On the ground at Chorrol's feet was a thick rug of feathers. Chickens pressed together, stabbing the ground with pinpoint strikes to catch the grain that the boy threw in a number of flourishing displays. Standing nearby was Lorelai with her own bag in hand, adding its contents to the pile.
At first she was hesitant about letting him leave the bed but he was restless, eager to do his part. After much insistance she let him undertake some of the tasks less demanding on the body. Fortunately he seemed content.
"Do not look so worried."
Lorelai started, shunted from her thoughts and realised she had been staring. She took a handful from the bag. "Tis my job."
"No it isn't," he said with a sly grin. "You're a housewife."
Her eyed widened in shock and threw her handful at him, grain scattered across his person. "You little rapscallion! You see my house nearby?" she shook her head and huffed. "Housewife I say."
Chorrol laughed as he brushed the remnants of his mother's projectile. He looked over from those surrounding him to a group of chicks that huddled together. His cheerful demeanor fell as he watched them.
"They don't have a mother," he observed.
Caught off-guard by his comment, Lorelai faltered. She kept her tone light. "Well, mayhaps she is somewhere nearby."
Chorrol shrugged. "Mayhaps she got eaten. Everything is food for something else."
Her face fell, horrified as her son went back to tossing about the grain, as though what he had uttered was as trivial as stating the sun would rise. It rendered her deeply shaken.
Some distance from the two Pitra exited the small chicken coop with one of the fowls in her arms. She looked over to them wearily, watching. Though they were nice and she had no words for her gratitude for their aid, these were simple folk. They would not understand life on a wealthy estate.
She began her trek along the path that wound its way around the farm, running through the exhaustive list of tasks in her head. Though many were handled already thanks to the visitors there was still much to do. The water troughs were to be filled, the cows would be ready to milk any day now, gather vegetables and herbs from the garden, be sure to collect extra healing items for their accident-prone visitors, brush and prepare the horses for riding and bring food to the undead.
It had been a few days now so they would be getting hungry. Three fowls should be enough to sate them for now. Be sure to snap the legs so they can catch them easily or risk a repeat of last time. Place into a bag and wheel them in a barrow. She had learned to put the pained cries from her mind but it was difficult at times.
She carried out the chores with ease, body moving on its own accord, driven by muscle memory as her mind wandered to other things. By the end of the day she left the barn, clapping debris from her hands.
All in a day's work.
...
"Can you be more obvious?"
Gelnen started, his nerves jerked in surprise as he snapped his head from the eyeglass in his hands, trained on the walker-filled barn.
Mage stood beside him, basket under her arm filled to the brim with peaches. She held out one to him. "Here. Enjoy."
He took the peach from her hands and studied it with furrowed brow. He looked up. "You try to buy my silence with fruit?"
Mage rolled her eyes. "Clearly not." She smiled. "There's also jerky."
There was no humour to be found in the elf. He glanced about him and lowered his voice. "Would you kindly tell me why your father has a secret barn of walkers? It's... well, ghoulish, if you would pardon the pun." Mage's raised palms and shushes fell on deaf ears. "You are aware of this, I'm sure."
"Just trust me on this, okay?"
"But I am atrocious at lying. I can't even keep a surprise party hidden. There was this one time..."
"Just trust me on this," she pleaded. "You must. I beg you."
Mage handed the basket to him, gave him a pleading look and left. Gelnen let out a long, frustrated sigh. First Lorelai and now Mage. When did he, of all people, become the harbinger of dangerous secrets?
As he neared the ox-cart Gelnen plucked a fruit from the surprisingly heavy basket. Dall and Ty-Varaz were there and he approached them.
"Dall, I have some peaches for you."
"Oh, well, thank you kindly."
Dall plucked it from his hand and Gelnen pulled forth another and handed it to Ty-Varaz who graciously accepted it.
"An how'r ye?" he asked, biting into the succulent flesh.
Gelnen's heart quickened. "Me? I'm fine. Perfectly fine. Why would you ask that?"
Ty-Varaz stared at him in surprise, juice trickling into his beard. Dall too looked at him with curiosity. Gelen was suddenly aware of what had happened, winced, and quickly fled without a word, leaving the two to exchange bewildered glances.
Dar stared up blankly at the fabric of his tent where the ceiling closed to a point. His head still ached under the cloth that wrapped around it but he was glad at least the bleeding stopped. In his hands was a crossbow bolt, spinning and twirling around his fingers. He lay on his back with his head rested on Harley's torso who lazed in a semi circle, hind legs stretched out, head resting on his front paws. Dar was bored but he had learned even before the plague, boredom meant safety and, with the ordeal he went through, he welcomed that moment of boredom.
From under his head Harley's skin vibrated as he let out a low, warning growl. The dire wolf lifted his head towards the front tent. When Dar turned his own he saw Anderea walk stiffly towards them. He held out a hand to reassure the wolf who settled reluctantly as she stopped just outside. His eyes never left her.
"Hi," she said quietly, staring at the ground. She lifted her hand to show him a small book in her hands. "I got you this. It isn't very good, but..."
Dar sat up and beckoned to her. She gingerly stepped inside and Dar could feel Harley tense but he knew enough not to attack unprovoked. She reached out, fully extending her arm and he took it from her. Opening the book he looked through it while Anderea sat on the floor on the opposite side of the tent far away from his animal companion. She was right, he observed. Poor sentence structure, more than a few egregious spelling mistakes and commas thrown about haphazardly with no thought or care for their function. It was enough to drive one mad.
He looked up at her and frowned. "What, no pictures?"
She laughed softly at that, grateful that some of the tension was dispelled. "I also got you this." She placed a potion of bright red on the ground and pushed it forward as much as she dared. "The potion of Cure Serious Wounds that Shaan brought back with the wand. The wound is rather serious, I thought you'd have use of it."
Dar grunted. "Save it when someone needs it urgently. I have the time to recover naturally."
She pulled her knees to her chest. "Dar, I..." she stopped and let out a sigh. "I'm so sorry. I feel awful."
He closed the book and placed it next to him. "Aye, you and me both."
"I don't expect you to forgive me but if there is anything I can do..."
"You were trying to protect the group. I hold no ill will."
Anderea was taken aback. He was shot in the head and he didn't begrudge her. It was touching in it's own morbid way.
She stared at her hands picking at her fingernails. "I wish I could say that were true. That I was merely protecting our camp."
Dar's brow knitted. "What do you mean?"
"Rillick, he..." she swallowed, "he told me stand down. Ordered me to. But I didn't listen. I was too proud, too stubborn. I didn't want to be treated like... like a woman." She knelt forward as her words tumbled out. He didn't want to hear this, she told herself, but she continued regardless. "As if my place was not to protect the camp from threat but to wash and mend clothes or cook meals over a fire like Lorelai and Cralo does. I wanted to show them, prove to them that I was strong, but instead I..." once again, she trailed off as she gestured limply at him. "Maybe they're right. Maybe I was never meant to take up arms. Maybe I should leave that to... the men."
There was a long silence between the two. Anderea felt ashamed, moreso than she ever felt, spewing her emotions upon the man she had wounded, the one who suffered for her arrogance.
Dar grunted humourously. "Well, if that's what you think then maybe you do."
She looked up with furrowed brow. "I'm sorry?"
He looked over to her. "If you feel the need to earn the admiration of others then maybe you do deserve to scrub floors and bake bread." He watched amusedly at her confused face. "You are quite handy with a bow. You managed to shoot me, in the head no less, from that far away, just imagine what you could do with a little training." He shrugged, picked up the book and opened it on the first page. "Or don't. Do what you want but don't do it because you want respect. If you're good, respect will come to you. If you're not then it won't. Take it from me. I know a thing or two about perceptions based on how I look."
Anderea sat, stunned at Dar's speech. He seemed so casual about it, as if he was instructing someone on how to tie a knot or relaying a recipe from memory. His words, however, helped to lift her heavy heart.
"Thank you," she said warmly, but Dar was stuck into his book, occasionally wincing as he did so.
She let him be, picked up the potion and made her exit.
"Hey!" Dar called out to her.
She turned.
"Shoot me again and you'd best pray I'm dead."
