Dastirum
Chapter 11: Dénouement
ooo
Exhausted, humiliated, and in more than a little pain, Dubhar, the Duke of Darkness, stepped unsteadily through a shimmering rift of indigo and into his marble-tiled study just a second after disappearing from Dastirum. Placing the Sphere carefully onto its three-legged, golden stand, he then gave in to his anger and turned to smash a gauntleted fist onto the nearby table. Wood splintered with furious force, and the priceless books that had been carefully piled there were flung to the floor in disarray.
Those children! Those accursed, interfering children had destroyed everything! Already, Dastirum had slipped from his grasp. Whether those children were aware that his so-called curse had no real power when they staged their show, Dubhar did not know. But one way or another, they had demonstrated to the people of Dastirum that they were free. Worse, the flight of his fool servants in the midst of their spectacle had done more damage to his months of effort than those children could have hoped. He would hunt those idiots down and make sure they suffered for failing him.
Ripping his macabre helmet off, he flung it across the room in frustration, revealing sickly, pale green flesh, a protruding lower jaw, and a squashed nose that heavily resembled a pig's snout. Though he had the intelligence to be a Wizard of moderate power, there was obviously an Orc in his not-too-distant ancestry.
The town had been so ready to capitulate! He had been so close to finally gaining the toehold he had long desired in Yarfell, his first step to taking a kingdom that even Venger was not able to touch. And now, nothing. Nothing to show for six months of wasted effort but a terrible pain in his upper thigh.
Grimacing, the Duke sat in the upholstered chair that stood watch over the splintered remains of its matching table. Carefully unbuckling the portion of his plate mail armor that protected the thigh, he studied the bloody wound where the knife had managed to stab him. The blade had somehow slipped beneath the tasset and skittered along the metal cuisse until, by pure chance, it found the joint in his armor and buried itself in unprotected flesh. The boy had just been lucky.
Removing his gauntlets, he placed his fingers on either side of the wound and poured his energy into it, willing the skin and muscle to knit themselves together again. All things considered, the wound could have been much worse. Yet, it had been enough to distract him at the most crucial moment. He shook his head and snarled, angry at his own carelessness. Physical fights were not his forte. His victories were brought about purely by intimidation, a skill he had learned from his former Master. He knew better than to grab a hostage that was armed ... but he would have sworn on his mother's grave that the boy had only the Shield! True, the Duke recognized the Shield as one of the Weapons of Power, but he'd felt that a purely defensive Weapon was no threat. He'd seen no blade anywhere on the Cavalier's person until it was too late.
Too late, at least, to avoid this morning's debacle, the Duke decided, but not yet too late to reclaim Dastirum. After all, they had only had their freedom for a few minutes now. He could strike back at this moment, just as soon as he'd finished healing his leg. Dastirum would have no time to rebuild its resources. In his mind's eye, he could already see the citizens running beyond the barriers around their town, reveling in their newfound freedom, but really, they were no better off now than they were yesterday. They were weak and starving. All he had to do was force them back into their town, and this time he would stay there for however long it took, allowing them no mercy until the town was his. They did not have the wherewithal to fight him a second time. True, the Magician he'd confronted today had some skill, but he was only a boy, with nowhere near the power of the Wizard in Yarfell Proper.
Again, the Duke snarled. Children! That's all they were, children, yet for the moment, they had cost him the town! They would suffer for this. Oh, how those accursed children would suffer. He had a hundred ways of making each and every one of them regret the humiliation they had served him this day. They would suffer, and then they would die. Slowly. Very slowly.
There was a knock on the chamber door.
Casting a surly glance in the direction of the carved, oaken double door, the Duke muttered something under his breath about his servants being too curious for their own good. One of them had probably heard him smash the table, and was coming to investigate, looking for more gossip for the servants to whisper amongst themselves when they thought he wasn't listening. The thought only irritated him all the more. "What is it?" he snapped crossly.
There was only silence, and no answer from the other side of the door. Then, the knock came again.
"Yes, yes, come in!" Dubhar shouted, getting to his feet. If the servants were so nosy about what they'd heard behind his door, then they could find out what had happened by getting in here and cleaning up the mess!
The chamber door opened.
The Duke of Darkness froze. And then, panic-stricken, he began to tremble.
Regal and stately, Venger strode into the room, and gave an unfailingly polite nod of his head. "Dubhar. What a ... *lovely* home you have," he said with chilling courtesy.
"I ... I ..." the Duke stammered, desperately trying to find his voice. He could feel his guts turning to liquid in the terrifying presence of his former Master. "I have no quarrel with you, Venger!"
Stopping just a step away from the Duke, so that he loomed menacingly over the cowering figure, Venger's expression went from polite neutrality to a dangerous scowl. "Such insolence towards your betters," he threatened coldly. "I give you this one chance to reconsider your poor choice of words."
"Er ..." the Duke began nervously. He knew that Venger could only mean for him to say the word 'Master,' but he clamped his jaw shut before the word could escape. He had left Venger's service years ago, and owed him no loyalty! The Duke would never admit that it was utter terror which forced him to consider saying it anyway, but, as he stalled for time, he suddenly realized that the Dark Lord could not threaten him now. "I will not!" he suddenly shouted with a rush of reckless boldness. "I do not fear you!"
"Indeed?" Venger asked with an almost patronizing smile. He was rather enjoying this.
"No! You have no power here!" the Duke shouted, gesturing wildly at his door. "You have crossed my threshold unwelcomed! You have entered my home uninvited, and have surrendered your power because of it!"
The Duke quoted one of the most basic laws of magic: The homestead was a place of sanctuary and power for the one who owned it. The very walls of a home would protect the one who lived there, coming alive with intangible, invisible energy that acted as a defensive net to keep unwanted magical forces from entering. The longer the owner made it his home, magic user or not, the more layers of magical wards naturally settled around it. One like it surrounds every home, to a greater or lesser extent, and any guest who wished to enter had to be invited by the owner to cross it. To force one's way across the threshold was to surrender a portion of power equal to the threshold's own. The Duke's threshold was incredibly strong. Crossing it uninvited, as the Duke had said, would have rendered Venger nearly powerless.
Venger had, of course, planned for this.
"Uninvited?" Venger asked in feigned surprise. "And what are the customs of this land, if the phrase 'come in' does not constitute an invitation?"
