing through the scrolls, taking a moment to examine each. She reached one about halfway through, and stopped. "I don't recognize this," she said, holding up the scroll in question.
Without looking up from his work, checking the saddle girth on one of the mounts he'd bought, Toranes said, "It is one of his own devising. He calls it Eldritch Enhancer."
"What does it do?" she asked, though she already had a guess.
"It allows you to prepare extra spells for every day it is in effect." Her shocked expression told those watching exactly how valuable she thought that to be. Myrian seemed quite thoughtful as well. Toranes continued, "You may not actually cast any extra spells, but it does expand your possible choices."
"And he just gave it to us?" she asked incredulously.
"No," Toranes said as he looked up, with just a hint of a smile. "He gave it to you."
"But, why?" she asked. "He is your friend."
"Because," Toranes replied, his smile firmly in place, "he is quite taken with you." He leaned down to lift the horse's hoof and examined it, and added, almost as an afterthought, "He has been since first you met."
Kyera's face flushed and she turned away. Her voice quavered just a bit as she said, "He is quite nice, but I can't say that I feel the same."
"He knows that," Toranes said, pausing in his work, all amusement gone from his voice, replaced by genuine warmth and concern for the feelings of both of his friends. "But, he maintains hope. Or, as he puts it, 'There is always tomorrow'."
It was at that moment, that a'Launiira approached them, clearing her throat to announce her presence. Toranes turned to face her, and he had to fight down his first instinct of mistrust and dislike for drow. In a warm, deep voice, he asked, "May I be of service Mistress a'Launiira?"
Her left arm was held tightly to her side in an improvised sling. He berated himself mentally for forgetting to pick up a better sling for her arm while in the city. She smiled timidly, and yet he couldn't help but notice how it made her face, already exquisite, even more beautiful.
When she spoke, her voice was light and musical sounding. "I have been told what you said, about how I will be received in Silverymoon," she said. "And both Kyera and Tharkunn have assured me that it is true…"
"But you'd like to hear it directly from me," Toranes said.
"It has been my experience for almost twenty years, that surface folk in general, will not tolerate a drow in their midst." After a short pause, she added, gesturing around to her companions with her good arm, "With a very few exceptions."
"And rightly so, in most cases," Toranes replied. She nodded her agreement, obviously not feeling insulted in the least by his truthful remark. "But, in Silverymoon, you'll be judged by your actions, not by your birth, or the actions of other drow." She broke into a full smile as he spoke, and he felt a lump form in his throat.
"I will caution you," he said, clearing his throat. "There will be some who will disdain you on sight. Some might even speak out against you and impugn you or your heritage. People are people, after all, and not all are capable, or willing to set aside such prejudices." Her smile faded some, and she nodded, obviously expecting no less. Toranes went on, "However, unlike most places, they will be the exception, not the rule."
"I understand," she said. Despite his warning at the end, she couldn't help but to look forward to seeing a place she wouldn't be turned away or attacked on sight.
As she turned, Toranes caught her right wrist in his left hand. Galarid, a few yards away, tensed and stopped his packing of a'Launiira's things onto the wagon, and watched with wary eyes. In his heart, Toranes could sense her decency, and he genuinely felt for her, and for her obvious desire to find a place in the world where she could fit in.
"When we reach the city," he said, "I will pledge for you. The city guards, even the High Lady herself will accept my word on your behalf."
She nodded once, her expression one of wonder mixed with delight. She bowed slightly and said in a soft voice, "I thank you." He released her wrist, and as she turned away toward the wagon, he spoke again.
"In fact," he said, "I wouldn't be at all surprised if Lady Hope wishes to meet you herself."
Twenty minutes later, all was ready. a'Launiira sat on the wagon seat next to Galarid. Before them, in rows of two each, standing with hands on the bridles of the mounts they'd chosen, were Tolmen and Reldrin, Halion and Myrian, Gunthar and Kaylin, and Tharkunn, leading his own horse and one for Kyera. Just off to one side, at the center of the clearing, Kyera stood, holding one of the scrolls. Toranes was astride his gray, leaning down low in the saddle to speak with her, using his knees to control the animal. Blizzard stood patiently a few yards away.
"Where exactly should I open the Gateway?" Kyera asked.
"I thought, perhaps, you could use the clearing at the Northwestern edge of the Silverwood," Toranes answered. "The one we used as a campsite last year, a few miles North of Lieri's grove. Do you remember it?"
"Of course," she said. "I think that is a fine choice." She turned to face the companions. "Are we ready?"
"We are indeed, Lady Kyera," Gunthar answered, somewhat formally.
"All right then," she said. She stepped away from Toranes and began to chant, reciting strange words of magic she read from the scroll, "Insantimos Beltharadeu Melktenor Rhieezh." With her free hand, she traced the outline of a large rectangle in the air before her. A short distance ahead, the air began to ripple and waver as though seen at a great distance through a burning desert. Slowly, the scene behind the ripple changed. It was another clearing, but smaller, and the sky was slightly darker. The trees were different as well, more aspens and pines, fewer oaks and maples.
As soon as the image solidified, Toranes ducked low over the neck of his gray mare and heeled her through the opening, with Blizzard darting after him.
Myrian and a'Launiira, all the companions really, but those two in particular, gazed in awe at the magical passageway Kyera had formed. Both were able to cast spells of a magical nature, but neither was near capable of a spell that powerful, yet. Nor was Kyera, in truth.