Whether he was serious or not she couldn't say but she grinned regardless and gave a sharp nod.
Lorelai sat crouched over the campfire, stirring a pot of stewed meat. The luxuries of the previous night were a welcome change of pace but now it's back to rabbits, squirrels and wild mushrooms. Joy of joys, she thought.
There was the crunching sound of boot on dry earth. When she glanced up she saw Gelnen, a basket half empty of peaches. He placed it a close distance behind her and turned to her. Her nerves shot and she grew tense. Though he didn't say anything yet she knew what he would say.
"What did Rillick say?" he asked, confirming her suspicions. When she didn't respond he was given her answer. "You didn't tell him?" he exclaimed, and lowered himself, standing with bent knees. "But you must. You need remedies or at the very least a nice pillow."
Lorelai did her best to ignore him though she knew he would persist.
"Here," he said. When she looked up he held out a handful of beef jerky to her. "You can have my share."
"Honey, I do not want your food. Eat."
Gelnen shook his head. "It is you who needs to eat. You are much too scrawny and if you refuse to let Rillick care for you then someone must." She turned away from him, focusing back to the pot. "Lorelai, you have a condition." She looked back up at him with a stubborn glare and he sighed in frustration. "I'll make another journey into town. Tell me what you need."
He was determined to make the situation difficult for her. His kindness and concern does him credit but it grated on her nerves. If only he knew why she held her tongue, why she didn't simply tell Rillick with elation like she so longed to do. But it couldn't come to that. He had a keen mind, her husband, and he would connect the dots if he were to know. The truth would be revealed, Shaan would catch wind of it and their family and the friendship between the two would be ruined. She could not let that happen.
"I need you to be quiet about this," she said to him. "Please."
"Hey, peach-man!"
Shaan shouted over to them from the ox cart not far away. Gelnen reluctantly stood up and continued his deliveries. That did not go the way he had hoped. Now still he harboured two big secrets. It would only be a matter of time before his resolve broke and he did not want to be the cause of that aftermath. Women truly were a strange, and frustrating, breed.
"The river flows south, past the farmhouse Dar found."
On a stripped patch of dirt Rillick knelt over the pair of maps, studying their etchings. With him was Shaan, none too eager to continue the search. The young Gimley sat opposite the two, knees up to his chest. Rillick could guess from his pained expression that Herrasil had some choice words for him.
He continued. "My theory is the strip of Salpha's dress was torn here and then caught by the river rocks."
"So you think she traveled this road to the east?"
He nodded. "I do. What's in that direction?"
"The northern fringes of the High Moor," Gimley said hesitantly, "there is a small village there, I'm not sure what the name is."
Rillick scratched the hairs on his chin. "We should search these areas after weapon training. I shall remain here, hold down the fort. Shaan, I would like you to take another with you. After the incident with Dar I will not have anyone going alone."
He hummed in thought. "Any suggestions?"
"See how they fare in training then take you can pick."
Gelnen joined them shortly, going to each of them in turn. They each took a fruit but Shaan noticed something off about the elf's demeanor. He seemed tense. Rillick too spied this and looked quizzically at him. He stared ahead at something in the distance, then turned and fled.
Shaan and Rillick glanced at each other in amused confusion. When he looked over to where Gelnen stared, Lorelai stood at the top of the hill. Before he could question what had happened, however, two people approached him: Pitra and her daughter Bell.
"We would like to join you for weapons training today," said Bell.
Rillick fought against his instincts, and addressed the women in turn. "Herrasil made it quite clear to me. I cannot involve any of you in what we do without his say so."
"He doesn't care for it," Bell replied, "but he allowed it."
"Though more of a bowman, Ortus was the only one out of us who knew how to wield a blade," Pitra explained. "Now that he's gone we must defend ourselves. He sees the sense in that."
Rillick shook his head. Tension was already high between he and the old farmer. He could not afford to take anything to chance. "Be that as it may, I mean no offense, my ladies, but I shall ask Herrasil myself."
Having sensed there was no reason to linger further, Shaan made his exit. He saw Chorrol standing nearby in his father's cloak. The sigil of Balder's Gate shivered against the soft breeze. His arm was retreated back, obscured by the cloth.
"The cloak suits you," said Shaan as he approached. "How fares you?"
Chorrol rounded on him, his face crossed with determination. "I want to fight. Can you teach me?"
He smiled as he leant on the back of the cart. "Well, my little friend, that is up to your parents."
"Can you talk to them? I know they'll listen to you."
He frowned, contemplative, and hummed. "We shall see."
His eyes were drawn to the fold of the cloak. It framed something pressing against it from the inside, his hand clearly fidgeting. A wave of dread came to him. "Let me see what you have under your cloak."
Chorrol started and he stared unblinking at him. Slowly and guiltily he drew back the cloak to reveal a sword at his belt. Shaan drew a deep breath, fighting down his emotions as he fixed a hard stare at him.
"Come," he said simply, and strode towards the campfire.
Later, Shaan stood with Rillick and Dall as a livid Lorelai shoved the shortsword into its scabbard.
"How did this happen?" she said, storming up to the two.
Chorrol sat on a chair by the fire, fingering the edges of his cloak, staring at the ground.
"The fault is mine," said Dall. "I let him into the cart. He said he was going to check on the doves, that you sent him."
Lorelai stared at Dall in irate shock. "So, on top of everything else, he lied?" her angered gaze fell towards Chorrol who dispassionately kicked at the dirt. "What was he thinking?"
"He wishes to learn how to fight," said Shaan. "He asked me to teach him." He paused, shuffling nervously under Lorelai's presence. "Now, it is none of my concern but I am happy to do it." As she shot him a withering look he added quickly, "it's your decision, of course."
"Well, I for one am not comfortable with it."
"Now don't you make me out as the unreasonable one." She turned to her husband. "Rillick?"
Rillick nodded slowly. "I know. I, too, have my concerns."
She visibly relaxed as some amount of relief brushed over her.
"However..."
She gaped, fury returning in full force, this time directed at Rillick. "However? There is no 'however' about it!" she shot. "He was struck by an arrow mere days ago. He's only now back on his feet and now he wants to go swinging around a weapon?"
Rillick raised a hand diplomatically. "Better that than to be afraid of them. We harbour many blades in our inventory, he would do well to learn how to handle them safely."
"I will not have my child walking about with a blade in his hand!" she snapped.
"How can you defend that?" Rillick parried. "You would have him wander about without means to defend himself?"
"He is as safe as he'll ever be right here!" There was a pause and Lorelai calmed. With a heavy sigh she spoke again. "Look, all that you say makes complete sense. It just feels wrong. I didn't feel great with him following you into the forest and I wish I went with my instincts and said something."
Rillick looked into his wife's eyes. He could see her resolve weaken, but so too was his own. He was surprised to hear she had concerns that day. She seemed positively happy to allow Chorrol to come with him. If that were true then her fears were well founded. Regardless, it would do him well if he were trained.
"He is growing into manhood, thank the gods," he said, more to himself than her. "It would behoove us all to start treating him as such."
"Then he needs to start acting like one," she snapped. "He is much too young to take up arms."
"I won't play with it, mother."
They turned. Chorrol stood before them, straight-backed, head held high. "It is not a toy. I'm sorry I lied and took a sword without your knowledge but I want to find Salpha and I want to defend our camp. I cannot do this unarmed."
He fixed both his parents with a serious gaze. One that rendered even Lorelai lost for words. Rillick could not see a hint of doubt in his eyes. His cloak encircled around him like a shield, an aura that matched his courage. Rillick turned to Lorelai.
"Shaan is the best teacher I know. I've seen him teach those much younger than Chorrol."
Lorelai glanced between he and Chorrol. Thoughts warred inside her mind. Finally she approached him and presented a raised finger.
"You will take this seriously and behave responsibly and if I hear even a breath that you are not living up to expectations..."
"He won't let you down," said Rillick, more a warning to Chorrol than an assurance for Lorelai.
His determined stare never wavered. "Aye."
Lorelai stepped back, fighting the sinking feeling she harboured. She could only prey this would not go awry.