The Duke's greenish face turned very, very pale when he realized what he had done. He sat down hard in the chair once again. Venger had walked right through his threshold at his own invitation. The Dark Lord had not surrendered one iota of his power at the door. "I, er, my apologies for the misunderstanding, but, I ... as I said, I have no quarrel with you, Ve ..." the Duke took one look at the dark expression crossing Venger's face, and swallowed the name so quickly that he almost choked. "I mean, M ... Master."
"So you say," Venger nodded, striding about the room casually. He'd not been this entertained since making Kelek grovel like the worm he was! "And until today, I had no quarrel with you either, my dear Dubhar."
"You ... did not?" the Duke asked uncertainly, his mind racing in utter surprise. No quarrel? Then what was it that Venger wanted from him? Why was he here at all? "Is this about Dastirum?" he guessed, then quickly offered, "The town is yours if you want it, I have merely prepared the way for you-"
"I care not for any part of the kingdom of Yarfell," Venger interrupted so sharply that the Duke reeled back in his chair. "Were this simply about Dastirum, I would let you have it with my compliments."
As utterly terrified as he was completely confused, the Duke had to admit to himself that at this point, he could not fathom what it was that Venger wanted with him. What he did know was that Venger never made social calls, and certainly never offered to form alliances with former underlings who had defied him. That all added up to serious trouble. "Then ... what have I done to offend you ... Master?" he added quickly when Venger flashed him a sharp glare from corner of his red eye.
"Those children," Venger said simply.
"Those children," the Duke repeated with a snarl, finding a reserve of anger despite the situation. Those children, who had destroyed all his plans and wasted his efforts, and caused him no small amount of physical pain in the process. As soon as he was done here with Venger, he would hunt those children down and take his revenge. "I nearly killed them," he informed Venger. "I would have gladly slaughtered all of them, as slowly and painfully as possible. And I shall yet. I will destroy each and every one of them for what they-"
"You are a fool, Dubhar," Venger interrupted again, sounding almost bored with the topic. His back was turned carelessly to the Duke as he drew one of the leather-bound tomes from its shelf and inspected it with casual interest. "Such a fool that I found it necessary to intercede on their behalf before you could cause them more trouble than you had. Did you not notice the Weapons they bore?" he asked nonchalantly.
"Er ... yes ...?" the Duke admitted slowly, his anger switching once again to confusion. Venger had directly interfered today? When? And why had Venger not just killed him and been done with it? "They seemed to be some of the Weapons of Power, I believe," he continued hastily when he realized that his former Master was expecting a better answer. Despite still wondering why he wasn't dead already, his reply to Venger finally triggered another realization in his own mind. "Oh. Weapons of Power. That would make them some of the Dungeon Master's pupils."
"Yes. Dungeon Master's pupils," Venger confirmed with a nod, replacing the book carefully. Abruptly, he rounded in utter fury on the Duke, letting out a bone-chilling roar that shook the books on their shelves. Eyes glowing as red as freshly-spilled blood, claws curled into deadly fists, menacing wings spanning half the length of the room, he advanced so wrathfully that the Duke fell out of his chair and scrambled away in terror. "The right to kill Dungeon Master's pupils is mine alone, Dubhar!" he thundered, as deadly energy crackled in a violent storm around him. "Those children are *mine* to destroy as I choose! They are *my* enemies above all else! I alone, and no other, shall have the pleasure of destroying them when the time is right. How *dare* you claim what is rightfully mine?"
Panicked, the Duke scrabbled desperately out of Venger's path, and made a lunge for the golden stand in the center of the room. He grabbed the Sphere, thinking to escape, but realized it was useless before he'd even visualized a safe destination. Venger would surely follow, no matter where he went. As strong as he was, he still didn't have the power to take on Venger and hope to live. Then he had only one option, even if it cost him the Sphere. Rushing at his former Master, he drew up a mental image of the coldest, most desolate and barren plane of existence that legend had ever taught him. "I will send you to a place from which even you cannot return!" he shouted, and made to throw the celestial object at the Dark Lord.
The crystalline Sphere exploded before it ever left the Duke's hand, shattering into a thousand useless shards with no more than a glance from Venger. "Bluffing, Dubhar," Venger scolded with a patronizing tone. "Always bluffing."
It would have astounded Venger to learn that the bluff he thought he'd called had, in truth, been the only threat the Duke had ever made that was completely serious.
"Now then," Venger continued thoughtfully as the soon-to-be former Duke of Darkness stared stupidly at his cut and bleeding hand. "As I have said, I alone will deal with the children when the time is right. But at this moment, I choose to deal with you. You should never have drawn my attention in this way, for now I am forced to remember the insult you dealt me when you left my service and styled yourself an emperor of the darkness. I have not forgotten, Dubhar, and I have certainly not forgiven. I simply wonder, what shall I do with an upstart pretender such as yourself?"
ooo
"The ... Duke? Crap!" Eric realized. In the horrible aftermath of the final attack, then the rush of elation as the townspeople realized they were free, the Duke himself had been momentarily forgotten. "I think he used the Sphere and got away!"
"He could be anywhere!" Diana responded quickly. "Guys, we've got to get all those people out there to come back inside! There's nothing stopping him from using the Sphere to attack them like his curse still works!"
"Oh, but there is indeed something stopping the Duke of Darkness from using the Sphere, Acrobat," came an unexpected voice from somewhere close to the ground. The four of them whirled around quickly even though most of them were hardly surprised by appearances like this any more.
"Hey, Dungeon Master, ol' buddy," Eric greeted with mild sarcasm. "Care to stick around for a while this time?"
Dungeon Master merely smiled cryptically and did not answer. Instead, he just paused for a moment before looking behind himself expectantly. In that brief space of time, Presto, who had taken Bobby for a walk well away from the gruesomeness of a few minutes ago, came wandering back with his young charge.
"Hey, look! It's Dungeon Master!" Bobby exclaimed. He was feeling much better and already had nearly forgotten the sight of the grievous injuries the Duke had dealt his friends. Or perhaps, his young mind was simply shutting it out before the memory could drive him mad.
"Yeah, we thought that the Duke might come back and attack now that people are leaving the town," Hank quickly filled the two in. "But Dungeon Master was just telling us that something's stopping him from doing it all of the sudden."
"Unfortunately, Ranger, the thing that is stopping the Duke also prevents anyone else from using the Sphere," Dungeon Master explained with a certain amount of sadness on his pupils' behalf. "The item has been destroyed."
