On The Road, Part 3
"Good help is so hard to find." Eben said sarcastically.
"Me?! Who didn't even notice he was getting captured because he was too busy cleaning the astral plane with a magic mop?!" Dusty retorted.
The ruffians looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. "Hey boss," said one, "does that mean we get to roll bones for the mop?"
Jabulanth did not reply, but gave him a look of such contempt that he quickly turned away and continued binding the three prisoners.
The mercenaries had marched their prisoners over a rise, so they were no longer visible from the road. Two of them carefully tied the hands of the three prisoners. Then they bound the three captives back to back, so they were facing away from each other in a circle. Eben's helmet and Dusty's propeller hat were taken and dropped into a pile of books and parts that had been poured out of the giant backpack.
The half-elf finished emptying the side pockets of the last of Eben's carefully ordered possessions, flipping through the books and tossing them aside on the ground. Eben glared at him with barely controlled fury. Jabulanth studied some of the metal parts, but then dropped them too. "Junk." he muttered.
Before Eben could explode with insults, one of the bandits gagged him. "At last," Jabulanth sighed. "I had to make sure they didn't cast any spells before I leave you lot to kill them."
One bandit scratched his head. "But boss, if they're spellcasters, we're not supposed to kill 'em. You know what the rules are and-"
"Stop thinking." Jabulanth interrupted. "You are Hounds of the Iron Ring. Your job is to run the prey down and kill it or capture it when so ordered. Believe me, this operation comes from a much higher authority then your so-called slave masters." He giggled. "Or rather, a much lower authority."
Jabulanth produced the three hourglasses Dusty had seen him use at the Shady Dragon. He circled the three gagged prisoners standing together and tied back-to-back. In front of each man, he placed a single timepiece. "You will kill them. When the time is right."
Dusty looked down at the brown sand quickly pouring through the narrow glass at his feet. Then he noticed something moving next to it. An animate bundle of wires and buttons. It was one of Eben's mechanical beetles.
"And now I can bring to an end this little distraction." He put his face close to Friar Fergus' face. "I'm sorry I can't stay with you to the end, dear father, but you've wasted so much of my time already. I wish I had the time to properly avenge the time that you have caused me to waste." He gave the metal collar restraining the priest's powers a flick with his fingers.
Friar Fergus, gagged just like Eben and Dusty could say nothing, but looked at the mad killer before him with resigned sadness.
Annoyed at the priest's subdued reaction, Jabulanth snapped at the band of thugs, "Remember! Kill them the moment the sand runs out. Not a moment before, and not a moment later!" He twisted a silver ring he wore on his finger and the air in front of him wavered, and then he vanished. But Dusty could hear his footsteps moving to the east, headed toward Silver Lake.
Dusty looked down and saw the shiny metal beetle had moved closer, and was almost to his foot. He needed to get Eben's attention.
The iron ring hounds began to talk among themselves:
"So let's just kill 'em now and get out of here."
"Here now, we ain't killin' 'em 'till 'ol Jabby's glasses is empty. You knows what'll happen if he finds we jumped the mark."
"Aw, he ain't gonna know. 'Sides, I want to kill one with the mop now, see what it does."
"Don't be daft. That mop don't do nothin'. And even if it did, you wanna be known as that guy what fights with a mop?"
While they were arguing, Dusty banged his head sideways on Eben's shoulder. Eben was still in his plate mail, but his helmet had been removed. He turned his gagged head and glared at Dusty who tried to nod down at the beetle. Eben saw it, and his expression turned crafty and he raised one eyebrow.
The bandits continued to argue:
"I'd use it if was a vorpal mop!"
"A vorpal mop? You taken' one to many blows to the noggin, I reckon. Moppin' people's heads off right and left, huh? In a pretty little maid's dress?"
"He'd wear a maid's dress all by itself, if it was enchanted, I guess."
"He'd wear a dress even if it weren't enchanted!"
The bandits broke out in gaffaws, and the first bandit threw the first punch. While they were brawling Eben took advantage of the distraction to squat down, pulling Dusty and Fergus with him.