Later, everyone hoisted themselves up onto horses, some on their own but some in pairs such as Cralo and Anderea astride Cralo's dapple grey, Cherrykeeper. Bell swung herself onto a steel grey, one Rillick recognised as one Ortus owned. Floo, he recalled, though he wasn't good at remembering horses' names if his misremembering Cherrykeeper's was anything to go by. As expected, Shaan was out front astride Highlander, his prized grey.
Rillick climbed into the saddle of a bay that he didn't know the name of and was immediately struck with a heavy sense of loss. He hoped that, wherever Mrrl was, he at least treated Fjord well.
Chorrol walked up to him as he settled himself into the saddle. He reached down and clasped the boy's wrist, lifting him onto the horse.
"Now listen. If we are to do this you must heed Shaan's every word," said Rillick firmly to him as he shifted into a comfortable position in front of him.
"Yes, father."
"You must take the utmost care."
"Yes, father."
From the front Shaan turned Highlander and noticed Gelnen standing apart from them. "You coming?" he called.
Gelnen waved his hand in a declining manner. "I have to help Dall groom Ara and Evee. He said he would teach me animal care. I should go look for him."
"You found me."
He stiffened, his shoulders tensed. He turned slowly around to see the beastmaster himself looking at him in confusion. He tried to speak but all came out was a choking sound. The man being directly behind him was not part of his otherwise excellent ploy.
After one last questioning look, Dall turned to Shaan. "He learns well."
Whether or not Shaan was keen on the sun elf missing out on sword training for learning the finer points of animal care he did not express. He merely shrugged and drove himself and the others onward.
As the two watched them shrink into the distance, Dall sidled up to him. Gelnen turned and was about to thank him but he beat him to it.
"So, I am to teach you beastmastery am I?" he said. "Mind telling me what this is about?"
Gelnen coughed nervously, fidgeting with his hands. "You're old, well, you're not, at all, barely a child, in fact, but for your species..."
He trailed off when he met Dall's impatient expression.
"Sorry," he said quietly. "What I mean is... you know things. So, and this is purely hypothetical, what if somebody were to tell you something that somebody else ought to know but..."
"For the love of Tyr, Gelnen, cease your ramblings and spit it out!"
"There's walkers in the barn and Lorelai's pregnant!"
Dall's eyes widened in shock. As did Gelnen's.
...
"Low guard! High guard! Parry, right torso!"
A wide row of bodies stood shoulder to shoulder, shortsword in each hand as they moved in unison to Shaan's instructions. At least to the best of their current ability.
Rillick stood back, hand resting on the pommel of his own sword as Shaan continued to bark out orders for those to follow. A whirl of blades arced amateurishly as their wielders entered the poses set out for them. Rillick could see, at the very least, they were much better than they were an hour ago.
He found himself, however, rather than focused on the trainees, keeping an eye on Shaan, watching wearily as he underwent his teachings. It was as though he was waiting for something, for him to do something but he knew not what.
Shaan paced authoritatively in front of the line, hands clasped behind his back. "Swordplay is much more about footwork than the placement of your weapon. Adopt a weak stance and you'll find yourself on the ground faster than you can blink. Mid guard!"
Everyone brought their arms up, resting the flat of the blade on their free hand's forearm.
"Keep your feet apart, knees bent, hips turned. Strike, right head!"
They swung their sword in a circle around their head and struck high.
While those present were no guardsmen or militia they were effective enough for Rillick to stride forward to Shaan's side.
The minutes dragged on.
"...Next, I will be showing you the most basic and most widely used formation of frontline defense, the shield wall. Form a line, shields in front. Your shield not only protects yourself but the person next to you. Hold your stance."
Soon enough everyone held a shield in their hand, stacked upon one another, swords rested on the tops of their shields.
Shaan continued. "With this formation there is no need for theatrics with your swordplay. Thrust out with your weapon and withdraw. Let your enemy come to you."
Rillick took the lead, breaking the class into two groups, one being the shield wall while the other acted as the walkers. This exercise doubled as an opportunity for he and Shaan to strategise. It was simple enough. Lead the walkers towards the middle while encircling them, a standard method that they used on an uncoodinated undead horde. The tricky part was the added caveat that the attacks must be directed towards the head. This was a cause for concern considering how small a target it was. Indeed, so much of his own decades of training and experience with combat had to be revised to deal with this new enemy. Drastic changes to one's battle tactics had been nothing new to the Watch, fighting kobolds or gibberlings demanded a vastly different approach to fighting orcs or ogres but walkers had the element of numbers and each one could only be felled by a strike to the head.
Soon, when the two were satisfied with the battleline, the exercise was over and the last leg of training commenced. Shaan split people into pairs to spar and practice what they had learned. The constant ringing and scraping of steel on steel reminded Rillick why they decided to conduct their training so far from camp. The walkers would surely hear them.
"Come now lad," Rillick heard Ty-Varaz say to his sparring partner Gimley, "Enough 'o' that sword dancin' crap."
While some began to grasp the basics others were slower. Namely Anderea, who's frustration grew. It reached a new height as she walked straight into Cralo's Fool's Guard for the third time. With her sword inches from her chest she let out a throaty sigh.
"Do not be discouraged," said Shaan, laying a comforting hand on her tense shoulder. "You'll figure it out."
Anderea threw her shortsword on the ground in a huff, spun on her heel and marched away. Rillick and Shaan glanced at each other in surprise.
Whether or not he would've assumed she was so flustered that she quit, Rillick had no time to do so, for she stopped at the pile of weapons a short distance away and scooped up the shortbow that lay there and a single arrow. She stood there, silent, staring at the weapon. Suddenly she spun around and there was a sharp hiss that sounded in Rillick's ear followed by a thunk. Anderea stood motionless, bow raised, the other at her ear, her two fingers pointed outward.
As his mind began to catch up to the events that just transpired, Rillick turned slowly around. There, in a wooden shield that leant upright on a fencepost, was an arrow stuck dead in the center.
He turned back to her, eyes wide. He looked over at Shaan who boasted the same shocked expression.
Anderea beamed. "Who said I haven't already?"
Shaan's expression turned into that of contemplation. He walked over to the weapon pile and picked up the longbow and beckoned her. She bounded over.
"Try this one," said Shaan, giving her the bow. "It has a lot of resistance on the string but you get better range and penetration."
Taking it into her hands she pulled back on the string, getting a feel for the bow. Shaan handed her an arrow while Rillick took the struck shield and leant it on the fence post a fair distance away.
Anderea could see what the guards set her to do. She inhaled, nocked, pulled back the string. Dar's words sounded in her mind. If she was good there was no need to prove herself. Exhale. If she was good, respect will come.
Adjusting for height, adjusting for wind...
The bowstring snapped forward with a twang and the arrow hurtled through the air at blinding speed. The shield suddenly shot into the air and landed. Once again, in the perfect center, an arrow was embedded.
Anderea heard a sound from behind her. Turning, she saw what it was. Everyone had gathered round to watch her and now they were clapping. They were clapping for her. She grinned and gave a bow.
Rillick joined in on the applause, impressed. He looked over to Shaan who regarded her with an appraising eye.
"Well, how about that," Shaan said with a chuckle. "We had a marksman in our midst this whole time."
"Perhaps that is not a bad idea," said Rillick, "to have some ranged support."
Shaan hummed in thought and made his way towards her.
"Alright, theatrics are over, back to your sparring," he ordered, and everyone peeled away. "How does it feel?" he asked her.
She looked over the bow in her hands. "I like it. There's some good strength behind it." She looked up at him, head tilted to the side appraisingly. "You seem different," she said, "calmer over the last few days. There's no longer that anger in your eyes anymore." Her head tilted to the other side. "I wonder what happened?"
He stood still and silent, gaze baring into her. If only you knew, he thought. If only you knew.
She shrugged it off. "Well, I'm glad you decided not to leave at least." With that she left.
Shaan looked over the sparring grounds. Chorrol entered his sights, exchanging blows with Rillick, a proud grin on his face with each parry and counter attack he successfully executed.
"Excellent form, son," he heard Rillick say.
The world collapsed around him in a blur. His fist clenched tight as the tendrils of rage began to seep into him, consuming his every thought. Blood pulsed in his ears, his skin grew hot.
He clamped shut his eyes and took a breath. In an instant the tendrils receded and the world came back to focus.