A whistle carried from the other side of the Gateway, where Toranes had ridden out of sight. Tharkunn started forward at a trot, leading the horses through and turning almost immediately aside to the right. The others followed closely, each pair turning right or left, opposite the pair in front of them. Galarid drove the wagon through, straight ahead for several yards before stopping. Finally, Kyera stepped through, and as soon as she did, the Gateway wavered and vanished.
Kyera seemed just a tad unsteady. She stumbled a bit as the Gateway disappeared. Tharkunn was there in a flash, but not before Gunthar, who steadied her with an arm around her shoulders. "Are you alright, Lady Kyera?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, "I'll be fine." She took a deep breath and said, "It was a powerful spell, far more powerful than I am capable of casting on my own."
"I thought the power came from the scroll itself," he said as he helped her to the back of the wagon, gently placing his hands on her waist and lifting her to a seat on the wagon's bed.
"It does, but it funneled through me to take effect." He frowned at that thought. She patted his shoulder. "Thank you. I'm just a bit tired. With a little rest, I'll be right as rain." He nodded once, smiled at her and went off to see to his mount.
The air this far north was even colder than it had been near the coast. Firewood was one of the things that Toranes had remembered to purchase, and have loaded on the wagon bed, enough for perhaps two nights. Reldrin set about moving some loose stones to form a fire pit, and getting a campfire going. The others saw to the horses and wagon, and took care of the myriad of details that went along with making a camp.
After twenty minutes or so, Toranes and Blizzard returned. He dismounted, leading the mare to the other horses and tethered her to a low hanging tree limb. "It's all quiet out there," he said, setting about caring for the mare. He soon joined the others in getting the camp set up.
As the twilight faded to complete darkness, a'Launiira stood off several feet from the fire and stared out into the darkness, at a tiny, flickering light many miles off to the Northeast in the darkness. "What is that?" she asked, pointing to the light.
With just a quick glance, Tharkunn answered, "Rauvinwatch Keep."
"A military outpost?" Gunthar asked, immediately interested.
"Yes," Tharkunn answered. "It is the headquarters for the Argent Legion."
"The Argent Legion?" Gunthar asked. "I've never heard of them. Who are they?"
This time it was Kyera who answered. "They are the combined military force of the cities that make up the League of the Silver Marches."
Toranes picked up where she left off. "When High Lady Alustriel convinced the rulers of the cities of the North that they should band together, share their strengths, the Silver Marches was born."
"Each city has its own forces, but Alustriel decided it would be wise to form the Legion as well, a force not designed to defend one city, but rather, all of them," Kyera jumped back in.
"There are Silveranean Knights-in-Silver, Everlundian pikemen and archers, Sundabarran infantry, and dwarven infantry from Mithril Hall, Citadel Adbar, and Citadel Felbarr," Toranes said.
"How many men are there in this Legion?" Gunthar asked.
"Maybe a total of twelve hundred or so," Toranes said. "About half of them are garrisoned there in Rauvinwatch. The others are spread out in garrisons amongst the outlying cities and towns of the Marches."
Gunthar looked thoughtful. He was always interested in the workings, strategy and history of any military force. Myrian asked, "Will they see our fire and come dowen here?" Galarid looked up at the light, then quickly over at a'Launiira.
Tolmen pronounced their evening stew ready, and began ladling out bowls to each of the companions from the pot. It was fresh vegetables and roots, with large chunks of salted pork, all of which Toranes had brought back with him.
"Doubtful, tonight at least," Toranes answered Myrian's question as he accepted a bowl of stew from Tolmen with a nod. "If they've noticed our fire, they might send a patrol in the morning to investigate, but they wouldn't arrive before tomorrow afternoon, mid-day or so, and by then we will be long gone from here. We may run into them on the road as we ride east though." He took a taste of the stew, using a wooden spoon, and was surprised at the delicious flavor. He nodded in appreciation to Tolmen. The halfling was a fine cook, indeed.
Galarid glanced at a'Launiira again, his forehead creased with a worried frown.
"Don't be alarmed," Kyera said. "So long as you are with us, no one will bother any of you." She smiled reassuringly at a'Launiira and Galarid. Both seemed to relax a bit.
The conversation turned to other things as they all enjoyed Tolmen's fine stew. Many of the stories and jokes that had been told over the last few days were repeated for Toranes' benefit. Later, at the prodding of the companions, he told them of his encounter with Nuruk and the other orogs. At the end of the tale, Myrian's eyes gleamed with unshed tears and Halion clapped Toranes on the back, nearly knocking him off the log he was using for a seat.
As the hour grew late, Toranes, after some prompting from Kyera, and even some from Tharkunn, produced a small leather harp case from his pack. He took a finely crafted duskwood harp from inside and strummed his fingers over the strings. After a few minor adjustments, he played a merry tune. The companions clapped along, even the normally reserved Tharkunn. Myrian pulled Gunthar to his feet and danced a jig around the firelight. Though he was reasonably light on his feet, Gunthar was no match for the graceful young woman.
As Toranes began a second reel, Myrian grabbed Tolmen, Kyera stepped in with Gunthar, and Galarid vainly tried to keep up with a spinning a'Launiira, who managed to make even Myrian seem clumsy.
Next, he played a somber elven melody about the fall of Myth Drannor, his deep, rich voice a fine accompaniment to the plaintive strains of the harp. Even those among the companions who could not speak the elven tongue in which he sang, found tears welling in the corners of their eyes, from the sheer sadness of the music.
On he played and sang, tunes both merry and sad, for over an hour before they settled in for the night to rest. A schedule was laid out, by Gunthar, for pairs to watch while the others rested. The companions drifted off one by one.