Section Five: The Last Road
The lanterns Cobra had move the group took them to the edges of their limits, and the group went from being in the center of a desert to standing at the edge of a grassy, rocky highlands area. They quickly figured out they were only a week out from Morningstar now, and that the road would be weaving farther into the highlands as they went. Capes were taken back out, and the group settled into their normal formation, travel progressing as was fairly normal for the majority of that day.
It was late afternoon when Peppy suddenly pulled his horse to a halt, staring off at the mountain range in the distance, twisting the reins around his hands to he point it was painful. Memories shook him, and he dropped his head, shoulders shaking. Betrayal. Dishonor. Anger, so much anger. He leaned forward, trying to shake the images.
The group continued for a few moments, then one by one stopped, turning their horses or twisting in saddles to look at him, watching as he swung from the saddle and stared off at the mountains, eyes distant, then finally gave and crumbled to his knees, bowing his head and shakily rubbing his eyes. "God. Of all places to return to…"
Fox dismounted and strode over. "Peppy, are you all right?"
"No. I thought that this path we are taking looked familiar, but I just realized…" He took a deep breath and let it out. "This is the path that your father, Pigma, and I were taking on the return from the quests." He lifted his eyes to meet Fox's. "Except when we got this far, we had already lost Pigma and your father from our numbers."
Fox looked over his shoulder at the path ahead of them, understanding what Peppy was telling him. "So you're saying that sooner or later, we're going to come upon the spot where the betrayal happened."
"Yes." Peppy moaned, shoulder sagging. "Heironeous help me…"
Fox pulled Peppy to his feet gently. "There isn't an alternate path, but we'll take one as soon as we're able, all right?"
"No, we shouldn't risk adding more time to our travels, it's just that… it seems a cruel irony, to end up back on this road." Peppy said finally, leaning into the saddle of his horse for a moment, then slowly mounting back up, head still bowed.
It was several minutes before the party started moving again.
Several hours later, night started falling on the highlands road, and Peppy started a low chain of prayer, his low murmurs the first noises he had made since his near-breakdown. Eventually the group came across a large, clear spot the size of a decent clearing. The fire pit was well marked, this spot was apparently often used to camp.
"This is it, isn't it?" Fox finally asked, looking at the clearing.
"Yes. I think it is." Peppy replied, voice distant. "No, I know it is." He looked to the north, looking at the two mountain peaks that still loomed in the distance.
"We're not going to make anything better by nightfall, Fox." Julian remarked in an uneasy voice, looking at a map. "The next town is still a half-day's ride."
There was a long moment of silence, then Fox slowly nodded. "Then we'll camp here, but we move out first thing in the morning." He looked at Peppy, who only wearily shook his head, not protesting.
The group left the road and dismounted, going through the process of setting up camp. Rita paced the area absently, preparing one of the basic protection spells for the campsite, then frowned, crouching and setting a hand on the ground. "Fox?"
"Yes? Is something wrong?"
"Yes, and no." She sat back on her heels. "The ground is warm, but it's not exactly like the sun warmed it. It's more like a presence." She looked up at him. "This camp site is well warded, Fox. Something has been protecting it. Something of great good."
He crouched beside her, pressing a hand to the thin grass and dirt. She was right, the ground was oddly warm, but it wasn't strange so much as comforting. "You're right. Spell residue from an earlier party?"
She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. This is something else."
Fox wove Peppy over and explained, but he only shook his head. "I'll admit it's strange, but I can't offer an explanation. I'm not going to protest, though. If something has reason to protect this place, let it, I say."
Rita and Fox could only agree.
Fara had started a fire, and Alan started playing absently, a cheerful song. Even though the party was uneasy, they slowly started to settle down as the scent of good stew filled the campsite, and the aura that wrapped the campsite started to affect them. They were safe here, so they could relax.
The party was just finishing their meal and Alan had started playing again when a strange voice reached them, scratchy and low, but with no malice in it.
"Good bard, do you know a song by the name of Casting Stars?"
The entire party jumped, looking around. Their steeds were calm, none of the minor spells they had cast had alerted them, but another figure had joined them, just outside the circle of light cast by the fire. The figure was male, but that was all they could tell because he was deeply cloaked, arms folded under the cloak, watching from a distance.
"Casting Stars?" Alan asked, scratching his head. "Well, that's a request I don't hear often! Been two decades or more since that was popular. I'll gladly play it though, why don't you join us friend?"
The figure laughed, though it almost seemed like a cough. "No. I don't want to step into the light, and I don't think you would want me to. I merely heard your violin, and I have not heard that song in quite some time." The cloak shifted, the group got the idea the figure was rubbing his chin. "The cost of living alone, I suppose, is living without music." Another coughing laugh.
