Disclaimer: No animals were hurt in the making of this chapter. Lodoss is
not mine, nor are it's characters. Just Veris and various assorted NPCs.
(^-^)
Chapter 18: Lapse
"Yes," the voice continued, a bit shakily, "the last time there was a storm so late in the season was when Shooting Star returned the first time."
The inside of the tavern was dim, lit only by a merrily blazing fire from within a deep, ancient fireplace. A hunched figure walked forward towards them out of the dimness, and Ashuram felt himself relax slightly, hand moving away from the swords hanging at his hip.
It was an old man, thin and fragile looking, white beard curling gently about his chin. Age had made his eyelids droop so that his eyes looked thin and squinting, as though he were permanently smiling. He wore sturdy mountain clothes, with a thick leather belt in which he had tucked his hands.
"Who are you, old man?" the Witch asked. Her voice sounded thin and stifled inside, just barely audible over the plaintively whistling wind.
"That's my father-in-law," a tiny woman said, coming out of what Ashuram guessed was the kitchen. She wore a spotless apron and a knit cap on her head. She truly had to be one of the shortest - human- women that Ashuram had ever seen. He doubted she reached much taller than his lowest rib. She had a broad, smiling face that reflected the firelight comfortably.
"You'll have to forgive him; we don't get many visitors, especially not from out of town."
"There have been more since Valis won the war," the old man said mildly, sounding not at all offended by the woman's words.
"That still means only one or two a month, Da," the woman replied, and smiled at Ashuram as if asking for his patience.
"True." The old man subsided, whuffling in a slightly disgruntled fashion into the soft curls of his beard.
"Anyway, have you traveled far?" The woman asked them, wiping her hands on her apron as if to signify she was ready to do business. The Witch did not even give a sign that she had heard the woman's words, so Ashuram answered her:
"Far enough." She nodded.
"It's lucky you found us when you did. It's fixing to blow up a proper mountain storm outside, and Gatetown is the only town from here until you reach Valis. That would certainly be a long walk in this weather." Ashuram made an affirmative gesture, not interested in making small talk. There was a pause.
"You must be thirsty," the woman continued. "I'll get you something warm to drink." She addressed her words to the Witch, who looked as though she were only barely listening.
"Mulled wine for me please," Karla said after a moment. The woman nodded again.
"And for your gentleman?" There was a sudden strained silence, in which Ashuram's hand found the hilt of his sword. It was broken by a laugh spilling from Karla's throat, and the hated sound filled Ashuram's ears and grated against his nerves. He clenched his jaw.
"For him, too," the Witch replied, glancing maliciously over at the Black Knight.
"I am not her gentleman," Ashuram growled in bitten, short syllables.
"Two mulled wines," the woman nodded, looking completely nonplused by either of her visitors. Ashuram had the realization that in Gatetown, she had probably seen just about everything.
"Da, why don't you show them to a seat. I'll be right back."
"Over here," the old man said, gesturing to a table beside the fireplace. "The warmest spot in the house." Karla went to go sit down, but Ashuram walked over to the fireplace. He held his hands out to the blazing fire, soaking up the heat. The cold had gone completely through his damp cloak to equally damp skin, and he had the chills.
The old man, upon seeing them seated, trudged off. He seemed to realize he would find little conversation at their table. A silence fell over the tavern, broken by the crackling of the fire and the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. Outside it grew darker as the storm came through.
"Parn is in Valis," the Witch said suddenly. "With the sword. I know for sure now." Her voice was triumphant, but the half-elven face she spoke with looked drawn and tired. There were dark half-moons under the hazy green eyes.
Ashuram, as was his habit, said nothing, despite his interest.
"Slayn and the brainless doll that is Neese's daughter also return to Valis." The Witch spoke as if she were watching something far away, and her voice was thin as if it came from a distance. Ashuram held his peace.
The Witch suddenly looked at him straight on, half-lidded eyes trained directly on his.
"I grow weary of your reticence," she said, and it was the first time he had ever heard her sound less than coolly calm. "You will speak when spoken to." Ashuram felt his mouth open forcibly.