Now was not the time, he told himself. Not yet.
...
The stable carried a thick musk of horse manure and sweat mixed with hay. A smell almost unbearable to most but to a beastmaster like Dall it carried a great deal of nostalgia. He crossed the dim lit hallway of empty stalls either side to the only one still occupied. There sat Herrasil on a stool, brushing the coat of a magnificent looking chestnut stallion. Dall took a moment to admire it.
"That's a fine looking horse," said Dall.
"That he is," Herrasil replied. "I call him Chivalry. He is my most prized steed."
Dall walked forward and placed his forearms on the railing. He needed to approach this delicately, make it sound like no one told him but not explain too much or it will sound fake.
"I like your fields," he decided upon. "I ended up by the barn." Herrasil froze, waiting. Dall added, "I heard the moans."
There was a pause, a long, tense silence that grew between them.
"That is unfortunate," he said at last, and resumed brushing Chivalry.
Dall stifled a sigh of relief. It appeared he didn't suspect anything. "I'm sure you have your reasons for keeping this a secret."
He grunted in acknowledgement. "I have seen the irrational fear, the atrocities, such as the incident at my well."
He looked back to that time. "We had slain a walker," he said, unsure of what he was getting at.
"You killed a person."
He frowned, confused. "Surely you've seen these walkers attack, kill. They're monsters, undead.
Herrasil stopped and turned to face him. He dug into his shirt and pulled forth an amulet in the shape of a blooming rose. Chauntea's holy symbol. "With this I can cast Turn Undead but when I used it on your so-called 'walkers' it did not work. That means they are not undead. If they are not undead, they are not dead. If they are not dead then they are alive."
"With all due respect," said Dall with little respect, "you haven't seen what we've seen cut off from the world as you are. I've seen people suffer mortal, lethal, wounds and die without a shadow of a doubt and come back. Now, what you say is, indeed, true. We have learned during our travels that they, in the most technical sense, are not undead, but they are certainly not alive."
"My wife and stepson are in that barn." Herrasil's voice was sharp, warning. "They are people and they live still."
Dall backed away from his smoldering gaze and held out his hands diplomatically. "My apologies. Allow us to help. I'll speak to Rillick. He's a good man. We can make the barn more secure, keep everybody safe."
"The barn is secure," his voice was as calm as always but the ire was not lost on Dall. "Keep this to yourself if you wish to help." Dall opened his mouth to speak but Herrasil silenced him with a raised hand. "Rillick is a man of conscience, that is true, but are you so sure of everyone in your party?"
He was about to tell him no, that no one was untrustworthy, that everyone in their party was of sound morals. He was, however, struck with the realism that, no, he wasn't sure. Not everyone was so worthy of trust. One in particular came immediately to mind.
Shaan brought his shortsword up and Anderea's blade slid harmlessly down the edge of his. Next thing she knew she felt steel touch the side of her neck.
"Your stance is wrong. Again."
He disengaged with a whirl of his sword and kicked her feet into the right place.
"I don't understand this venture," said Anderea with growing agitation. "I have shown to you I can use a bow." She managed to swing twice before Shaan somehow held the edge of his sword to her head between the eyes.
"You think the walkers will keep their distance? What if you run out of arrows or are indoors where a bow is useless? Again!"
They retreated back to their stance. She moved in with a thrust but Shaan spun out of the way and he was behind her, grasping firmly her shoulder and his sword across her throat. She let out a frustrated growl.
"Do I vex you?" she felt his breath on the side of her neck. He released her and she stumbled forward, turned and once again brought her sword up. Shaan circled her. "Come, girl, you have walkers all around you. They're in the forest. Inside the cart. You think a bow alone can save you?"
"Stop badgering me!"
He pointed to her with his sword. "You're too emotional. You need curb your emotions." He made a fist over his chest. "Take all the guilt, the fear, the insecurity, rid yourself of them."
"Because you're so bloody calm all the time."
His glare stopped her heart as he bore down on her. In the span of a jiffy he batted her sword away and pressed the edge of his under her chin. "See that?" his voice sounded like it could grind wheat. "I can be angry. I can be positively livid and I will always strike true. But you, by Tyr, you fight like a girl."
Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her shortsword as the edges of Anderea's vision began to blur. Anger swelled as his words dug into her like so many hot knives. Shaan disengaged, demeanor gone in an instant, and strode back to his starting position.
"Knees bent, step forward as you strike. Do not think of it. Muscle memory, girl, instinct." His voice progressed in volume until he was shouting. "Now strike me!"
Even a moment's hesitation was a mistake. Shaan charged forward and swung his sword wildly at her in a flurry of movement. She desperately blocked his blows. Panic overwhelmed her as she backed away, desperate to put some distance between her attacker but he kept moving forward.
"He's coming for you! He will rend the flesh from your bones, tear you limb from limb!" Shaan hollered like a man possessed. "I'm the walker, right here, the walker who killed Amee now you strike me down! Strike me down!"
Anderea's heel caught the protruding root of a tree and she fell, sprawling on the ground. Shaan stood over her, eyes wild, but he ceased his assault and lowered his sword. She stared up at him, eyes filled with shock, hurt and betrayal. With every muscle shaking with adrenaline she picked herself, and her sword, off the ground and stormed off without another word.
She had spoke too soon at the training ground. He was just as wrathful as ever. It was merely that now he was able to hide it. At least, it seemed, until now.
... ... ...
The piercing clang of hammer and nail grew louder as Lorelai drew near to Herrasil who was hunched over a newly constructed stretch of fence. She leant her arms on the wooden surface but the gentleman farmer seemed not to notice.
"Afternoon," she said.
He looked up, glanced at her then back down to his work. "I take it your boy did well."
"Not bad at all. In fact he wants to take up arms."
He laughed, a deep, resonating sound from the back of his throat. "Be grateful you don't have a daughter. If only things were as simple as just wanting to fight."
"Chorrol is getting that chance, thanks to you." She bowed her head to him. "You have my eternal gratitude for what you did and your hospitality. I assure you we'll earn our keep."
Herrasil stiffened and looked up at her with a polite smile. "I appreciate that but with Chorrol getting better I imagine you'll be moving on soon. Berdusk, so I hear, to see the Harpers."
He returned to his task, dismissing Lorelai completely, leaving her reeling over what he had said. How nonchalant he seemed to be. Does he not know? Does he have no notion of the horrors that were out there?
She left. She didn't know what else to do.
Shortswords were all present save for two in Shaan's possession: Six longswords, two spears discluding Dall's, a longbow and shortbow. Rillick was satisfied. All weapons were accounted for.
He looked up from his examination as Lorelai approached.
She spoke in a hushed voice. "Is it true Herrasil expects us to leave?" Rillick made no reply for he didn't need to. The silence between them was enough. "Does anybody else know?"
"Not yet."
"When? How long have you known about this?"
Rillick raised his hands diplomatically. "Not long. There is no need to fret over this."
"How can you expect me not to fret over this?" she snapped. "We have shelter here, food, water, medicine."
"I've been talking with Herrasil. It is not set in stone," he said, doing his best to keep his growing agitation.
"He clearly thinks it is," she hissed, then sighed and looked to the ground in contemplation. "We have to remedy this. Folks are settling in here. They'll be devastated."
"I am aware and am working on it."
"Perhaps I can talk to him too," Lorelai offered, "plead our case."
Rillick held up his palm. "No. Things are uneasy as of late. The best thing we can do is give Herrasil his space."
There was an uneasy silence between them and they held one another's gaze. Rillick's face fell and he took an involuntary step back.
"Don't look at me like that." His voice was shaky.
Lorelai frowned. "Like what?"
"Like you're scared. That you don't trust me. I can endure it from everyone else but not from you."
She shook her head. "I don't understand how you could keep something like this from me. Chorrol is barely on his feet, Salpha is missing and Dar and Ty-Varaz are hurt. How can we simply leave?"
"It's not what I want either," Rillick pleaded, "but if we must go I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you and Chorrol are okay." His hands cupped either side of Lorelai's face. "We will prevail. We will."
She said nothing, staring up into his intense gaze, the love, the determination that shone and pierced into her soul. His strong, calloused hands held a promise as they held her still. There was no doubt in her mind he meant every word.
