When Tyrion and Alarielle stopped running, the fires at the Evercourt had
finally died out.
Tyrion was the first to stop, gasping in pain. The wound in his side hurt
him more than he would care to admit, but in the urgency of escape, the
pain had been shunted aside for a later hour. Now, to be precise.
The elf-lord gasped and hobbled two steps to a nearby rock, upon which he
sat. Then he inspected his wounds. He was, more or less, covered in blood
all over (though fortunately, not all his!) The largest concentration of
the stuff was where the witch elf had stabbed him. He barely noticed the
Everqueen stagger over to collapse by him, he was so intent upon the wound.
Slowly he removed the cloth tied around his waist that staunched the flow of blood. Then after that had been removed he pulled his shirt off. The sight below was not pretty. The angle of the blow was such that it had missed his internal organs, fortunately, but it was messy, and there was a strange smell about it that he could not place. He shuddered when he thought of the venom dark elves were said to employ, and hoped for the best. "Let me see that," Alarielle said softly. "It isn't nice," he warned, but turned to her anyway. Alarielle blanched. "I've never seen so much blood before," she said in a revolted tone. "It's a peaceful life in Avelorn. No wars. Had this not happened, you never would have, I'm sure." "Hold still," Alarielle ordered. "I have some magic available to me from Isha. I may be able to heal it." "Please do," said Tyrion sincerely. "I fear that it is poisoned." Alarielle lay one light hand on the wound. Tyrion flinched, but stood still. Then the Everqueen began to speak words of arcane power, words of peace and tranquility, words of healing. Her hand glowed, as did Tyrion's side, a glow that grew incandescent and painful to gaze upon. Tyrion squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the light to fade. The blood had lessened, and the torn skin had knitted together, but there was still a large bleeding patch. Alarielle frowned. "That should be gone now." "It's better. That's blessing enough." She still looked dissatisfied, but left it there. "Now, is there anything I can clean this with?" she said, indicating her bloodied palm. "There's a stream just back there a bit." She grumbled and went to wash off. Tyrion re-bound his wounds and put his shirt on again, his skin cringing at the feel of the dirtied cloth. "It's a pity," he remarked wryly to no one in particular, "that I didn't remember to bring a change of clothes along with me!" After he had finished, he went of to find the Everqueen. She was just a small way away, through a few trees, kneeling in front of the stream. Her staff lay by her, and her shoulders shook. Tears, Tyrion realized. He dropped down beside her. "What's wrong?" he asked in his most sympathetic voice. Alarielle turned to him. Tears spoiled her lovely face. "It's all gone, isn't it? All my friends dead. All my people slaughtered. Why?!" Slowly, wondering if this was the right thing to do, Tyrion put an arm around the distraught Everqueen. Apparently it was, because she responded, hurling both arms around the elf-lord and burying her head in his shoulder. Tyrion patted her back. "You have to be strong. We'll go to Saphery, to the White Tower. They'll be able to help us." The amount of tears did not cease, and Tyrion continued to hold her gently until the tears finally ended, and Tyrion realized she was asleep.
"You could have been a trifle more diplomatic, you know," said Belannaer in a tone that indicated his amusement. "The High Loremaster had all the proof he needed laid out neatly in front of him, and he didn't do anything!" fumed Teclis. "And now you leave the tower - for what purpose? Where do you intend to go now? You cannot divine your brother's location from the bond, you know." Teclis looked up from the small bag he was stuffing with clothes and provisions. "I'll find him." Pressing on, Belannaer noted, "With the Dark Elves attacking, the route to him will be fraught with all manner of danger. Have you forgotten your weakness? What would you do if faced with a war party of them?" Teclis snapped, "Are you on my side or not? All I hear are efforts to dissuade me from my chosen path!" The older mage was not phased by the younger one's temper. "I am just pointing out the obstacles on your chosen path. You know I support you wholeheartedly." Teclis had finished packing now, and he went and embraced his master briefly. "I know. Then he turned for the door. "Oh," said Belannaer off-handedly, "I have some things for you." Teclis turned as his master pulled out from under his robes a plain brown scrip, and removed from it, firstly, several vials. "Some more doses of that potion of yours." Due to his weakness, Teclis required a special herbal potion to maintain his strength, which the Loremasters had had prepared for him. "It should be enough to last you for a while." The second item came out, a plain steel sword, simply crafted and bland of ornamentation, wrapped in soft pig leather cloths. "My first sword. It could be useful as a form of protection. Teclis eyed it dubiously, so Belannaer added, "It is more powerful than it looks. There are runes of piercing, and also of lightning, engraved upon the blade." "And the final item," Belannaer said as he hefted the still heavy bag, "took forever to allow the High Loremaster to allow to lend to me. If he found out that I gave it to you, who knows what could happen to me! But a little foretelling prompted me to do this as the wisest path, so I doubt I shall face any repercussions. And you will find it of immense use." With that he emptied the bag out over Teclis' bed. Something large and heavy fell out, and the astounded Teclis gaped at the War Crown of Saphery. The War Crown was one of Ulthuan's greatest artifacts. It enhanced the power of any magic user wearing it, greatly. A master of sorcery such as Belannaer - or Teclis himself, for that matter, for all that his powers were still untried - would be an unstoppable force while the War Crown was seated on their head. "These. they are princely gifts, Master," croaked Teclis hoarsely. "You can call me Belannaer, now, Teclis," said his mentor. "And before you say it, there is no way you can repay me, and no need to, anyway. Repayment is for lesser people. Just prove yourself worthy of them." Belannaer piled the items back into the bag, and handed it to Teclis. "Good hunting." "Fare well," Teclis replied. Then he turned and swept out of the door.