"All right." Alan stood and stepped closer to the figure, not so close as to be a threat, and started to play. The violin lent itself to the song somehow, a beautiful, lilting song. The cloak shifted again, and the group got the odd idea the figure had his head back in ecstasy, even swaying a bit in time.
When the song ended, the figure nodded once. "I thank you, friend bard…" He trailed off, sweeping his gaze across the group. Fox felt eyes bore into him, but it wasn't unfriendly, it was… familiar somehow. He stood slowly, looking at the figure. "I should leave you now. I do not make good company."
"Oh, let us be the judge of that kind sir." Said Alan amiably. "Please, join us."
The figure took a step back. "Next to fire is no place for me, good bard."
"Why is that?"
"You do not wish to know."
Fox slowly stepped over, staring at the figure, pain suddenly aching in his chest as a strange suspicion started to grow in him. "No, I agree with my friend. Join us. We'll be glad for the company, I wager."
There was a long silence, and the strange laugh echoed from the figure again. "Turned in the old armor, eh, young man?"
Peppy gasped, deep in his chest, standing. Fox held up a hand, looking at the figure. "I had no choice. A rather nasty encounter with a green dragon ruined the back plate and damaged the rest beyond repair."
Another strange laugh. "A green dragon? You fight dragons now? Why am I not surprised?" He turned to leave. "I to have heard the legends. Strange, they used to be about me. Go well."
"No." Fox blurted. "Father."
Shock rippled over the group as the figure paused, seeming to look over his shoulder. "Why did you just call me that?"
"Because, I…" Fox choked on sorrow. "I… you can't be anyone else."
There was a long silence, and a strange, sad keen came from the figure. "You were always too damn perceptive for your own good, son." He turned back, looking at the party.
"James? How?" Peppy asked weakly, joining Fox. "I saw you… saw you…"
"Don't speak of it." Was the sharp reply. "Lest I choke on rage and sadness." When Peppy nodded, the figure looked back to Fox. "I should leave."
"Don't. Please." Fox pleaded, suddenly feeling very, very young and helpless.
The figure sagged, then nodded. "All right. But I cannot go with you. You will not see me after tonight. Do you understand?" When Fox nodded, only then did the figure walk forward toward the fire, paced by Fox, Peppy, and Alan, slowly taking a seat and not removing the cloak.
"You're James McCloud?" Falco very faintly asked.
"Yes. Or what's left of him." James laughed, but it held a very bitter edge.
"You're the one protecting this place, aren't you?" Rita asked.
"Yes, priestess, I am. I have nowhere else to go, and so many camp here that I thought it prudent to stay and assist in my small way." He shook his head.
"Why do you say you have nowhere else to go?" Fox wanted to know.
"I can't go home, Fox." Was the flat reply. "I never can." He looked at his son, looking at the pendant, and let out a small, choked sob. "You of all people should know one, simple fact of what we are. Halloweds do not die easy, and when they do, they often don't even leave the earth then." He stared at the fire. "Being touched by a god is not so much a goodness of heart as an emptiness of soul and is as much curse as blessing."
There was a long silence.
"What has happened to you?" Fox finally whispered. "I was told what happened, how can you still be…?"
"I'm dead, son." Was the flat reply. "The blade of one of my friends went straight through the back of my neck and came out of my throat. I'm dead, but I am cursed to walk this world."
"Zombie?" Rita rasped.
"No. Close though. I'm a liche." The bitter laugh came from the cape again. "Which is merely a zombie who has retained his mind and to some degree his soul." The figure leaned over, elbows on his knees, shoulders shaking and head down. "God even now… rage… sadness and rage…" He shook his head.
Fox stared at this form that was his father, and felt enraged. How could something like this happen to his father, of all people?
"Don't bother, son." James looked at him. "Don't bother being angry. Heironeous knows I am, but I don't think that even he can help me. I seem to be outside the reach of the gods." He looked at everyone, then slowly sighed, lifting gloved hands to the clasp on his cloak. "I know what you all are wondering, and I may as well, but you may all regret it." And with that, he undid the clasp, slowly shrugging out of the cloak.
The passage of time had had no effect on James McCloud. The mark of the death blow was still there, a break in the white fur of his throat and across the back of his neck. The clothes he wore were simple, a tied tunic, boots, and loose pants. Gloves covered his hands, and at first glance, he seemed healthy. Then you looked closer, and saw that there was no life in evidence, that his eyes were dull and clouded, that he wasn't even breathing. He looked at them, then slowly removed one of his gloves and held up the hand beneath, closing his eyes.
The covered hand was almost skeletal, in fact showing bone and muscle. An impact wound most likely, sharp stone perhaps, rending away the flesh of his palm to expose what was beneath. But no blood flowed. Torn flesh and muscle hung limp, what was intact flexing in full view when he moved his fingers.
"Oh, Heironeous." Fox said, grief choking his voice.