"Okay," she whispered, and the tension Rillick held visibly released him.
... ... ...
Shaan's hands gripped the reins tightly in the hope of stopping them from shaking. He was careless, he let his guard down and the rage boiled to the surface. It was a miracle he even managed to fight it, pulled it back and calm himself. Even now, however, he could feel its dormant embers.
Beyond him down the path he saw Anderea and Shaan could feel the tension from thus far. He kicked Highlander to a canter and caught up to her, slowing to a trot.
"Allow me to offer you a ride at least," he said.
"My feet work perfectly fine." Anderea's tone was cold and dismissive. She kept her gaze to the front.
He sighed. "See here, I was just trying to light a fire under you, to give you an idea when the hells break free."
"Is that an apology?"
Shaan allowed a lull in their conversation before speaking again. "I should've held my tongue upon bringing Amee into it. Aye, it is an apology."
She huffed. "You're a true ass at times."
He grunted amusedly. "I acknowledge that. Tell you what, I have tidings of Salpha and where she may be. I'm to take my search there." He gave the most comforting smile he could muster. "Come with me, be my companion. We'll return to camp, pick up a bow of your choosing and head southeast to The High Moor. We might even pass Secomber, or what's left of it."
For some time Anderea continued her way down the path in silence. Though her ire towards him was still at its peak his offer was tempting.
In the end, for Salpha's sake, she told herself, she stopped and turned to him. She said nothing but her intent was clear. When Shaan extended his hand a second time she accepted it and together they rode back to camp.
As Lorelai reached the campfire a vile stench collided with her senses. The smell stirred the contents of her stomach and she turned, making a beeline towards a fallen log. She retched but she kept it down, sitting stiffly on the log as her stomach convulsed.
Dall sat on a low stool nursing a rabbit stewing in a skillet over the fire. He looked up and watched Lorelai, sensing the perfect opportunity. Indeed, it was so exquisitely timed and set up he would be foolish not to take it.
"My wife was pregnant once."
Lorelai started and looked up. The old beastmaster stood beside her, weathered face sculpted in that gentle smile of his.
"It was a failed birth. We never tried again after that."
"I'm sorry," said Lorelai.
"What I remember most is how nauseated she became at the smell of cooked meat. She was a big lass, my wife, being a blacksmith and all, so her diet had no short amount of it but when she was with child she simply couldn't stomach it. One time I cooked a wild turkey given to us by the local huntsman and she couldn't remain in the house two days until every breath of the smell was gone, poor girl."
"Gelnen told you did he not?"
Dall fell silent and pursed his lips in defeat. It seemed the woman was quicker than he gave her credit for. "What did you expect? The boy has no guile." There was no point hiding it.
"I thought elves were supposed to have guile," Lorelai muttered.
"He was born and raised to the city life. He is as inelegant and ungraceful as us humans."
Lorelai huffed in amusement and a smile appeared on her face if only for a brief moment. She stared at the golden grass at her feet. "I haven't told Rillick. I cannot."
"Because of Shaan?"
She snapped her head up and stared at him wide-eyed. "Was... was it so blatant?"
He shook his head slowly. "No, no, I doubt anyone knew. I didn't, not for certain."
She winced, a faint blush forming on her cheeks, then heaved a sigh heavy with regret. "I had thought my husband dead. I felt as if I had died with him. I wanted to feel something, anything. Now I hate myself for it."
"And the baby?"
Her eyes blazed. "Belongs to Rillick. What came before matters not."
"Then what's your concern?"
Lorelai felt her eyes sting with tears. "Memories are what keep me going now. Memories of life used to be and I've got a deep well to draw upon. I still remember joy. But I think Chorrol's well is already running dry and this baby, no good memories will be made for her, only fear and pain and suffering."
He reached out with a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You cannot think that. There is still joy to be found. We take strength from one another still."
"Do you still believe this baby has a chance, that it will grow up and live a happy life?" she faced him fully now, her face awash with a mix of anger and desperation. "Look me in the eyes and tell me my child will grow to your age and die happy. Tell me. Tell me you believe that."
Dall opened his mouth to speak but all that came was silence. Why would he not speak? Does he truly believe what he preaches? If so then why did he speak no words?
Silence was the answer Lorelai sought. A part of her wanted him to tell her that all will be well, that there was hope for a child to grow up happy. He could not for nobody could promise such a life in the world they found themselves a part of but she still felt the painful sting of despair.
She walked away before she could break fully.
The axe cracked against the log. At long last it split and the two halves tumbled to the ground. Gelnen leant forward to take another log from the pile when he saw Lorelai, face and eyes red with fresh tears. He had seen her and Dall talking and if she was coming to him there could be only one reason for it.
"I'm sorry. It tumbled out and I had no means to stop it and it was Dall..."
Lorelai raised a hand to silence him. "It's okay. I should never have put you in that position." She coughed, glanced about her and stepped closer, speaking in hushed voice. "I've given what you said some thought, about needing help, and you are right that I do."
His silver eyes shone eagerly as he gave a series of sharp, rapid nods. "Of course. Anything you need."
"If you still have a mind to make a run into town for me."
"I am at your disposal."
"Thank you." Lorelai felt an overwhelming sense of relief and a warmth from the young elf's eagerness to help. So much so she pulled him into an embrace.
Gelnen squeaked in surprise at first but returned the hug, pressing his face to her collarbone. "It's okay. It's not so dire a thing, really."
Suddenly feeling self conscious she pulled back and timidly walked away.
... ... ...
Hours passed and Mage stood atop Floo, following the trail that would lead them to Red Larch. Behind her was Gelnen on their party's dapple gray, Cherrykeeper, wearing the short cloak since their last departure with his hood drawn over his head. The town appeared over the horizon.
"You need not have come," he said. "You could hate me at a distance."
Were that she could. However, as much as she hated it so, she could not let him go off alone and with everyone either too busy or too ill it fell to her. Besides which there were some supplies they were running low courtesy of their accident-prone guests.
"Say something, I beg you," Gelnen pleaded.
Still she said nothing.
"Mage, I..."
"I asked for your trust and you betrayed it," she snapped after so long being bent. "Now father is livid with me. Your turn."
They entered the main gate and Mage traced her well trodden route to the apothecary.
"So your father thinks they are still alive?"
"Father believes they are cursed by Talona, Goddess of Pestilence and Chauntea's greatest foe."
"You also believe this? Even after what you saw at the well?"
"I don't know what I saw at the well."
"Yes you do." At last they reached their destination and dismounted. They went about tying their horses. "See here, if you had seen what befell Neverwinter you would not have a barn of walkers."
"I do wish you'd stop calling them that."
"What do you call them?" Gelnen's ire grew in kind.
"Mother!" she spat, silencing him. "Lord and Lady Fichir, Lassil'i, Durican."
She swept past him and shouldered through the door, face red with sorrow and anger. Gelnen stiffly followed soon after, wishing he was anywhere else.
Once he entered the shop Mage turned to him. "What is it she wants?"
"I cannot say."
Her expression was a mix of bewilderment and frustration. "So when one of them asks to keep your mouth shut..."
Gelnen's hand snapped up, cutting her off. Between his two fingers was the list of items. She stared at it defiantly, unwilling to admit she lost. Finally she snatched it from his fingers.
"So you know I betrayed her trust in the same breath as yours," he said as she unfolded the parchment. "Now kindly detach yourself from my nethers and help me look."
With that he swept past her and disappeared between the shelves as a pressure began to build between his temples. These two were killing him sure as any walker, he thought. Were all human women like this?
The moment Mage rested her eyes upon the words her arms dropped like metal bars. "This is a jest," she breathed. "This must be a jest." She threw her arms up in disbelief and plodded towards the shelves opposite Gelnen.
Sifting through the potions and remedies for the tribulations ladies faced bared no item Mage could find that was written down. It wouldn't be long now before she would have to find another town to loot. Giving the shelves a final glance she stepped away and made for the storage room behind the counter.
The room was dusky and filled with crates and other containers for storage. It was rife with all they came for. She reached out for the last item on the list on the shelf among other highly expensive potions. This particular potion was black as coal. Blackroot Extract, a lethal poison that was too small a dose to an adult. To an unborn child, however...