The strange, unwieldy human tripod crabwalked a few feet until the beetle was in the middle, under their bound hands. Eben managed to pinch the tiny artificial insect between two gauntleted fingers, and there was a buzzing hum as green, glowing energy built up.
Eben then tried awkwardly to flick the beetle up into the tangle of knots binding their arms together and to each other, but Dusty had twisted his head around to see what was happening. The beetle's metal legs caught in his light brown hair and became hopelessly entangled. Eben's eyebrows twisted in anger and disbelief as he watched their only chance of escape twisting uselessly on the bard's unkempt head.
The metal contraption crawling on his scalp tickled tremendously, and Dusty couldn't help but snort muffled laughter through his gag.
"Hey, hey, what you lot up to?" A Hound cried, and the brawl promptly came to a halt. Dusty, Eben and Fergus were hauled back up to their feet and one of the mercenaries checked the knots. "Still looks tight," he muttered suspiciously.
"Well well, boys, looks like its moppin' time!" cried second man as he pointed to Dusty's hourglass. Everyone looked down just in time to see the last bit of sand trickle through the narrow glass neck.
"Awright!" the first bandit cheered. He picked up Eben's mop. It was black, like everything Eben made, with metal pole and a woolen head. The bandit held it out and looked it, his head cocked to one side, not sure what do.
"Well go on, hit him!" the other bandits encouraged, snickering.
Dusty looked at the bandit nervously and tried to protest despite his gag, "MMMMGGG!"
But the mercenary with the mop only grinned at him. Then he shrugged, raised the mop over his head, like a two-handed greatsword, and slammed it down on Dusty's head.
The bard, being in good health, did not trigger the mop's sanitizing infusion. But the tiny metal beetle was crushed under the metal pole and it exploded in a shower of fiery green sparks. "I told you! I told you it was a magic mop!" shouted the wielder, triumphantly.
The other bandits, who had expected a dud, gaped in amazement as sizzling green filaments snapped, crackled, and popped, showering over the three prisoners. And wherever the bits of beetle landed, the effect of Eben's knock infusion took hold. The knotted ropes untangled in a sudden burst, the cloth gags unwound, Dusty's belt came undone, and the metal collar around Friar Fergus' neck clicked open and fell to the ground.
Dusty staggered backward, still dazed by the blow to the head. His eyes were not quite aimed in the the same direction. As the gag fell from his mouth he smiled at the green sparkles and said, "Look! Stars!" Then he tipped over, and rolled into the grass.
Eben immediately turned knobs and pushed buttons, and his shoulder mounted crossbow began to assemble itself.
Friar Fergus' bald head began to sprout a billowing mane of golden hair. His bent and aged frame surged with muscles, his mouth lengthened into a snout, and his hands inflated into paws. A fine tawny fur spread over his body, down to the tip of his newly sprouted tail. And then Fergus the lion turned to the shocked and fear-frozen thugs of the iron ring and pounced.
The mighty cat crashed into the crew of cutthroats, and they sprawled in all directions, like nine-pins. One of them managed to draw a crossbow and aim it at the feline Fergus, but with the push of a button, Eben impaled the shooter's shoulder with an arrow of his own. The infusion in the arrow activated and numbing ice spread out of the wound. The bandit dropped his weapon and cried out in pain.
Eben reloaded and aimed another bolt, as Fergus clubbed one bandit with his paw, and crunched another thug's leg in his jaws. One of them tried to slink around behind Eben, but with a flick of his wrist a metal rod slid out of his armored forearm and into his hand.
With a single quick command word a blast of colored light lit up the night and engulfed the unlucky rogue. He fell to the ground clutching at his blinded eyes. At the same time Eben's crossbow swiveled and shot the last bandit still standing in the knee. He fell defeated, clutching his leg and moaning in agony.
Dusty rubbed his eyes, still dazed, and mumbled "Wha hoppen?" He slowly stood up, covered in grass and dirt, and took in his surroundings.
He watched, confused, as Eben picked up the mop, then detatched and discarded the head. He went to the pile of parts Jabulanth had dumped by the roadside and selected a metal spike. After attatching it the metal pole that had held the mop, he raised it with a two hand grip, point down, over one of the incapacitated bandits.