"I..am..listening," Ashuram said, each word a struggle, forced out by a will that was not his own. *I am waiting. One day you will make a mistake, old hag.*
"Good. The good cleric Etoh is also in Valis, as is King Kashue. Slayn and Leylia will be there within the moon, and I can only assume the weasel thief will also make his way there. Why, it is a regular reunion of heroes."
"All.I.care..for.is.the.sword." Ashuram grated out unwillingly. One of the Witch's eyebrows raised dubiously.
"Really? Is that all?" She chuckled nastily. "I thought it was revenge you were after. The match is not finished between you and the free Knight Parn."
"Who.are.you.to..judge?" Another cruel sound of amusement.
"One far more powerful than you, Black Knight. As you must realize by now." They fell silent as the door to the kitchen opened again and the woman brought out a tray with their mulled wine. She disappeared back into the kitchen soon after with the promise of a warm dinner.
Ashuram sipped the mulled wine. He found it curious that the Witch had ordered wine; as far as he knew, she had never eaten or drank anything before. At least, he had never seen her do it - which made him wonder how she was keeping Veris' body alive. But now the Witch sipped gently at the wine, seeming to savor the taste, the steam from the flagon gently swirling in her face.
"Why..do you enjoy.needling me?" Ashuram asked. The Witch laughed.
"Because it is so easy," she replied. "As I must travel as humans do, I will try to make it enjoyable for myself."
"I make.a.very.bad.enemy," he replied because he had to. The Witch chuckled, loud and mirthfully.
"And very bad threats as well. Empty words. Drink your wine and return to your sullen silence." Ashuram felt the spell leave him.
The anger that raged in him was different now. This was cold, calculating anger - the kind he enjoyed, because he could use it to his best advantage. It was much different than the sudden blinding rage he had felt when Karla had told him she had mimicked Pirotess for her own whims. He sipped his wine quite calmly, and kept silent as she had bid.
* * * * * * *
There were no rooms in the tavern. They had been given the loft of the barn to sleep in, which was spread thick with hay, and several thick blankets to ward off the cold. No candles were allowed in the barn for obvious reasons, and the Witch had lit the loft with eerie, floating globes of soft light that seemed to hover in the corners and bob slightly up and down.
Outside, the wind blew particles of snow against the roof hard enough that it sounded like sand blowing. Below them came the sound of horses, snorting softly and stamping, or shifting their weight in their sleep.
At least, Ashuram thought, the hay looked clean and not too old and dusty. He made a pallet for himself by sweeping the hay into a soft pile, with the economical gestures of one who has done such a thing before. He lay a blanket over the hay to keep a barrier between his soft skin and the stiff grass ends, and lay down. The other blanket he pulled on top of himself. He was secure in the knowledge he would be warm that night; if he grew cold, he could simply pile more hay on top of himself. He knew from experience that hay made excellent insulation.
The Witch also seemed to have decided to lay down, for she spread a blanket over the hay and sat upon it, seeming to sink down on the blanket as though the string holding her upright had been cut. Ashuram watched her curiously. This was odd behavior from the Witch. He had never seen her display any weariness before, and he wondered if she realized how baldly it showed now to him. A feeling of anticipation rose in his gut, and he set it aside hastily. He would, as he was quite good at doing, watch and wait. Perhaps tonight would be the night he put and end to her interference.
Ashuram settled himself under the blankets, using his pack as a pillow and adjusting his swords so they didn't dig into him when he shifted but were in easy reach. He closed his eyes and, utilizing a trick he had learned when still a page, fell into a light, dozing sleep that he could shed easily if he had to.
He slept.
* * * * * * *
Veris waited. The Witch was very tired, and Veris knew another chance to return to her own body might come again soon. She knew the way of it now, how to wait, when and where to push. It was only a matter of time.
Something was distracting the Witch. It seemed her powers were spread thin over many long distances, and Veris knew with a certainty that reached down to a cellular level that the Witch was exhausting herself. Whatever she was keeping an eye on was draining her. Veris also knew, with the same cellular certainty that came from having to share a body with her, that the Witch was very, very old. She no longer thought like a human, if she had ever been one in the first place. She had an ego bigger than the island of Lodoss. Veris wondered, vaguely, if the Witch even realized herself how exhausted she was becoming. Perhaps her pride would not let her see it. Sometimes that happened to some of Veris' patients - they would wear themselves out without realizing it, and suddenly come down with a horrible cold because their defenses were exhausted.