Six young faces fell almost identically at the news. Another chance to go home, gone, just like that. "How?" Eric asked for all of them.
"The Duke of Darkness did the one thing he should never have done: he attempted to pursue that which Venger claims as his own," their diminutive guide explained. "Venger has responded accordingly, and the Duke must now face the consequences of his actions. Venger has imprisoned him, alone, in his own stronghold. Without the use of the Sphere, he is truly as trapped as the citizens of this town once believed themselves to be. He faces the same options that he offered Dastirum and so many lands before it: either capitulate to Venger's will, or eventually starve."
Even Sheila found it difficult to be disturbed by the Duke's plight. Poetic justice had a beauty all its own, even if their arch-enemy was the one who meted it out. "I'll bet Venger doesn't even realize that he spoiled another chance for us to get home," she guessed quietly, "but what I'd love to know what it was that the Duke almost took that upset him so much. I mean, I remember you saying that it was the only way he might see the Duke as a threat, but from what we've heard, Venger didn't want anything to do with this kingdom."
"At the moment," Dungeon Master answered, slightly uncomfortably, "perhaps it is best that you do not know the answer to that."
"Well, if you say so," Diana shrugged, recognizing something about Dungeon Master's tone that said there would simply be no further discussion of the topic. "But personally, what I want to know is why the Duke just up and left in the middle of all that. Presto and I didn't see everything that happened, but from what I could tell, Hank was down, Collin was practically dead, Corheen was freaking out, and Eric looked kinda stunned for a minute there. All that left was Bobby." She grinned apologetically, trying to placate the little Barbarian. "No offense, Bobby, but he coulda taken all you guys at that point."
"That's probably because he was injured," Hank reasoned. "I guess you didn't see that part. Eric stabbed him in the leg." The Ranger frowned suddenly as a thought occurred to him, a minor detail that had been lost in the greater chaos. Turning to Eric, he said, "Nice knife, by the way. Would have been nicer to know that you had it. It might have been a little easier to figure out what you were trying to tell me when the Duke grabbed you."
"Oh, what, this?" Eric asked with a slight blush, pulling a bloody knife out of a sheath on his belt that simply hadn't been there a moment ago. He noticed the blood drying on the blade, and reached for his cape to clean it, before remembering that Collin was wearing that particular garment at the moment. "Um ... well," he explained lamely, "All I was trying to tell you was to play along and keep him distracted, and buy me a couple seconds. Sorry about that. Looks like you got the message loud and clear anyway."
"Well, okay," Hank persisted, "so where did that knife come from?"
"Um," Eric looked away, clearly embarrassed. "Thedragonsgraveyard," he blurted quickly.
"Whoa, wait, what?" Presto interrupted. As Eric's reply sunk in, it left the Magician wavering somewhere between outright curiosity, sheer surprise, and anger that he'd been seemingly lied to. "You told me you didn't take any Weapons from the Dragon's Graveyard!"
"No, I didn't say that!" Eric defended himself, sticking the Dagger back into the sheath on his belt, where it stayed perfectly visible this time. "I said, you didn't *see me*take anything from the Dragon's Graveyard. And you didn't. Nobody ever saw me with this Dagger until now, did you?"
Hank vaguely remembered getting the strange impression that Eric had been carrying a blade when they'd investigated the salted gardens, but before he could say anything, Presto plunged on, "Now you're starting to sound like him!" as he pointed towards Dungeon Master.
Or rather, to the Dwarf-shaped space of empty air where Dungeon Master had been only seconds before.
"Well, he did it again," Diana said with no surprise in her voice, before immediately turning back to Eric. "So, did you get that from the Dragon's Graveyard, or didn't you?"
"I ... did," the Cavalier admitted. "And before this goes any further, I'm sorry if it looks like I lied to you guys about it. It's just ... I think that's the Dagger's power. You can't see it unless you know right where it is, and you're paying real close attention to it."
"What ... you mean it can turn invisible?" Sheila asked for clarification as she fingered the edge of her Cloak, wondering if both Weapons had similar powers.
"No, it's just ... you can't concentrate on it," Eric tried to explain, though much of this was his own guesswork. No one had spelled out the Dagger's power to him when he'd found it. His attempts to discover its uses had not been that dissimilar to Presto's experiments with his own Knife, only more subtle. "It's like you can't see it if you don't specifically know to look for it, and if I do something with it, your mind just comes up with some other explanation for whatever I did, instead of letting you think I had a knife. But I wasn't sure, so I kind of had to not tell you guys about it and see if anyone noticed. Heck, I even carved up a pheasant with it right in front of you, Presto. You just figured I'd borrowed your Knife when you weren't looking. Or when I helped Sheila fix chicken soup for dinner the first night we were here."
Frowning, the Thief asked, "Wait, didn't you use a knife you found in the kitchen?"
Instead of answering, the Cavalier merely smiled. "See?" he said with a flourish of his hand, as if Sheila had just confirmed everything he was saying. "And when I was whittling something in front of you guys, it never even clicked with any of you that I had to have been using something sharp to do it." The Cavalier smiled apologetically before continuing, "It's the Ultimate Concealed Weapon, you know? I mean, how handy would that be if somebody searched you for weapons or, oh, I dunno, maybe grabbed you because they made the mistake of thinking you didn't have anything to fight back with?"
"Then how did you find it in the first place?" Hank asked. "You couldn't have been able to see it since you weren't looking for it. As a matter of fact, since you didn't even know it existed, you never should have been able to find it at all."
"I ... uh ..." Eric looked at his boots, absently scratching at his ear in embarrassment. "I kinda sat on it."
"You ... wait, you what?" Diana demanded, trying not to laugh in Eric's face, but clearly storing that tidbit away for future reference.
"The handle!" Eric shot back heatedly. "I sat on the handle. Plus it was in the sheath, so no, Di, I did not stab myself! I sat down on what I thought was a nice, flat rock, but all of the sudden there was this big lump under my butt. So I got up and swept it off," here he made a quick sweeping motion with his hand, "and that's when I bumped the Dagger. I've been able to see it ever since, but I think that's probably because I know that I have it. And now I kinda drew everyone's attention to it in a super huge way, so you can all see it, too. For now. If I move it someplace else tomorrow that you don't know about, I'll bet you won't be able to find it at all." Offering a lame grin, the Cavalier explained, "I can't really say that was the way I wanted to go about testing it, but I kinda figured all along that was what would happen. Actually, I've sorta been wondering what would happen if I sat it down and forgot where I put it. I don't think I could ever find it again."