Something shot through the gaps of the shelves and grabbed Mage by the wrist. She screamed and pulled back but she was yanked forward and she stared into the clouded vacant eyes of a walker.
"Gelnen!" she cried. "Get it off me!"
Gelnen stormed into the room, in his hand was a sickle. He ran towards the snarling creature and swung at its arm. Mage was thrown back as the hand that bound her was severed. In a fit of panic and terror she clawed at the severed arm which still clasped tightly around her wrist. Gelnen swung again, this time the sickle slashed deeply the side of the walker's neck. There was a loud crack as the creature's neckbone snapped and its head tilted sideways and dangled upside-down, barely held onto its shoulders by a few sinewy strands. He hacked at the neck once, twice and the head fell to the ground, its body slumped in a heap soon after. Still it growled and snarled, gnashing its teeth at him. With an anguished cry Gelnen plunged his the tip of the curved blade into the walker's eye, silencing it.
He rounded onto Mage and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Are you safe? Did it bite you?"
She was at a loss for words. All she could do was wrap her quivering arms around him and hold him tight.
... ... ...
The village at the northern fringes of the High Moor was a modest one. Small, simple buildings flanked a single stone road weathered and cracked from months of neglect. There was not a soul, neither walker nor girl, in sight save for two on horseback who scanned their surroundings with a practiced weariness.
Anderea had opted, with Shaan's recommendations, to take the longbow considering they would be in a small village with acres of farmland. As they neared the center she tightened the string.
"We will search the houses," said Shaan. "Search the marketplace after."
For a long time Anderea remained silent, swaying with Highlander's movements.
"If Salpha journeyed thus far," she said at last, "she may have a chance, do you not agree?"
... ... ...
The ride back to the estate dragged on in uncomfortable silence. Gelnen glanced over to her to see her face red with anger. By the time they arrived Mage was furious. She stormed up the path towards Lorelai who sat and sorted through clothes. Gelnen stumbled behind her, trying to keep up and stop her.
"Hey!" Mage shouted once they were within earshot. "We have your things!"
"If you would cease a moment," Gelnen pleaded.
Lorelai rose to her feet and beckoned them over. She turned to Gelnen. "Come this way."
"Why? There is nothing to hide." Mage shoved the pack into Lorelai's arms with such force she staggered back. She pushed forward and jabbed a finger to her breast. "Next time you want something get it your bloody self."
Lorelai gaped at her. "Mage, I..."
She slammed another item into her. "Here's your abortion poison."
Before she could say another word Mage pushed past her and fled. Lorelai stared after her in shock. She knows.
She turned to Gelnen who winced and fled before she could say anything and chased after Mage.
Passing between a singular line of trees Gelnen hurried over to Mage. He matched her pace and gazed at the tall grass under their feet.
"That was an irksome response if I may say so," said Gelnen after some hesitation.
She scoffed and stopped her stride, rounding on him. "Which part, pray tell? The part where that bitch almost got us killed?"
He stopped some steps ahead of her and turned, pulling down his hood. "I should have gone alone. If you seek someone to blame then blame me."
She laughed humourously. "Of course. Take the blame. As bright as you are, you are a fool."
He squinted one eye, trying to decipher her words. "I'm afraid I don't follow. I think you paid me a complement and yet you made it soummf!"
Mage surged forward, grabbed both sides of his jawline and yanked him into a searing kiss. Gelnen's eyes were wide in shock, his hands remained still but he began to return the favour. One of Mage's hands weaved into his hair as the other held his jaw, keeping his head tilted up to her. She pulled away and Gelnen gasped for air.
She fixed him a hard stare. "I have lost three people that I care dearly for in this world."
"Mage..."
"Silence. You are smart. Brave. A leader. You do not know this nor do your people. I doubt they want to know. They would rather have you fetching peaches. Undead in the well? Send Gelnen. You're bait for the walkers and I cannot bare you becoming one of them."
She pushed by him without another word, leaving Gelnen with the sensation of her touch buzzing on his skin, his heart racing in his chest.
In the maelstrom of this day one thing was for certain. whatever this was between he and Mage was no longer a fleeting fancy, a roll in the hay. She was more than that. He respected her.
... ... ...
The sun hung low in the sky over the farmlands as Shaan and Anderea rode to the final house, a small round cottage. Weeds ran rampant over the several small plots that lined the front garden, tangled threads of dried foliage spilled out onto the dirt path that lead towards the door and crunched and snapped under their boots as they neared. Behind the house was the skeletal remains of a tree that clawed at the thatch roof. Shaan pushed open the door with a long, agonising creak that both flinched at. They gripped the hilts of their sheathed swords and held still.
Nothing happened.
They crept inside and looked about them. It was dark and the smell of dust filled the air. It was small with a dividing wall to the right. In the center was the hearth, long since gone cold, set on the area of the floor that was laid with stone which carried on to the door. To the far wall was a large wooden chest, open and showing naught but the tiny dots of dust that hovered in the air. Indeed, it seemed there was nothing inside, not a single weapon or tool, save for the chest, a table with two stools and a single brass ladle that lay on the ground.
"Salpha?" Anderea called. "Anyone?"
No answer.
Shaan's eyes were drawn to the wall on the right. On closer inspection, while the area up to his knees were solid, beyond that it was shoddily made as if built in haste.
"That looks newly crafted," said Anderea, mirroring his thoughts.
"They barricaded themselves in the animal's den," said Shaan. "Tried to hold their ground." He shook his head solemnly. A foolish thing they did, cutting off any hope of escape.
The woven sticks that bound together held gaps wide enough for Shaan to peer through. Doing so he saw that the dwindling sunlight poured into the small room and several shapes scattered the ground inside along with the ever present stench that hounded them relentlessly.
He turned and swept out the door leaving Anderea scrambling behind. He rounded the corner, navigating thornbush and wildflower, and was met with a most harrowing sight.
The wall was decimated, torn to shreds by brutal hands and the ragged edges framed a picture of several corpses, sunken, withered bodies, ribbons of flesh barely clung to their person. Among the human carcasses were that of chickens, their small frames nothing more than craters and mangled feathers.
Anderea keeled over and the little food she ate that morning burst from her throat and onto the ground.
"Wattle and daub proved no match to the walker's might," said Shaan grimly. He rested a gentle hand on her shoulder and guided her away from the macabre scene. "Come, let us move. The creatures are becoming restless."
"She was never here was she?" Anderea muttered, crestfallen. "I cannot bare to tell Cralo this was all for naught."
Their path back to the marketplace was barred by an increasing number of walkers. They came from all sides, sunken bodies with tattered clothes or dresses. A number of farming tools were lodged in them. Some had sickles buried into their shoulder or sternum, small rusted axes were lodged in their stomach or neck. Highlander snorted nervously behind them and stamped the ground but otherwise stood firm. A sharp hiss sounded as Shaan unsheathed his longsword and Anderea made to lift the bow from her shoulder but Shaan stopped her with a hand.
"Worry about your bow later," he said. "Focus."
There were two directly in front of them, a man and a woman. Shaan leapt forward, cleaving through the top half the man's head. With the momentum of the swing he spun and cut down with both hands delivering a diagonal cut to the other. In the span of a second they were on the ground, heads half missing.
Anderea drew her shortsword and fell behind Shaan, who was in a low combat stance. A third walker shambled towards them, shirt torn and hung at his waist in strands, a pair of shears were embedded in his neck. Shaan backed away and stopped behind Anderea. She looked at him, horrified, but he gave her a sharp nod.
"I'm watching," he said calmly. "Strike him down."
The walker before them drew closer and he seemed to grow in bulk with every step. She steeled her nerves and entered the stance shown to her before, her sword crossed in front of her.
It was only then she realised just how short her blade was. The walker came closer but not enough, its rasping breath, its wretched smell, closer still but still it was out of range of her sword. Anderea's heart raced and her feet shuffled back to gain comfortable distance. She stopped herself, knowing that would not help. Still it was closer and now she could hear the others, once in the distance but now so close. The walker eclipsed her vision and seemed to tower over her. Did the village have a giant living among them? How was he so big? She slashed with her sword but it only cut air. He wasn't close enough. She saw the other walkers creep in the corners of her vision. The one in front bared his rotted teeth, gnashing them together which caused the muscles in his neck to pulsate and move the shears in his neck. She shook with adrenaline and panic. Again she struck and again she struck open air. How was he still out of range?! His arms reached out, skin and flesh hung like bandages from his arms.