Veris could not help but wonder what it was Karla was after. What did she have in mind for Ashuram? Veris' own part in the Witch's plot had already come abundantly clear. The indignance Veris felt at being used as a *host* simply added to her fiercely burning determination to rid herself of the Witch. She had the feeling that if only she tried hard enough, she could somehow reject Karla's magic. The only trick, however, was in how to do it. She had yet to figure that out, so she waited, keeping her thoughts to herself.
Gradually, she felt the Witch's thoughts begin to slow. Veris' body, in reaction, slowed down - her heart rate grew slow, and her breathing more even and deep. Veris had the inclination to think calming, soothing thoughts to ease the Witch into slumber, but decided Karla was too smart for that and would catch on. She waited, hardly daring to hope.
At last, Veris felt Karla's hold slip. The spells restraining Veris loosened, and she pushed through into consciousness.
Veris came back to her body more gently this time, with far less confusion. She came to herself, and slowly opened her eyes.
If she had breath to scream, she would have. Poised above her, Elven sword in his hands, green light from the naked blade reflecting in his pale, angular face, crouched Ashuram. There was a look of determination in the set of his thin lips, and his eyes were flat. He had curled both hands around the hilt and the tip of the sword was pointing at her heart. Veris had no doubts as to his intentions.
* * * * * * *
Ashuram woke when the witch lights went out. He lay still, blinking in the darkness, breathing quietly. Waiting for his eyes to get used to the dark, he listened.
He could not hear anything over the storm. It took a long time for his eyes to get used to the darkness of the loft. There were no stars or moon. Even when he could see dimly, the Witch was simply a dark shape lying flat on the hay several paces away.
Ashuram got to his feet stealthily. There was nothing for it but to look. If he failed at this chance, he was not sure when there would be another, but he had to try. His pride demanded it.
Silently, he unsheathed the Elven sword. For a moment he frowned at it, looking at it in the darkness. It seemed to glow faintly, so that he could see the runes stand out against the metal. Gripping the hilt tightly, he crept forward over the hay, one silent footstep after another.
It seemed to take forever, but at last he was standing over the Witch. As he had suspected, her eyes were closed, her breaths deep and even. The Witch was asleep.
For just a second, Ashuram hesitated, looking down at the half- elven face. *Sorry, Healer Veris.* With a real moment of regret, he raised the sword to plunge it into her heart should he have to, and reached for the circlet.
At that moment, two things happened at once. Suddenly, the Elven sword blazed to life, dazzling him with its green intensity.
As his eyes were blinded by the sudden light, he looked down to find the Witch's eyes were wide open, looking up at him through the green glare, the whites highly visible and wide around the irises.
All he could think was *hell, hell! It's over. That was my chance.*
"Ash?" It was a breath so soft he thought he had imagined it at first. He frowned. That did not sound like the Witch.
Her hand came up to touch his, to stop the descent of the sword.
"Healer Veris?" He leaned forward to look down at her. There was no purple haze over her wide eyes, and the circlet looked dead.
"Yes, it's I," she said, and her voice was so soft and far away, it was as if she were speaking to him from the end of a long passageway. He could barely hear her.
"I can't.hold.very long," she continued quickly, breathily. "Take.circlet..Break it. Watch for chance..not tonight. I know how to .do it now."
"Not tonight?" Ashuram snarled. "If not tonight, when?"
"Soon. watch. I have.an idea.keep Elven sword close by." Her eyelashes fluttered. "She comes..hurry..can't hold it. quick!" Ashuram nodded, somehow realizing what she meant. He sheathed the Elven sword and made his way back to his pallet with the speed he could muster, settling himself and calming his breathing as best he was able.
Behind his closed eyelids, he sensed when the witch lights came back on faintly, illuminating the loft. He heard the Witch stir, but she said nothing and all remained quiet.
Ashuram concentrated on breathing deeply and slowly, trying to calm the racing of his heart. For some reason, he knew now, he trusted the Healer. If she had said she had a plan, he thought it might work. He would continue to watch, and wait.for just a bit longer.