"Wait Eben," cried Dusty, "You can't just murder a helpless man!"
Eben let go the spear with one hand and placed his fingers on his temple, his eyes closed and a pained expression on his face. "Of course I can!" he growled with increasing volume and frustration. "What exactly did you think the point of rendering him helpless WAS?!"
Dusty stared at Fergus, who was pinning two bandits under his massive paws. and asked, "Is the lion on our side?"
"Yes," snapped Eben, impatiently, "But what do you plan on doing with them then? Leave them to go murder and kidnap some more? Fine by me. Or stay here and guard them if you want, but I'm leaving to get Jabulanth."
"What about the bag?" asked Dusty. And he pointed to Jabulanth's bag, sitting next to the wounded bandits. "Couldn't we stick them where Fergus was imprisoned?"
"What? And risk another accident? Oh no, that space is MINE." Eben crossed his arms. Then a crafty gleam appeared in his eye, and he looked at his fingernails. "Unless ... you want to rent the space..."
"Uh, sure, okay." Dusty agreed, confusedly.
"With interest, of course, since you're not paying me now?" Eben innocently asked.
"Fine, whatever." Dusty muttered, annoyed.
Eben cackled, "Fine then, fine. I don't mind a good deed as long as the interest compounds continuously." He paused and looked thoughtful, and Dusty could almost see him calculating his profit in his head.
Finally satisfied with his calculation, Eben fetched the bag, and one by one,captured each wounded bandit inside the portable hole. He stuffed the black fabric into a compartment in his armor.
Then Fergus roared and looked back them. The great cat started bounding east.
"C'mon Eben, it's this way! There's an old dry sandstone creek bed that runs up to Silver Lake in the hills. It only fills up when it rains." Dusty pointed east at a thin yellow ribbon winding it's way up into the hill country.
Eben gathered his helmet, looked forlornly at his scattered things and promised them, "I'll be back soon." Then the metal-plated man followed the grass-covered bard chasing after the lion toward the yellow creek road.
"Wow," Dusty gaped, looking at the trees. "This must be blue pine grove." The small copse of pine along the north shore of Silver Lake wasn't composed of the scruffy mountain conifers with the blue tinted cones that Dusty was expecting. The needles on the trees themselves were actually blue. A deep flurescent blue. In the light of the glittering stars, the trees almost appeared to glow. He stood between the trees and the lake, gazing up in wonder.
Eben, on the other hand, was unimpressed. He began trampling and breaking his way through the lower branches. "We don't even know if we got here too late! What if Jabulanth has taken the shield and gone? How will I find him now?" he raged.
"I think if a lion was fighting Jabulanth, we would have heard the roaring," Dusty countered. "No matter how far ahead he got."
But Eben did not reply, and Dusty followed the trail of broken branches into the center of the grove. There was a was a large white stone, flat like a table, and tinted blue by the light reflecting off the trees. On top of the stone was eclectic collection of offerings. Flowers, a few wooden figurines, a handful of coins. And in the middle, on top of everything else, was Delamyne's shield.
The grinning bard excitedly examined the mysterious item that was the object of their quest. The image of the red, red rose was face up and the outer rim was inscribed with a ring entwined rose branches, artfully decorated with silver thorns. It was beautiful, but worn. Dusty saw scratches on the front that had not yet developed rust. -It must have had a rough time getting here-, he mused.
Eben was less contemplative. He snatched up the shield and held it up, turning it over and peering intently. "I wonder what's so special? Well, I'll figure it out soon enough." Pressing some unseen button, a collection of colored crystal lenses popped out of his helmet and dropped into position in front of his right eye. With clicks and clacks the lenses popped up and down, letting Eben see through each combination of colors.
Dusty watched Eben work, trying very hard not to bother him with the dozens of questions and comments that were running through his head.
Then Eben's eyes squinted, and he stopped the cycling of colored lenses. "There," he pointed.
Dusty followed his finger to one of the silver thorns. It didn't look special. "I don't see anything."
"I was talking to myself!" Eben snarled. "Now be quiet. I need to confirm the results of the spectroscopy." He reached up now to his helmet and began manually selecting different lenses.
