Fate's Edge

It was raining.

Evelyn glanced up from the tome in her hands, staring out briefly through the narrow opening in stone that served as her window into the world. At least from her bedroom that was. As much as her father would have had her believe otherwise, the Keep's library was hardly a substitute for whatever ranged beyond those walls. She was sure of it.

The History of the Fateful Coin was hardly any more interesting than any of the other books she had been forced to read. At first, she had thought that it would tell something of the adventures of some kind of coin through the realms and how they ended up being 'fateful'. But as she read about Lady Luck either blessing or cursing each baby that entered the world by flipping a coin instead … she found herself as disappointed as always. Hers must have been called by Beshaba. She had all the worst luck.

She closed the tome and put it down with a sigh. Gorion made her keep a bookshelf in her room – as if that would have given her reason to like them more. He always seemed so intent on her learning everything … it was almost maddening! At least Imoen got mostly the same treatment, even if Winthrop was far easier on her than Gorion was on her best friend.

Still, at least he let her enjoy herself once in a while. A long, long while. Jondalar's exercise sessions seemed exceedingly pleasant next to long hours locked away in study. If she had been living on one of the farms, or even in the cities, she probably would have been betrothed by now. But Gorion would hardly have allowed that. He seemed very much as if he meant to keep her locked away forever, until she was as old and gray as he. It almost made her feel like one of those princesses out of Winthrop's stories, locked away until some gallant knight came to rescue them. But she wasn't nearly pretty enough for that.

Evelyn sighed again, standing, and replaced the book upon the shelf. She looked once more to the rains outside. She almost didn't hear the steps behind her.

She turned around … only to find her father standing there. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on her, studying her. She smiled up at him, but his face remained grim.

There was silence for some time then, as the old man seemed to look through her. It made her feel uneasy, but she would never have believed anything ill of him. When he made no move to comfort her, though, or to ease the hard edge to his features, she felt the smile slide off her face. After another moment, he spoke.

"Do you know what this day is, child?" he asked her then. Evelyn only shook her head.

"No. What is it?"

The other's voice was as hard and unyielding as stone.

"Today was the day that your mother died. Today was the day that I was given you."

She stared at him, unsure of just what to say. His tone was so cold and distant, he might as well have been talking to someone else. She wondered, briefly, if he even still knew that she was there. But when he moved past her toward her window, she had to move out of his way to avoid being pushed. She wasn't quite sure if that was an answer, though.

"I think the gods weep for that day."

He was staring at the rain, and she watched him, feeling suddenly very cold and alone. She wanted nothing more than for him to turn around and take her quickly into his arms and dispel the chill touch of his voice with the warmth of his beating heart. But she wasn't so sure if it was beating in there anymore. For a moment, the old man almost seemed as if he were dead. The gloom of the storm without did little to hide the sudden pale of his wrinkled skin.

"Father–"

"I am not your father, Evelyn," he spoke quickly over her, glancing back over his shoulder briefly. "I have raised you as my own, but I will not take credit for that spawning."

She was crying then. She bit her lip as she felt tears spring to her eyes. For several long moments, the old man's back before her was rigid, and straight. She wondered desperately just what she had done wrong, what she had done to upset him. Maybe he had realized just how much she hated reading those books … he loved those books …

The only sound for a time was her quietly sobbing there in the dim light.

And then Gorion seemed to come apart. His shoulders fell, and his whole frame slumped. He rounded slowly on her, and knelt down. She could barely see him through her tear-stained eyes. He took her gently by the shoulders.

"You look so very much like your mother," he told her then, quietly. She latched onto that voice now, instinctively drawn to the sudden warmth in it. There was great sadness too. She could feel it. "She was very beautiful."

She broke his hold on her, taking a few shaky steps forward. And then she wrapped her arms tightly around him. He wasn't angry at her, no … he was only sad … and lonely. She hugged him fiercely, willing whatever was hurting him desperately to go away.

He seemed surprised at first. But then he quickly softened. He hugged her back, wrapping his withered old hands tightly around her and rocking her gently in his arms.

"Foolish old man," she thought she heard him say. But she couldn't have been sure. All that mattered was what she did hear him say next. It was the first time she had ever heard him say those words to her in her entire, short life.

"I love you, Evelyn."

And there, swaying back and forth in his large arms, crying into his robes, she murmured back. "I love you too." But her voice was too quiet. He didn't hear her.

"Please," he continued softly. "No matter what happens … never forget that."

And she never had.

Evelyn slowly blinked her eyes open, looking up into the night. Or so she thought at first. After a moment, she recognized Coran's sharp features hovering just over her face. It was hard to tell with how close he was. She had to cross her eyes, and then caught barely more than a fuzzy sight of one of his own misty blue ones in return. His auburn mane was dangling around them both like a shroud.