Chapter 18: Lapse
"Yes," the voice continued, a bit shakily, "the last time there was a storm so late in the season was when Shooting Star returned the first time."
The inside of the tavern was dim, lit only by a merrily blazing fire from within a deep, ancient fireplace. A hunched figure walked forward towards them out of the dimness, and Ashuram felt himself relax slightly, hand moving away from the swords hanging at his hip.
It was an old man, thin and fragile looking, white beard curling gently about his chin. Age had made his eyelids droop so that his eyes looked thin and squinting, as though he were permanently smiling. He wore sturdy mountain clothes, with a thick leather belt in which he had tucked his hands.
"Who are you, old man?" the Witch asked. Her voice sounded thin and stifled inside, just barely audible over the plaintively whistling wind.
"That's my father-in-law," a tiny woman said, coming out of what Ashuram guessed was the kitchen. She wore a spotless apron and a knit cap on her head. She truly had to be one of the shortest - human- women that Ashuram had ever seen. He doubted she reached much taller than his lowest rib. She had a broad, smiling face that reflected the firelight comfortably.
"You'll have to forgive him; we don't get many visitors, especially not from out of town."
"There have been more since Valis won the war," the old man said mildly, sounding not at all offended by the woman's words.
"That still means only one or two a month, Da," the woman replied, and smiled at Ashuram as if asking for his patience.
"True." The old man subsided, whuffling in a slightly disgruntled fashion into the soft curls of his beard.
"Anyway, have you traveled far?" The woman asked them, wiping her hands on her apron as if to signify she was ready to do business. The Witch did not even give a sign that she had heard the woman's words, so Ashuram answered her:
"Far enough." She nodded.
"It's lucky you found us when you did. It's fixing to blow up a proper mountain storm outside, and Gatetown is the only town from here until you reach Valis. That would certainly be a long walk in this weather." Ashuram made an affirmative gesture, not interested in making small talk. There was a pause.
"You must be thirsty," the woman continued. "I'll get you something warm to drink." She addressed her words to the Witch, who looked as though she were only barely listening.
"Mulled wine for me please," Karla said after a moment. The woman nodded again.
"And for your gentleman?" There was a sudden strained silence, in which Ashuram's hand found the hilt of his sword. It was broken by a laugh spilling from Karla's throat, and the hated sound filled Ashuram's ears and grated against his nerves. He clenched his jaw.
"For him, too," the Witch replied, glancing maliciously over at the Black Knight.
"I am not her gentleman," Ashuram growled in bitten, short syllables.
"Two mulled wines," the woman nodded, looking completely nonplused by either of her visitors. Ashuram had the realization that in Gatetown, she had probably seen just about everything.
"Da, why don't you show them to a seat. I'll be right back."
"Over here," the old man said, gesturing to a table beside the fireplace. "The warmest spot in the house." Karla went to go sit down, but Ashuram walked over to the fireplace. He held his hands out to the blazing fire, soaking up the heat. The cold had gone completely through his damp cloak to equally damp skin, and he had the chills.
The old man, upon seeing them seated, trudged off. He seemed to realize he would find little conversation at their table. A silence fell over the tavern, broken by the crackling of the fire and the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. Outside it grew darker as the storm came through.
"Parn is in Valis," the Witch said suddenly. "With the sword. I know for sure now." Her voice was triumphant, but the half-elven face she spoke with looked drawn and tired. There were dark half-moons under the hazy green eyes.
Ashuram, as was his habit, said nothing, despite his interest.
"Slayn and the brainless doll that is Neese's daughter also return to Valis." The Witch spoke as if she were watching something far away, and her voice was thin as if it came from a distance. Ashuram held his peace.
The Witch suddenly looked at him straight on, half-lidded eyes trained directly on his.
"I grow weary of your reticence," she said, and it was the first time he had ever heard her sound less than coolly calm. "You will speak when spoken to." Ashuram felt his mouth open forcibly.