Dusty waited impatiently, listening to the maddening clicks as Eben painstakingly reconstructed the sequence of colored lenses.
"As I thought, a lead silver alloy." Eben finally concluded. He twisted some element on his armor and the crystal lenses retracted.
"That would block the visibility of any magical auras!" Dusty replied exitedly.
"It would also lower the melting point considerably," said Eben. He touched one hand with the other, and pointed a gloved index finger. There was a puff of smoke, and out of the tip of the finger appeared a hot, blue flame.
Eben brought the flame to bear on the leaden thorn, and almost instantly it began to melt. Out of the silvery ooze, a small, very thin piece of silvery white metal emerged. Eben plucked it from the molten lead with his metal-gauntleted fingers and used the flame to clean off any drippings. Then he deactivated the fire, and held up the tiny, mysterious object.
Dusty was facinated. He spoke a single word, and his pupils glowed. And now he could see the tiny piece of metal cloaked in an irridescent flaring green. A sign of powerful transmutation magic. "What is it?" he asked, his voice slow with amazement.
Eben eyed him contemptuously. "That will take time to figure out." No longer interested in Delamyne's shield, the armored investigator tossed it carelessly to the ground. He paced back and force, talking to himself. "I will leave a message for Jabulanth. Yes that's it. Attached to the shield. Then I can exchange whatever this metal shard is for my stolen property. And once my goods are safe, I can finally seek bloody revenge!"
"But Eben," Dusty complained, "Jabulanth can't get his hands on that thing. Whatever he wants with it-"
"Is none of my business!" Eben interrupted. "I'm not here to save the world, I'm here to get my things!"
"But what if it's dangerous?" Dusty complained, "What if-"
"Good grief, you are annoying! I don't care! And I have found the shield, so I no longer need you!" Eben began marching out of the grove. "It's probably something religious," he muttered, mostly to himself. "A shard from a paladin's weapon. A tiny piece of an upper plane. A sliver of a claw from a legendary metallic dragon. The small hole, asymetrically placed on one end, indicates an indeliberate construction."
"A small hole?" Dusty asked. Then he grinned even wider then usual. "Eben wait, I know what it is I know!" The bard began to pace and talk to himself just like Eben had been doing. "It's in the old stories. Some of the oldest stories. Stories about even older stories then that!"
"Well, spit it out!" Eben cried.
"They used to hide secrets in a way that could be unlocked with needle and thread. That's what it is. A sewing needle." Dusty explained radiantly.
"Oh, really." Eben retorted. Then he held up the object, considering it carefully. "Actually you may be right. What did this ancient instruction manual say on how it works?"
Dusty sighed, "It's not an instruction manual, it's a bronze age myth."
"Then what was the point of even bringing it up?" Eben growled. "I will still only know enough to decipher it's function after I complete a thorough study. In the course of which, I would surely have deduced that it is a sewing needle. Therefore, once again, you are useless."
"Look, just let me see it for a minute." Dusty held out his hand.
"One minute. And I'm counting." Eben passed the needle to Dusty. Then he looked annoyed and turned to the side, but kept one eye on the bard.
Dusty looked at the needle and concentrated. He tried to remember everything he could, about the stories of the early Traldar. Before the gnolls invaded. Before Laav was founded. Something about talking animals, that left secrets in cloth. Secrets unlocked by magic needles that wove thread into maps...
Dusty looked down at his worn, light brown shirt. He found a stray thread and put the needle next to it. He felt a tiny tug. Eagerly, he pushed the thread into the needle, but nothing happened.
He tried again with the frayed edge of his dark green cloak, where he had cut out a tiny cloak for the puppet, back at the Shady Dragon. This time the tugging was much stronger. But again, when he threaded the needle, nothing happened. "Maybe I need the right color fabric," Dusty muttered.
"Time's up!" Eben cried, impatiently.
"Yes, indeed, my pets." Jabulanth announced, shimmering into visiblity at the edge of the grove. "Time is up."
Jabulanth grinned at the startled duo across the open space in the middle of the shimmering blue trees.