"Okay, so let me guess," Presto concluded. "You had it in your hand, like, the whole time we were there in the Dragon's Graveyard, and what clued you in was that none of us said anything about it or even looked like we noticed you had it, right?"
"Well, yeah," Eric admitted quietly, "but most of you were ... kinda distracted at the time. That's why I didn't say anything at first. I wanted to see if any of you could see it once things had calmed down and ... gotten back to normal, you know?"
Heaving a sigh, Diana crossed her arms and then glanced at Presto. He just shrugged at her inquiring expression, and, having heard out Eric's reasoning, didn't look too terribly offended by the deceit. "Okay, Eric, fine," she sighed grandiosely. "You're forgiven. Just don't do it again."
"Oh, I won't," Eric agreed. "Not with this Dagger, anyway. I think I'm gonna give it to Collin. It's not much, but I think I owe him something for saving my life like that."
ooo
It was now the second day of Dastirum's liberation. Word that the Duke of Darkness had been defeated, his curse broken, had spread quickly. Within half an hour, it seemed like the whole town was outside, shouting and dancing in joy. When the initial jubilation was finally exhausted, then came the work of harvesting anything that was immediately edible in their untended fields.
For the most part, the people of Dastirum dined on vegetables that first day, but at least they dined. Very little meat was to be found. Most of the cattle that had been set out to pasture before the town had been "cursed" were now a long way off, and could not easily be rounded up since the townsfolk had eaten all their horses in desperation. Hunting the herd animals that wandered the prairies was an equally impossible task without horses. But they were not forced to be entirely vegetarian in their first days of freedom: at least a small amount of fresh meat was provided by hunters with slings or bows and arrows, who were able to bring down scores of the wild hares that had populated the fields to abundance.
Just to be safe, Bobby and the others elected to keep Uni hidden for another day or two.
The six young strangers who, by all appearances, had freed the town were hailed as heroes, as were the four brave Dastirites who had aided them. Though the townspeople had little to offer to show their extreme gratitude for their freedom and their very lives, they gave what they could, even if it was just their hearty thanks, an impromptu parade, and the promise of carven marble statues in the town square as soon as the Artisan's Guild got their resources together again. Only Eric, and, surprisingly, Collin were particularly interested in the latter.
Baris's father made a more tempting promise in his gratitude: As soon as he was able to open his inn again, they could all have free room and board for however long they wished to stay. He was uncertain when that reopening would be, as he had to re-stock the kitchens, replace most of the tables in the common room, find a way to wash the remaining sheets and blankets without any soap, and stockpile enough firewood to fuel the fireplaces and warm the baths. A grand re-opening in the next day or two did not look likely. The offer was appreciated nonetheless.
The morning of that second day of freedom brought something to Dastirum almost as welcome as freedom itself. It couldn't have been much past ten in the morning, and most everyone was far afield, hard at work at the beginning of several weeks' worth of intense harvesting. It was during one of Eric's many pauses to complain how much digging potatoes hurt his back when he happened to glance to the northeast. He interrupted his own gripes, which no one was really listening to anyway, to shout in pure delight, "Hey! Look!"
Everyone within earshot whipped their heads up to see what had caught the Cavalier's attention. There, on the road heading into the town, was a column of precisely marching soldiers, well over two hundred of them. At the head of the column were a dozen or so riders on horseback, including two who each bore a standard of Yarfell on a long pike. The silken banners fluttered colorfully in the breeze.
They were too far away to make out any fine details, but details weren't necessary to realize what this was: a relief mission. "Lord Tolan!" Diana exclaimed to her friends. "He must have made it to Yarfell Proper!"
The six of them had no intention of simply dropping everything they'd picked and leaving it lying in the field, so, loaded down with their heavy bags of vegetables, it took just shy of half an hour to walk the mile or so back to Dastirum. By the time they arrived, the soldiers had quickly and efficiently set up a relief operation. Many were in the town square, doling out flatbread, dried meats, medicines, and various emergency supplies to long lines of waiting Dastirites. Others were going door to door, assessing the extent of the suffering while bringing help to those who were too sick to leave their houses. Soldiers with engineering training were evaluating the damage to the town and estimating what it would take to rebuild, while the rest were busy making sure the area was secure and that there was no imminent threat hanging over the town.
In all the organized chaos, the banners of the Kingdom of Yarfell could be seen serenely fluttering above the heads of the crowd. Hank and Eric teamed up to push their tandem way through the horde of eager townspeople toward these flags, dozing a way for Diana, Sheila, Bobby and Presto to follow. Soon enough, they broke through the mass of people, and saw that a field command, of sorts, had been set up on the table that Presto had used as his altar the day before. On either side of the table stood a soldier holding his banner proudly. Papers were spread over the table, and a young officer leaned over them, frantically writing notes as fast as the reports were coming in. Off to one side, at last, was a familiar face, speaking to a man in cream-colored, burgundy-trimmed robes.
"I tell you," the older man, who was unquestionably a Wizard, could be heard saying. "There's *nothing* here that I can sense in the slightest!"
"Lord Tolan!" Hank shouted at the sight of their friend from Yarfell Proper, who was clad once again in the familiar, silver-trimmed black leather he had worn when they met him a week ago. Said Lord looked up abruptly when he heard his name, and for just a moment, his smile beamed at the sight of the six youngsters he had so quickly grown fond of.
But just as quickly as his smile appeared, his face fell when he realized what this meant. "Oh ..." Tolan said quietly, momentarily taken aback. "Do not think that I am not glad to see you, but ... to have you here now means that you were unable to find your way back to your own world."
"Well, no," Diana admitted as the others looked downcast for a moment. "The Duke got away before we could get the Sphere. Then we got it on good authority from Dungeon Master that it was destroyed."
"I see," Tolan nodded sympathetically. "My sincerest condolences, then. I know you desired to go home more than anything. Were it in my power to grant you that wish, I would in an instant, for all the aid you have rendered to Dastirum and therefore, to Yarfell."
"Well, we'll just keep trying," Hank answered in the most upbeat tone he could manage. "We'll get there eventually, even if we have to break some more curses along the way to do it."
"Yes ... about that," Tolan asked, turning to the robed man beside him. He was much older, to be sure, but he casually wore a mantle of complete power about him that might have made even Venger think twice before tangling with him. He was bald on top, with his gray beard trimmed close, and those from Earth thought that something about his eyes reminded them strongly of Sean Connery. "This is the Court Wizard Echlar," Tolan introduced. "I believe I mentioned him to you before."