The tips of his fingers brushed her hand.
Fear consumed every fiber of Anderea's being, panic flooded her very soul and her swordarm thrashed in front of her. The world was spent reeling, whirling in a blur of rapid motion, flying past Anderea's eyes with blinding speed. Chucks of flesh flew into the air, fingers rained down on her but she continued her mad whirlwind as a last desperate attempt to keep the creature away.
Something landed on her attacker's head with a crunch. A larger blade had lodged itself through his head. Her mind eased back to lucidity as Shaan yanked his sword up and the walker collapsed by her feet. Shaan gave her a pointed look as her chest heaved in an effort to draw breath. She looked ahead. Other walkers converged towards them but they were still a fair distance away.
As Shaan marched forward to engage Anderea lifted her longbow from her shoulder with one hand. As she did the other drew from the quiver at her belt. Bow and arrow met in front and she fired. The arrow landed square between the eyes of the nearest walker. Before it even hit the ground Anderea drew back the bowstring with another at the ready.
Two more collapsed in succession near Shaan. He focused his attention on the next in line but she too slumped, an arrow lodged in her eye. He spun around. Anderea stood several paces from him, marching with a confidence he had never seen from her before. Her arm was like clockwork, pulling an arrow from the quiver at her hip, pulling back the string and releasing with frightening accuracy. Her face was cold, almost lifeless and devoid of any emotion. Any walker in the vicinity could not even come close to him without abruptly collapsing on the ground. He looked on, shocked, awed, even. Not a single arrow missed its mark.
Before he knew it all the villagers around them were struck down and it was silence once more.
The two spent a few minutes to gather up all the arrows from the heads of the dead-again villagers. Shaan showed her how to remove them with minimal damage using a loop of wire he retrieved from Herrasil. In the midst of their task moaning filtered into their ears. Distant but rapidly growing. It seemed to him that those whom roamed the fields were able to move much faster than those of the city. He hoisted himself onto Highlander's saddle as more walkers emerged from the marketplace beyond.
"Anderea, grab my hand," he said. "Let us away." She didn't move. "Come on!"
She payed no heed to him and instead strode forward. Her eyes seemed to glaze over just as she did prior. Arrows with bloodied tips were woven between the fingers of the hand that held her bow. She pulled a fresh one from her quiver, drew back the string and fired.
... ... ...
The tip of the flight feather of a dove scratched across the page in sharp, deliberate strokes. Lorelai withdrew and dipped it into her inkwell which was running worryingly low. She ought to have added that to her list but she already harboured enough guilt for what he already retrieved.
After etching down a few more lines for her latest poem she lay the dry feather onto the desk and leant back in her chair. It had been getting harder to focus what with all that occurred over the last week and she had noticed that in the poems she wrote. They've become more dour and depressing. No big surprise there, Lorelai pondered.
Footsteps. She looked up. Gelnen walked up to her with tense shoulders and ashen face.
"The blood on Mage's shirt," said Lorelai once he was in earshot.
"She was attacked."
"Are you two well? How dire was it?"
"It was... close."
A terrible guilt stabbed her chest. "I'm so sorry. I never should've sent you there."
"I offered."
"I thought the town safe but if you never returned..."
Gelnen rose his hand to silence her. "Yet we did as I always do."
She smiled and a warm joy and affection enveloped her heart. Gelnen smiled back, but only very briefly.
"The potion. Will it even work?"
The flask of dark liquid stood still on the desk beside her, the shrinking candle giving it a menacing glow.
"I cannot say. I do not know if I want to."
"If that is the case then I got this too."
Gelnen produced another small flask the same shape as the Blackroot. This one carried the colour of bright yellow. She took it from him and stared.
"It's a Restoration potion of sorts," Gelnen continued. "My mother drank one when she had me. It's to ensure the baby is born healthy and without complication."
Lorelai looked to the Blackroot then to the potion in her hands and finally back to Gelnen. "That is quite the choice."
"I'm glad it isn't mine."
A silence fell between them and grew. Gelnen looked as if he wanted to say something. At last he cleared his throat. "Lorelai, we are friends, yes?"
Her brow furrowed. What an odd question. "With all we have endured thus far, I would say so."
He nodded, affirming to himself, and fidgeted with his hands. "I cannot tell you what to do. Never could I tell you so; but your choice, perhaps you ought not to make it on your own."
The sun elf sighed and walked away with his head hung low. The words echoed in Lorelai's mind. She reached over and took the Blackroot Extract into her other hand and stared down at the two in her lap.
If only he knew why she kept this hidden. This was her choice, her burden to bare. She dared not share this with Rillick. Her oblivious husband would no doubt he would relay such tidings to Shaan or he would find out at the very least. The man was unraveling in front of everyone. This was becoming apparent even to Rillick. If he were to find out it might send him over the edge which could only spell trouble for the whole party. The more folks who knew the greater the risk he would catch wind of it. Two was already dangerous enough.
Now she had another dilemma on her hands. She placed both potions onto the table side by side in front of her.
Quite the choice indeed.
... ... ...
The road stretched on with seemingly no end in sight. It mattered little for neither Shaan nor Anderea were in a rush to return. Her arms wrapped around Shaan's waist to hold herself fast. Her bowstring was loose and hung across her shoulder.
She had done it. She had found her true skill. Dar was right. All she had to do was shed herself of the need to prove herself to others. In doing so she proved to herself. Perhaps she couldn't handle a melee weapon if her life depended on it but, having slain every undead serf in that village, everyone would see she was a damn fine archer. She smiled at how little that meant to her now. Of course she was. She always knew that.
Adrenaline still surged through her, so much energy with nothing to use it on with triumph on top of it making it shimmer with even greater intensity.
If one were to ask Anderea why she did what she did next she would not be able to answer. All she knew was her hands began to move, seemingly of their own accord, to slide across Shaan's body. Her right hand dove under his tunic and over the curves and ripples of muscle up to his chest. Her left traveled lower and delved between his legs.
She had no intention of stopping them.
Shaan glanced at her over his shoulder with a look of shock but made no move to stop her. His neck was tickled by her long, contented sigh. He face the front again, his heart began to race with anticipation.
"Go on then," he said.
She grinned as he looped an arm around her waist and swung her around to his front. He held the reins in one hand and Anderea with the other, her legs clasped around his torso. It was incredibly awkward to maneuver in the small saddle on the swaying back of the horse but, with such eagerness between them, they managed.
Highlander continued his slow walk back home. Whatever was going on up there Shaan's companion was making an awful ruckus.
... ... ...
A strong breeze sprinted across the land and caught Lorelai's worn dress. It swayed and rippled until it fell still. She gazed out across the fields, the wind visible as it formed a line in the long grass. She stood at the crest of the hill at the edge of their camp under the cover of the line of trees, their shifting shadows cast over her fully enveloping her in darkness.
Two potions: One the colour of the rising sun. The other as black as the endless abyss. Two potions. One impossible choice.
The choice was simple. Life or death. This was what she had held in her hands. She wondered, is this what being a god feels like? If so she wanted nothing to do with it.
She had chosen. The potion felt heavy in her limp fingers. Slowly she lifted her arm until the Blackroot was in her sight. She pulled the cork free, her hands shook uncontrollably, tears fell like a stream from her eyes to her chin.
She lifted the potion to her lips and lifted back her head. The taste was a mix of bitter and sickly sweet.
Shaan slid from Highlander's saddle as they neared the ox cart and Anderea followed suit. Dall looked up and made his way to greet them. Cralo was first to reach them.
"Anything?" she asked, though she knew the answer.
"Not today," said Shaan glumly.
Anderea lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry. We'll cover more ground tomorrow."
Dall's brow knitted deeply. "What happened out there?"
The two shared a glance.
Anderea blushed. "I, well..."
"The village was overrun," Shaan interjected, "not a single serf survived."
She nodded, glad for Shaan's timely rescue.