"I love you too, sweetling."

Before she could do anything – before she could even think to do anything – he was diving into her lips, pressing in firmly against them with his own. Something tried to part hers and invade her mouth, but she was twisting violently away. She struck him in the chest with both her hands, and he fell back with a grunt.

She sat up, pulling the cloak that had been draped across her away as she glared ahead at the Elf. She swiped at her lips, but the other only laughed.

"My sincerest apologies, sweetling," he grinned at her impishly. "I thought you were speaking to me." He shrugged. "But I do like to think of your sweet lips as a rose forever in bloom, always ready to be picked."

She gave him a frown, wondering just what he meant. He cocked his head to one side at that, grinning all the more.

"You were mumbling in your sleep," he told her slowly, savoring every word. "Dreams of me, perhaps?" When she only scowled at him, he winked at her. "Some other would-be lover then?"

"No." She felt her cheeks flush. The man only seemed to take it to mean something else though, laughing anew.

"Then I suppose there must still be a chance for us, sweetling."

But she stopped listening. Instead she glanced down at the fresh tunic and leggings she was now wearing. From what little she remembered just before she had blacked out, she was sure they should have been painted all sorts of colors, and reeking just the same. The Elf seemed to glean her sudden interest.

"The Tethyrian woman and the younger one saw to taking care of your wounds and cleaning you," he told her lightly. "And it was a good thing too. Your charm would have been greatly stunted by the smell, I should think."

She glared up at him, and he shook his head.

"Do not worry, sweetling. I was far away when they washed and changed you."

The sudden wink he gave her, though, made that somewhat hard for her to believe.

She glanced around, but there was no fire that night. The moon was out though, and she could see the huddled, sleeping forms of the others all around them. And she could just barely make out the towering form of the Rashemi standing guard on the other side of that space beneath the trees. He spared them only a glance.

The forests crowded in close all about them, the branches thick in the air above. Wherever they were, it was well hidden at least. Coran followed her gaze, and seemed to guess at her thoughts once more.

"There was much need to keep ourselves hidden after fleeing the Wyverns," he said quietly, glancing upward. "At least one full-grown adult still hunts. And it cannot be pleased with the mess you left at its nest."

Memory came flooding back in on her, and she cringed as she remembered all that had happened in the cave. It was fortunate that they had taken the trouble to clean and redress her already. If she had awoken to see even half of just what she had fallen into in the cave, she would have retched. As it was, she could hardly even think of eating without feeling her stomach climb into her throat. The Elf was speaking to her.

"That was quite the performance you put on with the wizard, though. I've always been attracted to women of strong … character."

He was smiling at her again, but she hardly knew just what it was that he meant. Those last few moments had been a blur. She barely remembered anything after nearly being eaten.

"I must admit … I cannot thank you enough for what you did," he continued after a moment. "We found your handiwork in the nest quickly enough. You saved me a lot of trouble."

She shook her head at him, not sure just what he meant. And he gave her a puzzled frown.

"The Wyvern you killed … I cannot even begin to imagine just how you were able to do so."

"The Wyvern I …" she trailed off, looking away. She had killed it? How in all the Hells had she managed to do that?

But, she supposed, it didn't make much sense any other way. She was still alive, wasn't she? She must have done something … but she couldn't remember just what. She should have been thankful, she realized. But she could only cringe, and try not to tremble at the thought.

The man was waiting for her to speak, and she glanced up at him. But she hardly had anything to tell him. Instead, she asked, "What do you mean I saved you a lot of trouble?"

"Well," he flashed another ready smile at her, "I came to this wood to hunt Wyverns. The mayor of Beregost, a Master Keldath Ormlyr, was offering a hefty bounty for the heads of the beasts said to be menacing the folk near Cloakwood. And I was looking for a fresh adventure to bide my time for a spell."

Evelyn frowned, looking away again, trying to piece together the fragmented memories that were swimming around in her skull. The Elf continued in a more serious tone.

"To tell you the truth, I had not thought much of my chances before meeting you. So do not worry, sweetling, I will be sure to share the two thousand gold bounty with you. It is the least that I can do."

She looked up at him sharply, realizing then just what that meant. "You have the … here?" she asked quickly, but the other only shook his head.

"Far too heavy to carry on my back for long and still keep my pace. And I still have a fort to bring you to, sweetling. I'll keep my promises." He gave her a lop-sided smile. "I buried the head rather hastily somewhere where it hopefully won't be picked apart by scavengers, though I think the beasts might be loath to touch it. I will find it again when I am done helping you, sweetling."

Some piece of memory suddenly clicked back into place then.