"Whatever he said, it's all lies," the old Wizard shot in immediately.
Tolan gave the Wizard a sideways glance. "In general, I said rather good things about you."
"Well, there you have it," Echlar agreed. "Lies. I'm a grouchy curmudgeon and everyone knows it. However, this grouchy curmudgeon has a few questions about what happened here." His sharp eyes zeroed in on Presto, who looked like he was about ready to faint from giddiness in the presence of a "real" Wizard. "From what I hear, the Duke of Darkness placed a curse on this town months ago, so that no one could pass beyond the walls of the town without risking death and destruction, and that you found a way to break it just yesterday?"
"Well ... um ..." Presto began, but the Wizard Echlar forged ahead without an answer.
"The strange thing is, there was a pretty powerful Circle over there that held traces of magic that would have been powerful enough to break a curse," he continued, which garnered not only a startled look from Presto but from all of his friends as well, "but I can't seem to sense any of the Duke's curse to begin with. I'd think that if a curse had been around that long, I ought to feel *something* leftover. The smell of a musty room that's been locked up for six months doesn't air out in a day. It's the same with magic, I'm sure you realize."
"Um ... yeah ..." Presto tried to agree, but his mind was racing too quickly to settle on any one thought. This Wizard had found traces of magic powerful enough to break a curse?
"Look, we can explain what happened," Hank offered, pointedly looking around at the scores of Dastirites packing the town square, "but not here, all right? I think we ought to discuss it in private because, well, maybe the people here shouldn't be hearing all the details just yet."
Tolan considered this, quickly understanding that there was something going on here that was not as it seemed. Echlar just gave Presto a very suspicious look.
"Your Highness?" the young officer who had been writing at the table politely interrupted. Offering Tolan a piece of parchment covered in precise, copperplate handwriting, he explained, "I believe I have a preliminary death count. Estimates show almost three hundred citizens died from disease, destruction, or starvation."
"Three hundred?" Tolan repeated, shaking his head sadly as he scanned the document. "That's three hundred too many. However long it takes you, Edellin, I want the name of every citizen who perished because of the Duke of Darkness. I will not let this ... yes?" he asked in confusion, trailing off as he noticed the six inexplicably drop-jawed stares of his young friends utterly focused on him.
"Your *Highness?*" Diana asked bluntly.
"Well, yes," Tolan answered, as clearly and utterly bewildered as they were, but for an entirely different reason. "Either that, or 'Sir,' as I am his commanding officer. Is something wrong?"
"Okay, now hold on here," Eric said when he recovered from the surprise slightly ahead of everyone else. "I asked and you specifically said you weren't the King of Yarfell!"
"That is correct," Tolan answered, nonplused, and for some reason, the Wizard Echlar erupted into a fit of hearty belly-laughs at this. "Yarfell has no King, she is ruled by a Queen."
"Then why the 'Your Highness,' Your Highness?" Eric persisted. "You said you don't rule Yarfell, and you're definitely not the Queen's brother and not the Queen's son, because you indicated your sister is a 'friend' of the Queen."
"I am married to the Queen," Tolan explained, clearly and honestly sounding as though he thought everyone knew that, and was completely surprised that they didn't. "I told you as much, did I not?"
"No, you didn't! Oh, wait, yes you did," Eric realized, contradicting himself in the same breath. "When you told us that running around in the woods without an armed guard drove your wife and your Queen nuts."
"Yes ...?" Tolan asked, still not quite sure what the problem was.
Giving a wry laugh when he realized what Eric was driving at, Hank explained, "Your wife and your Queen ... we thought you were talking about two different people, Your Highness."
"Her Majesty is my wife, and also my Queen," Tolan tried to say, before a laughing Echlar slapped him so heartily on the back that it actually pitched His Highness forward a step or two.
"You went adventuring with a group of Outworlders for *how many* years, and you've already forgotten how they speak?" the Wizard practically howled in amusement. Obviously, a grouchy curmudgeon he was not, despite all his protests to the contrary.
Clearly embarrassed by the misunderstanding and slightly miffed by the rough treatment, Tolan gave the Wizard a stern glare. "I know I can be a bit reticent when it comes to announcing my status to strangers, Echlar, but I can assure you, at the time, I was quite convinced they understood my ... oh, *please,* do not start bowing now, my friends," he interrupted himself when it was clear that at least Sheila and Diana were trying to figure out the proper etiquette. "We have gone this long without it as is, and all the bowing and scraping starts to annoy me after a while."
"That's our boy, humble to the end," Echlar said, and it wasn't entirely clear if he was being serious or not. "Comes of being raised the younger son of a Noble Lord. So maybe I should clarify for you kids," he added. "If a man marries either the Queen, or the Princess who is first in line for the Throne of Yarfell and who will become Queen, that doesn't make him King since he's not the one with the royal lineage. His official title is Prince Consort. Our current Prince Consort has always been quite adamant that he doesn't *technically* rule the Kingdom," and here the Wizard slung his arm around Lord Tolan's shoulders and gave him a friendly glare in return, "even if ninety-nine people out of every hundred look up to him with just as much adoration as they do our Queen. Just ... what is it that you Outworlders say? Just F.Y.I."
"Ah," Eric said, with slight but detectable sarcasm. "I can see the incredibly huge difference."
ooo
Now that Lord Tolan's relationship to the Queen of Yarfell was known, it was easy to see how he'd pulled off such a major relief effort so quickly. The newly liberated town's celebrations only redoubled by afternoon of the next day, when the second and much larger wave of Yarfellian relief reached Dastirum. With a sudden supply of livestock to tend, crops to harvest, and buildings to repair and rebuild, the town came alive, bustling as if the past six months had never happened.
Aided by the influx of supplies, Baris's father had managed to get his inn opened again much sooner than he'd anticipated, and the building with its private rooms, open common area, and famous kitchen became a sort of command center and barracks for the Yarfellian officers. As promised, he also offered free room and board to each of the Outworlders who had saved their town.
About that time, it was reported to Lord Tolan that two frightened and disheveled men had stumbled into the town after having obviously spent at least two nights unsheltered and unsupplied beneath the stars. They had looked around, seen the soldiers, and, for all intents and purposes, had thrown themselves upon the nearest officer, begging to be arrested before the townspeople saw them and tore them to pieces. The bemused soldiers had complied, according to Lord Edellin's report, but beyond that, he was only able to learn that the men were brothers whose names were Tormod and Uisdean. They were as yet unable to get a coherent explanation from either of the prisoners.