"Let's get you cleaned up," said Cralo to the half-elf.
She draped an arm around her shoulder and lead her away. Shaan made for the stables, leading Highlander for some much needed food and water. As he did Dall hurried to his side.
"Shaan?"
"Aye?"
"Your stallion is quite the specimen. Strong, hardy, fearless even."
He smiled in thanks but confused with where this was going.
"I'd wager more than enough energy to carry you far from here."
He stopped, a sharp scrape of his boot on the gravel. A few feet between them and he turned, his face etched into a scowl.
"You're telling me to disband?" his voice was tense.
Dall nodded. "I know you've been planning it. Perhaps now is a good time."
He regarded the old man with a careful appraise. "Is this about Anderea?"
He drew a sharp breath and composed himself. This was not, he reminded himself, merely the catalyst for this exchange. "I am looking out for the party."
A mocking smirk drew along Shaan's mouth. "You think the party would be better off without me, Dall? Why not tell that to Rillick or Lorelai." The smirk vanished. "Chor... Their boy would be dead if it weren't for me. If I didn't risk life and limb."
"What of Ortus? You've been mighty vague about that night, about what happened."
Shaan's jaw clenched tight and Dall could see the pressure. "Ortus died a hero," he said through gritted teeth.
"So you say."
His eyes seemed to ignite like a ball of fire in a sorcerer's hand. "A little boy lived because of what happened that night. You would do well to show some gratitude."
"I wasn't there."
"No, my friend, you were not."
"But I was there the time you poised an arrow at Rillick. You pulled back the string with the head pointed towards him and you held him there."
Between them fell a silence more intense than a dragon's roar. Shaan's fists curled and whitened as the tendrils once again began to climb and lick at his coursing blood. His face darkened as he took a step towards him, moving like a predator stalking its prey.
"You'd think I would shoot Rillick?" his voice was a whisper but carried barely contained fury. "You think I would cut him down? He is my best friend, the man I love as a brother. You think that is the kind of man I am?"
Dall swallowed a nervous lump in his throat and forced himself to hold his gaze. "That is correct."
His mouth curled into a snarl, teeth bared as he edged closer. He used his superior height to cast a shadow over him, their faces so close they almost touched "If I were the kind of man who'd slay his best friend then what might I'd do to one I don't even like when he dares throw accusations my way? What, pray tell?"
As much as he tried Dall felt himself take a few involuntarily steps back. The man's glare could cause a gorgon to turn tail and flee. Shaan left him a triumphant smirk as he continued his path to the stables with Highlander.
His hands shook, as much as he tried to stop them, but there was one thing Dall gained from their exchange. He had used the 'I didn't do it' line followed immediately by a threat, a telltale sign of his guilt. Shaan had inadvertently bared his soul and what Dall saw troubled him greatly. There was more to Ortus' death than he let on.
Atop the crest of the hill the lone tree cast a long shadow from the ever descending sun. The sky was painted a palette of magenta and orange and the grass underfoot seemed to be coated in gold. Lorelai seemed so peaceful at the crest, her eyes transfixed to the horizon, all emotion melted away standing so still as to be part of the tree beside her. The only movement was the skirt of her dress, the subtle wind creating ripples in the fabric.
Rillick did not feel the same. Though his heart warmed at the sight it was noticeable only barely. The feelings of anger, of hurt and betrayal burned brighter within him. His boots drummed against the ground hard as he approached her and only after he climbed to the top did she acknowledge his presence. She made no move to do so but Rillick felt a subtle shift in the air around her. He knew she was aware.
Minutes ago Rillick stood at the table in their tent. She had asked for one so that she had something to write her poetry on. Upon the table sat two flasks, one filled with a liquid of bright yellow, a specific kind Restoration potion that he had recognised. Seeing this he knew not what to think until he saw the other. Empty but, on closer inspection, Rillick saw the last remnants that gathered at the bottom. Black as the void. Blackroot Extract, a lethal poison which affects only unborn children.
"Is there something you wish to tell me?" he forced his voice to be level.
"We cannot leave," she said, barely a whisper, "I'm with child."
"Truly? I saw the empty potion, what remains inside it. I know what it was."
At last she stirred, turning her shoulders to look at him, the light of the setting sun brushed her face, lighting her skin with a golden glow. "I spat it out."
Lorelai waited for him to respond, her calm only so because she had no energy left for anything else. "You may yell if you wish. Scream if you must but, I beg you, talk to me."
Rillick's features turned dark and he stormed towards her, closing the verbal gap between them. "How long have you known?"
She recognised those words, recognised them from her own voice.
"Does it matter?" she said.
"Days? Weeks and yet you did not see fit to tell me?"
"I tell you now."
"No. The potions, Gelnen knows, does he not? Instead of coming to me you sent him to retrieve Blackroot?"
She fell silent, unable to hold her gaze with his she looked down. "I panicked. You had told me we are to have no roof, no walls."
"You dare pin this on me!" Rillick spat. "You bear down upon me for keeping secrets when you hide this from me?"
"You would have me bring a baby into this?" she rounded on him, tears flooded her eyes. "So that they might have a short, cruel life."
Rillick gaped at her. "How can you think like that?!"
"Can can barely protect the son we have now!"
"So the best solution is to use poison as an assassin would a noble at a banquet?"
She took a step towards him, gesturing desperately. "Rillick, I spat it out. I let myself be lead astray." Her breath hitched. "I don't know how... how we're to do this."
Silence fell between them. Both looked away from the other. Rillick's not so steady breathing, Lorelai's sorrowful hiccups, crickets began their song as the sun dipped further down.
"We can make this work," said Rillick at last.
Lorelai looked up at him with wide eyes. "How? Tell me how?"
"We will find a way. Should we not find a way? You did not drink the Blackroot, that must mean you want this child."
"Not like this. Not giving birth in a ditch. Not when their life hangs ever in the balance the moment their born. Not when every cry will put them and Chorrol and everyone else in harm's way."
His voice was level, his ire had subsided to the relief of either. "Nor is it fair to not give them a chance."
She grimaced as her body threatened to continue weeping. "This is why I did not wish to tell you."
Rillick shook his head. "I remain baffled and bewildered as to why. Do you truly believe I would force you to have a baby you do not wish to possess?"
She swallowed possibly the fifth lump in her throat but as she opened her mouth to speak no words came. Her poor, sweet husband. If only he knew of the days he was gone, of what she did when he was traversing across a hellscape to find her again. Surely he would never...
"So that, if I were to go through with it, the choice would be on my conscience and mine alone," she lied.
"Be that as it may," he quickly glanced about them as if to ensure no one would hear, "I cannot bare to live like this any longer, Lorelai." He stepped closer and, for the first time, she could see his eyes as they were, with no barrier or shroud. They were eyes that harboured such pain, such exhaustion, that she wanted to weep for him. "We cannot live like this." He looked into her eyes. "Please. Is there anything else I ought to know?
It was as though he stared into her soul and spied something deep within, the one thing above all else she needed to keep from him. He saw it, clear as though it was written across her eyes. Her chest pushed in and she uttered the words that had feared her most of all.
"Shaan and I."
Rillick stepped back, eyes grew wide. His wife folded her arms protectively over her chest and stared at the ground.
Suddenly, everything since his reunion with his family, the strange behaviour at the tower, the hostility and anger Shaan projected towards him, the distance the two shared when before they were like close friends, the forlorn glances at her and Chorrol. Everything came together, fragments he had thought irrelevant crashing together to form a clear picture. He looked to the tall grass that shivered in the slight breeze beneath him and he realised there was one small morsel of himself that lingered just at the back of his mind, tucked away out of sight but not fully unseen.
"I know," he said softly. "Of course I know. I always knew."
He didn't wish to believe that small morsel was there. He would turn away, turn a blind eye and pretended there was nothing there. Yet it remained there still, at the back of his mind, just out of sight.
He looked up. Lorelai's eyes glistened and tears ran down her cheeks.
"You thought me dead," he said. "The world went to shit and you thought me dead."
She nodded.
They stood atop the hill with a single tree, close as a married couple ought to be yet their arms remained at their sides.
The sun disappeared over the horizon and the world was plunged into darkness.