"Edwin. Where is Edwin?" she demanded in a low voice, glancing quickly around. She remembered well enough just what he had done while they had all fought for their lives. Or rather, what he had not done.

"I would not worry about him, sweetling. You frightened him enough that I don't think he would challenge you again for a while yet."

Evelyn frowned, still trying to make sense of most of what he said. But she just couldn't remember. Still, she hadn't been worried about cowing the Thayan. She was going to make him answer for what he did. At least Dynaheir had been more than willing to help them.

After a moment, though, as she thought about it more, she realized that maybe she was wrong. She played those long, desperate moments over in her mind – just what she remembered of them – and realized that maybe the Rashemi hadn't been so willingly helpful either. Minsc had stepped in to fight the beasts, that much had been obvious. But Dynaheir had only intervened after Minsc had been threatened. She had never lifted a hand for anyone else … only her guardian. But that hardly told her anything she didn't already know before. Or thought she knew. She shook her head, letting it fall into her hands.

"You know, sweetling," the Elf suddenly chimed in thoughtfully. "I have been thinking."

She glanced up at him, wondering just how much of that thinking revolved around stealing more kisses from her. She supposed she would find out soon enough. He never seemed to be far from making some comment of the like whenever near her. But he surprised her by looking genuinely serious just then.

"This encampment you are intent upon," he began slowly, eyeing her carefully. "Perhaps I might help you in taking it. Provided," he added quickly, "you aren't fool enough to charge whatever enemies you might have within blindly. It would be fair compensation for completing my hunt for me, I think, though I hardly care for the thought of dying foolishly. And I seem to be between adventures just now. I think you owe me a new one, sweetling." He smiled at her at the last. "You did take my old one from me."

She stared at him doubtfully for a few moments, not saying anything just then. He leaned back, seeming as if he enjoyed that scrutiny for the moment, and doing his best to make it pleasant for her. But she was hardly measuring him for the worth he seemed to think. Instead she was looking through him.

He had helped them with the Wyverns, that much was true. He had warned them and helped keep them alive on their march north through the woods, and had certainly proved a capable guide thus far. She supposed, at the least, she could trust him not to be so reserved with his help as the Rashemi and the Thayan. And they would hardly know just how many men would be guarding the fort. They already must have known that she and the others were coming.

Eventually, she nodded.

"Alright," she told him, hoping as before that she had not made a mistake. The other leaned forward and clapped her on the arm.

"I knew you could not resist, sweetling!" He bounced quickly to his feet. "Now, get some more sleep before morning. I would offer to keep you company just a little while longer, but I have seen the dark looks the Tethyrian has been giving me every time I stray close to you. I do not think she would care to find me here at first light. Jealousy, I'm sure."

And then he winked at her with a knowing grin.

"Besides, I doubt you would have much rest if I stayed, and I would hardly jeopardize your wellbeing after so great an ordeal. I have my principles."

Then he was turning away, and leaving Evelyn to wonder just what he meant by that as he did. She hardly doubted he could have kept her awake if she had really wanted to sleep. She was tired still. She hardly found his conversations so interesting as to keep her from her bed. But, she supposed, it didn't matter.

And as she lay back down, bundling her cloak underneath and tucking her head against it … she willed dreams of Gorion to take her once more. She lay there for a time in the dark, letting them sneak up on her. She could almost feel his arms still around her … something she had forgotten so very long ago.

A tear slowly rolled down her cheek as they swallowed her into the night. And her lips didn't stop moving until she was gone.

"I love you too."

"This does not bode well."

Evelyn glanced up at Jaheira. The other woman grimaced over a hole in the leathers that she still wore, gathering up her belongings quickly in her pack. Evelyn had been forced to abandon her own leathers, as torn and stained with gore as they had been. It had been hard for her to do. She almost felt like she was loosing yet another piece of her old life with it. Not to mention, she felt somewhat exposed and far less protected now. But she didn't think it was that that the other woman had been referring to. She waited for her to continue.

"That the woodsman knew we were coming and was sent to stop us should tell us enough to know that they we will be expected. Someone has alerted them to our coming. And they will undoubtedly be ready and waiting."

Evelyn remembered what Peter had said on the bridge. The "quiet, dark one" was the one who had told them. But she hardly knew who that could be. She just hoped that he was not still watching them now.

"We have been being watched," the older woman muttered bitterly, echoing Evelyn's thoughts. "Possibly since Beregost. Even the bandits' camp. We will have to be careful."

"What about the Wyverns?" the raven-haired woman asked. The other only shook her head.

"There is only the one other we know of, but I think we will be safe so long as we put enough distance between it and us. It might very well have given up by now." She didn't sound too convinced of that. But Evelyn could hope.