Slowly he removed the cloth tied around his waist that staunched the flow of blood. Then after that had been removed he pulled his shirt off. The sight below was not pretty. The angle of the blow was such that it had missed his internal organs, fortunately, but it was messy, and there was a strange smell about it that he could not place. He shuddered when he thought of the venom dark elves were said to employ, and hoped for the best. "Let me see that," Alarielle said softly. "It isn't nice," he warned, but turned to her anyway. Alarielle blanched. "I've never seen so much blood before," she said in a revolted tone. "It's a peaceful life in Avelorn. No wars. Had this not happened, you never would have, I'm sure." "Hold still," Alarielle ordered. "I have some magic available to me from Isha. I may be able to heal it." "Please do," said Tyrion sincerely. "I fear that it is poisoned." Alarielle lay one light hand on the wound. Tyrion flinched, but stood still. Then the Everqueen began to speak words of arcane power, words of peace and tranquility, words of healing. Her hand glowed, as did Tyrion's side, a glow that grew incandescent and painful to gaze upon. Tyrion squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the light to fade. The blood had lessened, and the torn skin had knitted together, but there was still a large bleeding patch. Alarielle frowned. "That should be gone now." "It's better. That's blessing enough." She still looked dissatisfied, but left it there. "Now, is there anything I can clean this with?" she said, indicating her bloodied palm. "There's a stream just back there a bit." She grumbled and went to wash off. Tyrion re-bound his wounds and put his shirt on again, his skin cringing at the feel of the dirtied cloth. "It's a pity," he remarked wryly to no one in particular, "that I didn't remember to bring a change of clothes along with me!" After he had finished, he went of to find the Everqueen. She was just a small way away, through a few trees, kneeling in front of the stream. Her staff lay by her, and her shoulders shook. Tears, Tyrion realized. He dropped down beside her. "What's wrong?" he asked in his most sympathetic voice. Alarielle turned to him. Tears spoiled her lovely face. "It's all gone, isn't it? All my friends dead. All my people slaughtered. Why?!" Slowly, wondering if this was the right thing to do, Tyrion put an arm around the distraught Everqueen. Apparently it was, because she responded, hurling both arms around the elf-lord and burying her head in his shoulder. Tyrion patted her back. "You have to be strong. We'll go to Saphery, to the White Tower. They'll be able to help us." The amount of tears did not cease, and Tyrion continued to hold her gently until the tears finally ended, and Tyrion realized she was asleep.
"You could have been a trifle more diplomatic, you know," said Belannaer in a tone that indicated his amusement. "The High Loremaster had all the proof he needed laid out neatly in front of him, and he didn't do anything!" fumed Teclis. "And now you leave the tower - for what purpose? Where do you intend to go now? You cannot divine your brother's location from the bond, you know." Teclis looked up from the small bag he was stuffing with clothes and provisions. "I'll find him." Pressing on, Belannaer noted, "With the Dark Elves attacking, the route to him will be fraught with all manner of danger. Have you forgotten your weakness? What would you do if faced with a war party of them?" Teclis snapped, "Are you on my side or not? All I hear are efforts to dissuade me from my chosen path!" The older mage was not phased by the younger one's temper. "I am just pointing out the obstacles on your chosen path. You know I support you wholeheartedly." Teclis had finished packing now, and he went and embraced his master briefly. "I know. Then he turned for the door. "Oh," said Belannaer off-handedly, "I have some things for you." Teclis turned as his master pulled out from under his robes a plain brown scrip, and removed from it, firstly, several vials. "Some more doses of that potion of yours." Due to his weakness, Teclis required a special herbal potion to maintain his strength, which the Loremasters had had prepared for him. "It should be enough to last you for a while." The second item came out, a plain steel sword, simply crafted and bland of ornamentation, wrapped in soft pig leather cloths. "My first sword. It could be useful as a form of protection. Teclis eyed it dubiously, so Belannaer added, "It is more powerful than it looks. There are runes of piercing, and also of lightning, engraved upon the blade." "And the final item," Belannaer said as he hefted the still heavy bag, "took forever to allow the High Loremaster to allow to lend to me. If he found out that I gave it to you, who knows what could happen to me! But a little foretelling prompted me to do this as the wisest path, so I doubt I shall face any repercussions. And you will find it of immense use." With that he emptied the bag out over Teclis' bed. Something large and heavy fell out, and the astounded Teclis gaped at the War Crown of Saphery. The War Crown was one of Ulthuan's greatest artifacts. It enhanced the power of any magic user wearing it, greatly. A master of sorcery such as Belannaer - or Teclis himself, for that matter, for all that his powers were still untried - would be an unstoppable force while the War Crown was seated on their head. "These. they are princely gifts, Master," croaked Teclis hoarsely. "You can call me Belannaer, now, Teclis," said his mentor. "And before you say it, there is no way you can repay me, and no need to, anyway. Repayment is for lesser people. Just prove yourself worthy of them." Belannaer piled the items back into the bag, and handed it to Teclis. "Good hunting." "Fare well," Teclis replied. Then he turned and swept out of the door.