"I..am..listening," Ashuram said, each word a struggle, forced out by a will that was not his own. *I am waiting. One day you will make a mistake, old hag.*
"Good. The good cleric Etoh is also in Valis, as is King Kashue. Slayn and Leylia will be there within the moon, and I can only assume the weasel thief will also make his way there. Why, it is a regular reunion of heroes."
"All.I.care..for.is.the.sword." Ashuram grated out unwillingly. One of the Witch's eyebrows raised dubiously.
"Really? Is that all?" She chuckled nastily. "I thought it was revenge you were after. The match is not finished between you and the free Knight Parn."
"Who.are.you.to..judge?" Another cruel sound of amusement.
"One far more powerful than you, Black Knight. As you must realize by now." They fell silent as the door to the kitchen opened again and the woman brought out a tray with their mulled wine. She disappeared back into the kitchen soon after with the promise of a warm dinner.
Ashuram sipped the mulled wine. He found it curious that the Witch had ordered wine; as far as he knew, she had never eaten or drank anything before. At least, he had never seen her do it - which made him wonder how she was keeping Veris' body alive. But now the Witch sipped gently at the wine, seeming to savor the taste, the steam from the flagon gently swirling in her face.
"Why..do you enjoy.needling me?" Ashuram asked. The Witch laughed.
"Because it is so easy," she replied. "As I must travel as humans do, I will try to make it enjoyable for myself."
"I make.a.very.bad.enemy," he replied because he had to. The Witch chuckled, loud and mirthfully.
"And very bad threats as well. Empty words. Drink your wine and return to your sullen silence." Ashuram felt the spell leave him.
The anger that raged in him was different now. This was cold, calculating anger - the kind he enjoyed, because he could use it to his best advantage. It was much different than the sudden blinding rage he had felt when Karla had told him she had mimicked Pirotess for her own whims. He sipped his wine quite calmly, and kept silent as she had bid.
* * * * * * *
There were no rooms in the tavern. They had been given the loft of the barn to sleep in, which was spread thick with hay, and several thick blankets to ward off the cold. No candles were allowed in the barn for obvious reasons, and the Witch had lit the loft with eerie, floating globes of soft light that seemed to hover in the corners and bob slightly up and down.
Outside, the wind blew particles of snow against the roof hard enough that it sounded like sand blowing. Below them came the sound of horses, snorting softly and stamping, or shifting their weight in their sleep.
At least, Ashuram thought, the hay looked clean and not too old and dusty. He made a pallet for himself by sweeping the hay into a soft pile, with the economical gestures of one who has done such a thing before. He lay a blanket over the hay to keep a barrier between his soft skin and the stiff grass ends, and lay down. The other blanket he pulled on top of himself. He was secure in the knowledge he would be warm that night; if he grew cold, he could simply pile more hay on top of himself. He knew from experience that hay made excellent insulation.
The Witch also seemed to have decided to lay down, for she spread a blanket over the hay and sat upon it, seeming to sink down on the blanket as though the string holding her upright had been cut. Ashuram watched her curiously. This was odd behavior from the Witch. He had never seen her display any weariness before, and he wondered if she realized how baldly it showed now to him. A feeling of anticipation rose in his gut, and he set it aside hastily. He would, as he was quite good at doing, watch and wait. Perhaps tonight would be the night he put and end to her interference.
Ashuram settled himself under the blankets, using his pack as a pillow and adjusting his swords so they didn't dig into him when he shifted but were in easy reach. He closed his eyes and, utilizing a trick he had learned when still a page, fell into a light, dozing sleep that he could shed easily if he had to.
He slept.
* * * * * * *
Veris waited. The Witch was very tired, and Veris knew another chance to return to her own body might come again soon. She knew the way of it now, how to wait, when and where to push. It was only a matter of time.
Something was distracting the Witch. It seemed her powers were spread thin over many long distances, and Veris knew with a certainty that reached down to a cellular level that the Witch was exhausting herself. Whatever she was keeping an eye on was draining her. Veris also knew, with the same cellular certainty that came from having to share a body with her, that the Witch was very, very old. She no longer thought like a human, if she had ever been one in the first place. She had an ego bigger than the island of Lodoss. Veris wondered, vaguely, if the Witch even realized herself how exhausted she was becoming. Perhaps her pride would not let her see it. Sometimes that happened to some of Veris' patients - they would wear themselves out without realizing it, and suddenly come down with a horrible cold because their defenses were exhausted.