Wanting to assist wherever they could, the kids had volunteered for several different duties along with the soldiers and civilians who were helping the town get back on its feet. Sheila, along with Sora, was busy doling out aid and medicine to the sick and injured, while Bobby was happily helping to clear the piles of rubble that were once brick and mortar buildings. His job, which suited him perfectly, was simply to smash the large chunks of crumbled masonry into much smaller pieces that could be easily carted away. Diana had taken it upon herself to try to return the stolen heirlooms to the families of their deceased owners, though identifying and verifying the proper heirs was turning out to be a time-consuming and tedious process. Presto was personally assisting the Wizard Echlar in "removing the cursed blight from the gardens," which meant that they had devised some magical way of discreetly leaching the salt out of the soil.
Hank and Eric had volunteered to help the construction crews. Eric, of course, had cheekily applied for a supervisor's position, but since neither of them had any masonry or carpentry experience, they were assigned the task of making sure the workers had a steady stream of lumber, nails, bricks and mortar. Until about one minute ago, that was exactly what they had been doing. Between the two of them, they'd been hauling a load of tools and nails to the south side of town. Now, they stood in mute horror at the edge of a pit they had discovered by accident.
Hank had quickly shut his eyes and turned away, his face turning almost as green as his tunic. Eric, on the other hand, could not tear his eyes away and just stared, frozen and horrified, into the mass grave where almost three hundred corpses had been piled up during the past five months.
Both boys almost started hyperventilating with the hideous shock, but the foul stench of the grave gagged them visibly. Of course, what had they been expecting? People had been dying of starvation and disease almost every day, and since there was no firewood for funeral pyres, and no way of burying them outside the town walls, the dead had to go somewhere.
Eric watched as four men, with cloths wrapped around their mouths and noses, descended carefully into the pit and gingerly lifted a bloated body that had been hastily wrapped in threadbare rags before it had been tossed into the grave. As they moved the corpse to an ox-drawn cart, the Cavalier realized these men had been given the sad duty of removing all the bodies to give them proper burials in the fields surrounding the town.
"Three hundred people dead, that's what Lord Tolan's lieutenant reported," Hank said softly, still refusing to look at the bodies. "How many of them do you think died in the last week?"
It was an oddly phrased question, enough so that Eric was finally, thankfully, able to blink and look away from the grisly sight. "In the last week?" he repeated, staring at Hank's back and wondering why he had asked. "I don't know. Diana only heard about that one guy, but if you want me to guess, maybe five? Six? One person a day on average?" he estimated conservatively, then frowned in concern when he noticed the Ranger was clearly trembling. "Why?"
"Because Dungeon Master tried to tell us about this place almost a week before we decided to listen," Hank answered shakily, still not turning to face either Eric or the grave. "I went off on my little personal vendetta and dragged everybody to the Dragon's Graveyard instead. All the people that died in the past week, when we should have already been here helping them, their deaths are on my head, Eric."
Eric looked down and chewed his lip in consternation, ostensibly seeing Hank's point, but knowing very well how hard and how personally the Ranger took it whenever he thought something had gone wrong. "I don't know, I wouldn't say it was just your personal vendetta alone," the Cavalier countered quietly. After a quick moment of gathering his thoughts, he was then able to more confidently add, "Look, you can't forget that this has been going on for almost half a year. Dungeon Master could have told us about it months ago, so maybe he should take the blame for it." He shrugged, though Hank still had his back turned and couldn't see the silent gesture. "And it wasn't too long ago that I would have said so and left it at that. But now, my mind starts spinning in little circles and it makes me think, what if he did send us here a month or two ago? Then we might not have been in the right place at the right time to find Zandora's Box or protect Tardos Keep or even to rescue Terri. Don't tell him I said that, by the way, or else he might start thinking I *like* gallivanting around saving kingdoms and rescuing fair maidens and their flea-bitten mutts for a living. But what I'm trying to say is, if you keep running around shouting, 'What if? What if?' then eventually your brain's gonna explode. I know it doesn't help any of these people," he said with a slight wave towards the mass grave, "but we just do what we can, hope we'll find a portal home along the way, and things work out the way they're supposed to for a reason."
Hank just shook his head, almost imperceptibly, refusing to let himself be exonerated.
"Okay. Well, you know," Eric tried again, quickly taking a different tack when he saw his first attempt hadn't worked, "personally, I think it's a good thing that we went to the Dragon's Graveyard before coming here. Seriously, some of those extra Weapons we grabbed made all the difference. Like that Knife Presto had. It didn't help him much, but Corheen was able to hit the Duke pretty hard with it quite a few times. I'm not sure how the battle would have gone if she hadn't weakened him like that. And, well, even though I'm absolutely one hundred percent sure the ol' Cavalier would have been able to get away from El Dukerino anyway, no doubt in my mind whatsoever, no sir, it sure was a lot easier because I had that Dagger. So my vote is, I, for one, am really glad you 'dragged us all' to the Dragon's Graveyard like you did."
Hank sighed, finally turning to face his friend, though he studiously avoided looking at the corpse-filled pit. Following Eric's line of reasoning, clearly trying to grasp some thread of hope that he hadn't failed them all yet again, he admitted slowly, "I suppose you're right about that. Sheila and Sora were able to save a dozen or more people who got trampled in all the panic, and who knows how many sick people they've saved since then? They wouldn't have been able to do any of it if they didn't have that Net."
"Don't you forget it," Eric agreed, poking Hank in the chest for emphasis. "Without that Net, we'd be burying Collin and all those other people right now, and you yourself would be laid up for at least six weeks with a broken shoulder. And the scary part is, if it didn't heal up exactly right, who knows, you might not have ever been able to use your Bow again. Think about it."
"When did you become a psychologist?" Hank asked with a ghost of a smile, but he unconsciously rubbed his shoulder as if the memory still pained him. With a long sigh, he finally admitted, "I still feel bad about the whole thing. People died because we didn't get here right away, and I'm not sure how to forgive myself for that. But you're right. More people would have died if we hadn't made that detour first. Thank you, Doctor Montgomery."
"You're welcome, Mr. Grayson," Eric nodded with a hint of a smile, reaching down to pick up the box of masonry trowels he'd dropped in that shocked moment when they'd stumbled onto the pit. "You can pay my receptionist on the way out. My office doesn't bill insurance."