"Your feline friend took the form of a wolf with a shield, and led me on a merry chase. But by the time the deceiver realizes he is now the deceived, and the half-elf chasing him is only an illusion, it will be too late for him to come to your aid." The half-eared Jabulanth grinned an evil grin.
"I will give you the needle, if you give me my things, thief!" Eben angrily retorted.
Jabulanth frowned a moment, but then he remembered. "Oh that's where I've seen you! The artificer's lackey! Well, well. You've come a long way for nothing. I see no reason for dreary barter, when delightful battle beckons!"
"So be it, worm's meat!" cried Eben, and his crossbow extruded and assembled. The black metal arrow instantly flew forth, but Jabulanth was swifter. Moving faster then anyone could naturally run, he dashed up the side of the tree, as easily as walking on land. The arrow embedded itself in the trunk, a circle of frost emanating over the bark as the infusion futily discharged.
The half-elf now stood casually on the bottom of a large branch, upside down like a bat. He smirked at Eben, "Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me!" and he mockingly puckered his lips.
Enraged, Eben fired his shoulder-mounted crossbow repeatedly, but Jabulanth bobbed bounced and weaved among the blue trees, always a step ahead, or above, or below, laughing crazily with deranged joy, as the arrows whizzed past.
Dusty began to sing from The Song of Halav
Death, flying dragon, over shadowed town, men running helpless.
Bone arrow, long drawn, Zirchev, nature lord, aimed high and death fell.
And Eben, surprised, could almost see the legendary hunter Zirchev aiming his bow at a swift moving target. He saw the vision not like a memory, but like a mess of wires and buttons, to be twisted into a useful form. A craftsman's vision of what and how his work should be, a memory of a thing that has not yet happened. And he saw that he just needed a small adjustment and shot his next arrow slightly to the left.
"Arrgh!" cried Jabulanth as the metal found flesh. The half-elf stared furiously at Dusty. "That's cheating!" Anger twisted his face, and then he vanished again.
"Neat trick," Eben muttered as he activated his lenses and spun around, searching for the invisible target.
Dusty beamed. It was the first nice thing Eben had said to him. It was the first nice thing Eben had said at all. "Well, it's the Thyatian translation, not the original Traladaran, see, but it still-" Dusty started to explain, but Eben was ignoring him again and rushed to the half-elf's last known position.
Dusty was about to follow when he heard a faint, feminine voice. "Dusty Drifter, you are the chosen one!"
"Who's there?" asked Dusty looking right and left.
"I am the Shield of Delamyne, Dusty. You are the chosen one!"
Dusty ran to the shield, still tossed aside where Eben had left it. He picked it up suspiciously.
"Look into the center of the rose Dusty, and I will reveal your true nature!"
Dusty held the shield up to his face, squinting intensely. Then Jabulanth appeared on the ground, on his back, under the shield as his heavy kick to the metal disc dispelled his invisibility again.
The shield smashed Dusty's face and he sprawled backward on the ground.
"Your true nature is being a tool!" laughed Jabulanth.
But Dusty surprised the half-elf by rolling over and leaping at him. Caught off guard, Jabulanth fell to the sudden tackle. "Red, yellow, blue!" Dusty shouted, stabbing at Jabulanth's patchwork outfit with the sewing needle.
"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" Jabulanth shouted. "You prick!"
Dusty paused, considering one of the many colored pieces of fabric stitched together into the half-elf's outfit. "Would you call this one tan, or maybe taupe?"
"Stop spooning, bard, and get out of the way!" Eben cried, a glowing wand pointed at the tangled duo.
Dusty knew Eben wouldn't hesititate on his account, and hurled himself sideways, rolling towards a tree. A few seconds later the fireball exploded and Dusty was knocked still further by the blast. Dazed, and bit singed, he staggered to his feet. Black bits of ... something were raining down in the blue grove.
"Ha!" shouted Eben. "Revenge at last! Even if I never find out what he did with my precious property, it was worth it!"
But then Dusty and Eben heard Jabulanth's evil giggle. "I guess that little contingency spell was worth the money after all."