Veris could not help but wonder what it was Karla was after. What did she have in mind for Ashuram? Veris' own part in the Witch's plot had already come abundantly clear. The indignance Veris felt at being used as a *host* simply added to her fiercely burning determination to rid herself of the Witch. She had the feeling that if only she tried hard enough, she could somehow reject Karla's magic. The only trick, however, was in how to do it. She had yet to figure that out, so she waited, keeping her thoughts to herself.
Gradually, she felt the Witch's thoughts begin to slow. Veris' body, in reaction, slowed down - her heart rate grew slow, and her breathing more even and deep. Veris had the inclination to think calming, soothing thoughts to ease the Witch into slumber, but decided Karla was too smart for that and would catch on. She waited, hardly daring to hope.
At last, Veris felt Karla's hold slip. The spells restraining Veris loosened, and she pushed through into consciousness.
Veris came back to her body more gently this time, with far less confusion. She came to herself, and slowly opened her eyes.
If she had breath to scream, she would have. Poised above her, Elven sword in his hands, green light from the naked blade reflecting in his pale, angular face, crouched Ashuram. There was a look of determination in the set of his thin lips, and his eyes were flat. He had curled both hands around the hilt and the tip of the sword was pointing at her heart. Veris had no doubts as to his intentions.
* * * * * * *
Ashuram woke when the witch lights went out. He lay still, blinking in the darkness, breathing quietly. Waiting for his eyes to get used to the dark, he listened.
He could not hear anything over the storm. It took a long time for his eyes to get used to the darkness of the loft. There were no stars or moon. Even when he could see dimly, the Witch was simply a dark shape lying flat on the hay several paces away.
Ashuram got to his feet stealthily. There was nothing for it but to look. If he failed at this chance, he was not sure when there would be another, but he had to try. His pride demanded it.
Silently, he unsheathed the Elven sword. For a moment he frowned at it, looking at it in the darkness. It seemed to glow faintly, so that he could see the runes stand out against the metal. Gripping the hilt tightly, he crept forward over the hay, one silent footstep after another.
It seemed to take forever, but at last he was standing over the Witch. As he had suspected, her eyes were closed, her breaths deep and even. The Witch was asleep.
For just a second, Ashuram hesitated, looking down at the half- elven face. *Sorry, Healer Veris.* With a real moment of regret, he raised the sword to plunge it into her heart should he have to, and reached for the circlet.
At that moment, two things happened at once. Suddenly, the Elven sword blazed to life, dazzling him with its green intensity.
As his eyes were blinded by the sudden light, he looked down to find the Witch's eyes were wide open, looking up at him through the green glare, the whites highly visible and wide around the irises.
All he could think was *hell, hell! It's over. That was my chance.*
"Ash?" It was a breath so soft he thought he had imagined it at first. He frowned. That did not sound like the Witch.
Her hand came up to touch his, to stop the descent of the sword.
"Healer Veris?" He leaned forward to look down at her. There was no purple haze over her wide eyes, and the circlet looked dead.
"Yes, it's I," she said, and her voice was so soft and far away, it was as if she were speaking to him from the end of a long passageway. He could barely hear her.
"I can't.hold.very long," she continued quickly, breathily. "Take.circlet..Break it. Watch for chance..not tonight. I know how to .do it now."
"Not tonight?" Ashuram snarled. "If not tonight, when?"
"Soon. watch. I have.an idea.keep Elven sword close by." Her eyelashes fluttered. "She comes..hurry..can't hold it. quick!" Ashuram nodded, somehow realizing what she meant. He sheathed the Elven sword and made his way back to his pallet with the speed he could muster, settling himself and calming his breathing as best he was able.
Behind his closed eyelids, he sensed when the witch lights came back on faintly, illuminating the loft. He heard the Witch stir, but she said nothing and all remained quiet.
Ashuram concentrated on breathing deeply and slowly, trying to calm the racing of his heart. For some reason, he knew now, he trusted the Healer. If she had said she had a plan, he thought it might work. He would continue to watch, and wait.for just a bit longer.