"Oh, no, looks like I forgot my wallet," Hank answered, but then his smile faded as he finally took a deep breath and looked fully into the mass grave, pondering the sight mutely. "Hey, Eric," he asked after a long and thoughtful moment, pointing at the piles of corpses, "you know, I'm thinking maybe the others don't need to know about this just yet."
Pausing, Eric looked from Hank to the grave and back. The Ranger was right, there was no immediate need to let the others know about this gruesome discovery, and it suddenly occurred to Eric how, despite everything, their leader was trying to shield them all from the horrible realities of the Realm in the same manner that Sheila always tried to protect Bobby's innocence. There was nothing anyone could do about the lives that had been lost, and telling their friends about the massed piles of dead bodies would only make everyone feel as helpless and horrified as the two of them felt now. Their friends had all gone through enough already, and nothing vital was at stake here any more. Though they had all sworn to be completely honest with one another ever since Venger's nearly-disastrous attempt at blackmailing Hank with Bobby's life, there would be no harm in temporarily withholding the truth about the rotting stench that had pervaded Dastirum, until such time as the town was miles behind them.
"Agreed?" Hank asked seriously.
Eric nodded solemnly. "Agreed."
ooo
For what was now the third night since the relief missions had reached Dastirum, a party was raging in the inn. It was well past midnight and the revelry showed no sign of slowing down. In between running back and forth to serve the diners and celebrants, Baris paused to estimate that the festivities would last an entire week before life settled back into a normal routine. He didn't mind. After half a year's imprisonment, and so much death and suffering, a week of celebrating was what the citizens of Dastirum needed to put the misery behind them.
The fabled group of Young Ones was no exception to partaking in the festivities. In the town's celebratory mood, they were hailed as heroes, treated almost as royally as the actual Royalty amongst them. Dastirum had welcomed them to extended their visit as long as they wished. Though they felt a certain amount of guilt over accepting rewards and accolades for what was essentially a ruse, the six of them had decided to stay until they heard from Dungeon Master again. Until then, they were each determined to enjoy to the fullest extent all the time here they had available. Now that aid was flowing in to the town, imminent danger did not haunt their every step here; they faced no life-or-death responsibilities, no daily struggle just for survival. For just a little while, they could simply relax and just be the normal teenagers they desperately wanted to be.
After a day or so of really thinking things through, and talking it over with Sheila, Hank seemed to have finally forgiven himself after all, and had soon returned to his normally pleasant self. Presto's confidence had been given such a boost, he'd been downright cheerful ever since the Wizard Echlar told him that had there actually been a curse on Dastirum that needed breaking, his ritual would have worked. Bobby was no longer so bored that he was driving his friends out of their skulls, and he and Uni could finally romp in the streets with out having to worry about anyone's plans for Unicorn stew. There was free food and hot baths, and comfortable beds awaited the little band of heroes in their private rooms in the inn. All in all, Eric decided, life was looking up.
"Your friend has quite a gaggle of admirers," His Highness Lord Tolan mentioned as the Cavalier plopped down on a wobbly bench with a plate of char-broiled steak and potatoes, his second helping of the night. Eric glanced up, if not jealously then at least protectively, and saw that Diana was holding her own quite nicely and rather enjoying the fact that four of Tolan's officers were simultaneously trying to strike up conversations with her.
"Can't say I blame them," Eric commented around a mouthful of steak.
"Of course not," the Noble Lord answered, sipping at a mug of water. One thing that the town did not have yet was a supply of spirits. Both the Queen and her husband had felt there were more vital supplies to be sent in the first wave of relief than ale and wine. "I must say that she's the third most beautiful woman I have ever seen."
"His Highness is a flatterer," chimed in another voice, and the officer that Tolan had previously introduced as Lord Edellin of House Mord sat on the other side of Eric. "He says the very same about every woman he meets."
"Uh huh," Eric smiled, enjoying the pleasant cheer of the evening. Times like this were rare for him and his friends. "And the two more beautiful women are ...?"
"My wife and my sister, of course," Tolan shrugged with a smile.
"Though if you ask his sister, it's the other way around," Edellin interrupted.
"And who is to argue with my beloved little sister and expect to win?" Tolan asked lightly.
"Certainly not me," Edellin finished. "But I keep asking. Eventually she'll say yes."
Eric had already gotten the impression that arguing with Tolan's sister, Lady Kirriam, was a lot like trying to best Diana in a verbal fight. It was possible, just not very likely. Poor Lord Edellin, he was actually trying to propose. He laughed at the easy banter between the two noblemen, cherishing the good times and trying not to think about the fact that they would soon have to end.
All three men happily tucked in to their plates of food, enjoying the subtle, savory richness of the innkeeper's fine cooking. "There's straw sticking to your cape," Tolan noted after a moment, clearly trying to ignore the blatant presence of two royal bodyguards hovering not far behind him as they dined. "You were in the stables petting Hwesta again, weren't you?"
"Your horse is two-timing you," Eric grinned smugly. "What can I say? She knows a good thing when she sees it."
The Prince Consort of Yarfell laughed out loud at this. "That floozy," he commented with a shake of his head. "And how are your friends enjoying your stay thus far? I have not seen much of the others this evening."
"Huh?" Eric asked, swallowing a large bite of roasted, herbed potatoes. "Oh ... well, Bobby got pooped so he took Uni and went to bed a couple hours ago," he explained. "Hank and Sheila are ... I dunno, probably making out in one of the rooms upstairs." He said it jokingly, though he might, or might not, have been surprised to find out he was right. "And Presto, well, he and Corheen have been hanging on your friend Echlar since you guys got here. They both think they can learn some magic from him so they pretty much won't let him out of their sight."
"They might well be able to learn something from him about magic, indeed," Lord Tolan agreed. "And I think Echlar might be able to learn a little something about subtlety and the power of belief from them in turn," he added, obliquely referencing the truth about the Duke's so-called curse, which he and Echlar alone had been told in private. They would find a way to break the news gently to Dastirum, much, much later, when the wounds were not so fresh and emotions not running quite so high. "It certainly doesn't hurt that he's soaking up the attention like a sponge. In fact, I have heard that Echlar is willing to take the young lady on as an apprentice, if she wishes. That makes her the first apprentice he has even considered in thirty years."