Then Dusty felt a stabbing in his foot, and he realized the falling black objects were not charred bits of half-elf, they were caltrops. The whole grove was covered in them, and some of them had grown into razor jawed bear traps and tripwires. "Oh boy," Dusty muttered. "This is bad."
"Don't move, Eben, the whole area is covered in traps!" Dusty called out.
"I can see that fool! Get over here and cover my back! We're sitting ducks standing still!" Eben retorted.
"How 'bout you come to me, you being the one with the metal boots and all?" Dusty replied, standing up and trying to see everything metal half-buried in the pine needles.
Eben activated his cycling colored lenses, and carefully scraped his way through the caltrops towards Dusty, looking around for the invisible half-elf. But he saw nothing, and Jabulanth did not speak or act or do anything to reveal himself. "Stand back to back, so he can't surprise us." Eben commanded.
Dusty turned away from Eben and took a step and CLANK! "Aaaagh!" Dusty shouted, "It's in my leg! It's in my leg!" A bear trap that had materialized under the pine needles had snapped shut around Dusty's ankle, the metal jaws cutting deep and drawing blood. It had also caught Ebens foot, although it did not penetrate his metal armor. And now their legs were pinned together.
"This is incredible. Turn around, we have to get clear of these traps!" shouted Eben angrily.
"Aargh!" Dusty cried back, in pain.
"When I say go, start with your left! Go!"
"Ooomph, oh no, OUCH!"
"Grrr. Your other left, fool!"
"Ouch, OUCH, ouch, OUCH, ouch!"
But it was too late. From a behind a tree, a glowing whip streaked out and wrapped around the three-legged pair, then magically tightened, binding them like a lasso. There arms locked tight, Eben and Dusty could only watch as Jabulanth stepped out into the open.
"As much fun as this is, I really do need to destroy that needle now. So, just hand it over," Jabulanth giggled maniacally. He pointed at the restrained hands of Dusty and Eben, like it was the funniest joke he'd ever made.
"I'll be sure to give your regards to your precious possessions when I get around to pawning them off, Mr. Eben... what was it?" Jabulanth asked, mockingly.
"Black," growled Eben.
"Black," Dusty replied brightly. "I still haven't tried black." And he twisted his lips and spit a huge blob of saliva at Eben. The wet splotched on Eben's cheek and slid down into the collar of his armor.
"Wretched minion, you turn on me now? I see your loyalty is as shallow as your intellect!" Eben shouted. But then the needle Dusty had hidden in mouth, reacted to the black fabric Eben wore and began to work it's magic.
"Ick, ack, ook" Eben cried, shaking about in a jerking dance, as something dramatic began to happen inside his full plate.
"Aaagh, arrgh, ouch!" Dusty yelped in counterpoint as Eben's movements twisted the bear trap clamped on their legs, and bumped the caltrops stuck in his hands and feet.
"No, no, NO!" Jabulanth shrieked, as Eben's unraveled garments splurged forth from inside his armor in a languid cloud of black thread.
The silver needle darted about in the air, and in a few seconds, it had woven the thread into a three dimensional cloth raven. Then, the knotted fabric shimmered like liquid, and the cloth raven melted into a real one. The silver needle was in it's beak, and the needle, too, had twisted, now taking the form of a tiny, exquisite, silver key.
"Ha!" shouted Eben again. "You have failed to stop me! My minion has summoned your doom! Destroy him, Black Bird of Woe!"
But the raven, key in beak, simply flew soundlessly away, through the branches and disappeared to the south.
Eben and Jabulanth turned from watching the blackbird's escape, and stared at each other. The half-elf's face was twisted in uncontrollable rage.
"Well this is awkward," muttered Eben.
"Space! Destiny! Reality! These things have no hold on me! Why, why, why, am I always, always wasting time?!" Jabulanth was shouting and pacing back and forth, talking to himself.
Beneath the blue pines, glowing in the starlight in the dark before dawn, his two prisoners struggled uselessly. They were still tied up by Jabulanth's animated rope, and still had a leg each clamped together in the jaws of the bear trap.
"Do you think he forgot about us?" whispered to Dusty to Eben.
"Silence, fool!" Eben hissed back. "I'm trying to think of a way to get untied!"