Sometime later, she had finally cornered Edwin.

The wizard had been steering clear of her since she had awoken, but she was hardly about to let him hide again. He gave her a wary look as she stalked up toward him, her eyes hard and dangerous. He kept his hands at his sides, but she could see them begin to twitch.

"If you think I am going to let you endanger us all again, Edwin," she told him icily. "Then you are wrong."

Dead wrong, she added to herself. And she would make sure that that wasn't the only thing that would be dead if he did so again.

He narrowed his eyes at her, scowling. But she didn't let him speak.

"I should leave you right here," she told him, taking a step closer and lowering her voice. "I should leave you right here in the forest all alone. I should leave you for dead just like you would have left us."

"How dare you!" he spat at her suddenly then, clenching his fists. "I should burn you alive for your impudence! I offered you my help before, and you dismissed it. As if I were some charlatan playing at cheap tricks …"

But she held firm, taking another step forward. He took one back.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right here."

The slow words slipped off her tongue like drops of acid, and the other was shaking. She was sure only some of it was rage. Whatever Coran had thought she had done to him before, it had frightened him at least a little. He glanced quickly around, but even if anyone else was paying attention to them, they wouldn't have helped.

The other was taller than her, and she had to look up at him, but he seemed to feel so much smaller then. It was good to know that he was afraid of her, but it didn't help to think he was a coward too. If the Iron Throne encampment would be as fortified and ready as they knew it must be, they would need his magicks desperately. It was the only reason she didn't make good on her threats then and there. But she wasn't about to let him know that.

"One good reason, Edwin," she repeated coldly. She lifted her chin imperiously, as if she meant to kill him anyways and was only looking for some amusement first. The other seemed to take the gesture for what it was. He broke down almost instantly.

"The witch," he told her quickly, "she cannot be trusted. Neither of them can be trusted. You do not know what such a creature is capable of! She would murder you in an instant if it meant accomplishing her goals. And with her kind, you will never know until it is too late!"

He was rambling, almost shaking as he forced all the words out. She listened, but only paid them half a mind. She had heard much the same before.

"And what about you, Edwin?" she asked calmly, her face smooth. "Why should I trust a Red Wizard anymore than a Hathran?"

He started in surprise at that … at the thought that she knew just what both he and Dynaheir truly were. But she didn't. Not really. The witch might have told her just what kind of creature she was … or she might have lied. But that the other thought she knew more than he had realized was enough just then.

"I … I will keep the witch under my ever watchful gaze," he told her, seeming to regain some of his confidence then. "You may have thought me idle yesterday, but I did not let my guard down for a moment! If the witch had chosen that instant to attack only I could have stopped her. I needed to be ready at a moment's notice!"

She stared at him for a long time once he had finished. She could see the fear and doubt in his eyes, though he tried desperately to hide it. But finally, she nodded.

"Very well," she acceded mercifully. She tried as hard as she could to make it sound reluctant. "But you will do exactly what I say, when I say it. Am I understood?"

The man started to scowl, but stopped, thinking better of it. He nodded his bearded head instead.

As she turned away, she could hear him muttering loudly at her back. She was sure that he did not rein in the sneering look he had for her then. But it hardly mattered.

But Edwin wasn't the only one that showed some aversion to her that morning. No one had said anything to her, but she could still feel the scrutinizing eyes of some of them boring into her back. They were wary, and curious, to know just what it was that she had done yesterday. She had killed a Wyvern – not just one, but three … and a big one at that. She should have been dead. That was what they must have been thinking. She should have been dead. But she hardly knew what to tell them even if someone had had the courage to ask. That she couldn't remember made it all the more frightening.

The witch, however, was the only one she caught staring at her. She had watched the exchange with Edwin with no small amount of interest. Evelyn was sure that she would. But those dark eyes seemed to dance with excitement now. And the woman smiled when her gaze met Eve's own. For her part, Evelyn tried not to shiver.

Imoen was the only one who seemed to resist whatever fear she might have had of her best friend, unlike as Jaheira and Khalid who seemed to just outright ignore it for the moment. She half expected the other woman to be the only one brave enough to stand near her friend as they started off to continue their march north, Coran at their fore. But it was Xan who came up at her side instead, looking sober and grim. He didn't say a word to her, merely walked along beside. But Evelyn didn't have much to say either.

That she had done something terrible and frightening was certain enough. She could see it in everyone else's faces, no matter how much they tried to hide it. Whatever it was, it had been worse than bringing Kivan or Imoen back from the brink of death. No one else knew it yet, but it might have even been worse than sucking the life out of that one assassin back in Nashkel. And that she couldn't remember just what it was for the life of her … that scared her more than anything.

It started to rain.