"You know what Collin told me today?" Eric replied, nodding across the common room to where the stocky Dastirite was dancing, if one was generous enough to call his wild movements 'dancing,' with his slightly embarrassed wife. "Dungeon Master showed up and told him, and Baris and Sora and Corheen, that they were all going to be his students now too, now that each of them has a Weapon of Power. I think he kind of wants to train people to be able to defend this town, you know?"
"Of course," Tolan agreed. "And because they have already fought once to defend their town when no one else did, it proves they are responsible and have the initiative it takes. You did well by giving them those Weapons."
"Glad to see the place is in good hands, then," Eric nodded. "Because as nice as this all is, we can't stay here forever." He sighed, knowing that it was always going to come down to this. When Dungeon Master had paid his visit to his new Dastirite students, he had also strongly hinted that his current pupils should consider traveling east within the week. And so, east they would go, leaving Dastirum behind them as they had left so many other towns and villages. No matter where they went and how many friends they made here in the Realm, they would always have to leave in the end. Questing for that one chance to get home left them no other option.
Tolan eyed the young Cavalier critically. "My offer still stands," he reminded. "Dastirum survives because of you and your friends. This great service to my Kingdom will never be forgotten so long as it is in our power to remember. If ever you decide to stay here in the Realm rather than questing for a way back to your world, Yarfell will gladly welcome with open arms heroes such as yourselves."
"Don't tempt me, Eric answered in all seriousness. Yarfell Proper sounded every bit as cosmopolitan and educated as wealthy Khadish. It was indeed a tempting offer, almost as tempting as the similar one Rahmoud had made them not too long ago. In either place, they'd have lives of ease and honor, and people who truly cared about them. But neither place was where Eric wanted to spend the rest of his life.
Sighing, Eric shook his head and, much to Lord Tolan's bafflement, clicked his heels together three times while reminding himself firmly, "There's no place like home ..."
ooo
It had been three days since the Young Ones had said their goodbyes, in some cases tearfully, and left Dastirum behind them.
Well-supplied by Lord Tolan before their departure, they had traveled easily over these last few days. Their rations were still in good supply, and they had encountered little that could qualify as excitement or danger while still within the borders of Yarfell. As they traveled generally east, the landscape had been nothing but absolutely beautiful. Flowers opened their bright faces to the sun in a riot of colors splashing through the green meadows, and the forests of this land, tended by the Wood Elves, were the most verdant and welcoming woods they had ever seen. It was, in fact, the most peaceful time they had ever spent in then woodlands of the Realm.
They had crossed the eastern border of the Kingdom of Yarfell earlier this morning, and the feeling of peace had not changed. Though they were expecting a visit from Dungeon Master at any time, so far, it had not come. It was now a little past noon, and their hearty lunch coupled with the quiet beauty of their picnic site left them all feeling a little lazy. With no quest to follow and no destination they needed to reach, what was the harm in resting a few hours here?
Kneeling by a nearby brook, Diana happily hummed a quiet song to herself as she splashed the clear and refreshingly cold water on her face. Sometimes the simple pleasures were the best. Nothing felt quite as good as washing away the dust and grime that came naturally with traveling on foot. Nothing, except perhaps a nice, long nap.
Between their filling lunch, the walking they had done, and the sweetly perfumed air of this flower-laden meadow, Diana felt comfortably drowsy and was more than happy to indulge herself. Lying back on the grass, she soaked up the warmth of the suns and let herself drift off.
Naps seemed to be the order of the hour. A little while ago, Bobby had been chasing Uni all around the meadow, or perhaps it had been the other way around and Uni was the one doing the chasing. Sometimes it was hard to tell, but either way, the youngsters had long since worn themselves out. Bobby was now snoozing soundly under a shady tree, with an equally sleeping Uni sprawled bonelessly across his knees.
Nearby, Hank and Sheila had also given in to the urge to nap. Lounging against the wide trunk of another tree, they pressed close to each other, Sheila dozing on Hank's shoulder, in the beginnings of another one of those annoyingly cute little cuddles that Eric would have surely commented on, had the Cavalier not been just as soundly asleep on the other side of the tree.
Presto, who was technically on watch, was the only one even pretending to be awake. He had been practicing his cantrips for the past few minutes. Following the wisdom the old Wizard Echlar had imparted, he was starting with small spells and working his way up. He already knew that, when push came to shove, he'd been able to cast a spell without the use of his Hat. He'd done it twice now, so it was time to develop that power more effectively.
Flopped out on his stomach, half paying attention and half fighting the urge to take a nap himself, Presto lifted his hand and focused on a spell as much as his sleepy mind would allow. If you want to summon the winds, Echlar had explained, start by learning how to call up a breeze.
A breeze it was. With a wave of his fingers and a burst of concentration, a small gust came out of nowhere, just enough to delicately scatter the white petals of the patch of flowers he'd been lying in.
Presto smiled, feeling sleepy but proud nonetheless. He'd done it, and, of course, nobody had seen it because they were all asleep. Well, maybe they had the right idea. A nice lie-down felt so inviting right now.
Rolling over onto his back, Presto stared up at the breathtaking azure sky. He could still keep watch like this. All he had to do was not fall asleep, but it was so peaceful here ...
The slight crack of a twig changed everything. At that mere sound, Diana instantly sprang to her feet, Staff extended and immediately awake. With his Bow already drawn, Hank was only half a second behind her, all senses on alert. Presto quickly scrambled to his feet, reaching for his Hat. He saw Eric was already up, with his Shield protectively in front of him as he advanced warily towards the source of the sound, a large bush growing near the brook. Sheila hung back a bit, ready to disappear, while Uni had leapt off Bobby's legs so the little Barbarian could spring up with his Club in hand.
Silently, they fanned out, circling the bush and eyeing it carefully as its small branches jerked and shuddered as if something alive were inside it. Whatever was hiding in its leaves, they could not tell, and did not know if it represented a danger to them. Was it something as harmless as a large bird looking for a roost? A wounded animal, perhaps? Or one of Venger's spies?
Much to their surprise, it was a young man. Weak, gaunt, dressed in worn clothing and looking much like the starving Dastirites of a week ago, he stumbled dizzily from the protective cover of the bush, clearly disoriented and unaware of what he was doing. He managed only a few unsteady steps before collapsing, unconscious, into a very surprised Diana's arms.
Eventually, once the young man had regained consciousness and they'd fed him a good meal of their trail rations, he would tell them his name was Kosar.
ooo
The End