"You know," Dusty lectured, "as often as you get tied up, you'd think there'd be a gadget or button or something to get untied."
Eben turned angrily and growled through clenched teeth, "If I'd had time to finish the armor before the robbery, I'm sure I'd have a button to deal with all undesired situations. Including this conversation!"
Jabulanth finally heard them and stopped his monologue. "I wish I had the time to kill you the way you deserve to be killed. But I have to go clean up the consequences of your avian textile's unexpected activation."
"Wait," Dusty interrupted. He'd been thinking about what to say. "Only one hourglass ran out before we escaped. You can't kill us. The time isn't right." Dusty looked smugly triumphant.
"Only one, hmmm? Well, I suppose I can kill one of you then, and just maim the other." Jabulanth mused.
"After I heal, I shall avenge your death." Eben stated, matter-of-factly.
"Hey," said Dusty, defensively, "how do you know he's gonna pick me to kill?"
"I can't imagine who wouldn't, given the opportunity." Eben shot back.
"Humans." said Jabulanth, shaking his head sadly. "I can't believe I came out of one of you."
The half-elf's hand drew a twisted dagger, with a horridly sculpted hilt, and he moved toward the two prisoners. He grabbed Dusty's hair and pulled his head up, and put his face so close that their noses touched. The bard's terrified eyes locked with Jabulanth's own. The half-elf's green gaze appeared heavy lidded and almost bored, but his pupils still flickered with anticipation. "I like to see the sand run out. I like to see that exact moment," the he hissed, looking deep into Dusty.
The bard could feel the curved cold of the knife against his throat. His mind was scattered with panic. One part was thinking for a way to get out of the ropes, another part was thinking of some magic words to say to Jabulanth to stop or delay his execution, and a third part was, absurdly, thinking of how he would tell the story of his narrow escape back at the inn. And realizing how much effort he'd wasted, putting this silly, foolish journey into words in his head already, he laughed.
At this sound, Jabulanth stepped back, and lowered the dagger. He looked confused and frustrated. "Facinating," he said. "you are useless." Ignoring Eben, he turned and walked away, out of the grove.
Halfway to the lake he vanished midstep, and the glowing ring of rope around Eben and Dusty vanished as well. The conjured traps and caltrops faded back into the magical energy from which they were made. They were free.
Eben looked confused for a moment, but then he recovered his composure. "Well, I see my hypothesis on your competence is supported by other observers."
But Dusty ignored him, still shaken by his close call. He went over, limping, and picked up Delamyne's shield and just looked at it for a moment. It was almost sunrise, and there was a faint glow in the east. Was it worth it, this night? This shield?
Dusty was suddenly tired and frustrated. He didn't understand what had happened, what the black bird meant, why Jabulanth hadn't killed him, and why Milla was still mad. And thinking of Milla, he felt homesick, and the much-too-short uncomfortable cot in the kitchen of the Shady Dragon seemed like the best place in the entire world.
But then he thought again of that strange silver needle. Slowly, his curiousity returned, and with it his fear and nervousness melted. And he needed to know. He needed to know how the story ended. He looked up at Eben who was marching out of the grove of blue trees.
"Well?" Eben queried, "Are you coming?"
"You still need me?" asked Dusty, surprised.
"Of course, my books may have scattered in the wind, and I need someone to gather them, and someone to carry them. This isn't over yet! Besides, you owe me money on your rental space."
"Ohmygosh, Eben, the guys in the portable hole! They probably need fresh air by now!" Dusty cried.
"Well that sounds like a good deed, and that means I'll have to charge you another fee. With interest of course."
"Of course," sighed Dusty.
Eben twisted around, to get to the piece of magic fabric, and then cried, "Pinching! Chafing! Freezing! This armor was not meant to be worn without undergarments!"
"Well, well," Dusty grinned, "I just happen to have a potion of barkskin on me."
"Give it to me at once!" ordered Eben.
"First let's talk about my interest rate," countered Dusty.
Eben looked at the bard appraisingly, with one eyebrow raised. "Perhaps you are not a lost cause after all, my young minion."
And Dusty still grinning, felt his spirits rising with the sun.