"This was my own stupid fault, really." He looked at his damaged hand. "Happened not long after my body was abandoned to rot. It was then I found out exactly what my fate was. I can't heal." He pulled on the glove slowly, shoulders shaking.
"Why would fate do this to you?" Peppy whispered. "You never did anything to anger the gods, James. Hell, you should have been praised as a warrior saint."
James threw back his head and laughed, and it was full of bitterness. "Fate is cruel, Peppy. Don't argue because I know that. Why trap me on this world when I have no reason to continue on?" He spread his hands. "As nice it is to see my son again." He looked at the younger figure, and a rueful smile spread over his lips. "God, you look so much like your mother…" He trailed off, eyes flicking down to the gold band on one of Fox's hands, then flicking over to Fara. "Indeed. Congratulations."
Fara had the sudden urge to blush.
"That is a story I wouldn't mind hearing. You're princess Phoenix, aren't you?" He tilted his head to one side.
"Yes, yes I am."
"Uh-huh." He looked at his son, who smiled guiltily. "I shall refrain from any embarrassing comments, though that would practically be my duty as a parent."
"Don't tell me you've resisted the grave purely to poke fun at me." Fox said with some indignantly.
"Heh. I don't think even fate would be that cruel." He shook his head. "Well, as long as I'm here, what brings you here? What has been happening since, well…" He made a gesture at his throat, then cast a look at Elgar. "And stop looking at me as if I am going to jump up and drink your blood."
Elgar jumped, much to the laughter of his apprentices.
"What has been happening, well… that's a number of tales." Fox admitted.
"Aye, this would not be the first quest your son has lead." Alan said with a grin. "Rather his third."
"Third? Someone has been busy, but then, I have heard the legends." He grinned at his son, flicking his gaze back to Fara. "Maybe I shouldn't blame you. Well, start at wherever it began, by all means."
"I can't believe he's still here." Rita whispered. It was late, but everyone was still up. The tales had been spun, and now Fox and James had left the fire, mage lights trailing after them, apparently talking as they walked. "What god could be so cruel?"
"Hextor, for one." Said Bill in a voice marked by sadness. "I never got to meet him, before he left for the quests. I always wanted to." He stared off after the father-son pair. "But now… I mean, Kord help us, he's undead!"
"Which doesn't immediately sign him off to evil." Slippy pointed out. "There are good liches, and they are almost always very powerful."
"Even in death I can't see James McCloud being anything but powerful." Said Peppy in a voice marked by sorrow. "I watched him die. To think we left him, we just left him, and…" He trailed off, a sob strangling his voice. Fara pulled him down to sit next to the fire, trying to soothe him. "God. How long has he been out here, alone? Did he ever leave?" He shook his head, shaking with pent up emotion.
"Is there any way we could help him?" Fara asked, looking around at everyone.
"How do you help someone who is dead?" Falco spread his hands. "We can't offer him food or drink, or heal him, or even offer him a fire to sleep next to."
"I think what she means is can we somehow lift the curse on him." Said Rita. "And I don't know. He says he's beyond the gods, which means that it's somehow his will alone binding him to the earth."
"He wouldn't willingly turn to this state, Rita." Peppy protested.
"He didn't. Perhaps he just had unfinished business, who's to know?" She held up her hands helplessly.
Peppy stared off at the figures. "God. I don't want to leave him here alone again…"
The camp fell silent in agreement.
"I wasn't surprised, you know."
Fox glanced at his father. "About what?"
"When I first started hearing the ballads about you." James gave him a strange, warped smile. "I could tell some of it was lost in translation, as what I listened to was in the local language and had probably already been rotated through a few other dialects… But I could still tell the truth of the words." He paused, looking over his shoulder at the campfire, then back to his son. "I'm proud, son."
Even though the ache in his chest was still there, those words spread warmth through Fox, and he felt himself smile. "It means a lot to me that you are."
"I know."
There was a long moment of silence, then he sighed. "I have to ask, and I know I shouldn't."
"I know what you're going to ask. Go ahead. I'm surprised your friends didn't."
"What's it like to die?"
"You've come close a few times, why ask me? For that matter, why not ask your wife?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Slightly different situation, I suppose. Besides, I really do not want to think about her dying."
James sighed and stared off into space. "I don't think I can tell you, to be honest. The entire time during the interrogation, I was… I was angry. My commander dies, and one of my supposed best friends is the first to say it was me. By the time it was over, I had already resigned myself to my fate. Last things I remember saying was asking Peppy to check in on you, and requesting an actual soldier's death, a clean death. I don't remember the blade." He reached up, rubbing his throat. "I don't quite remember waking up either."
"I'm sorry I asked."
"I was expecting you to." Was the gentle reply.
There was another silence.
"Do you mind if I take a look at the katana?"
Fox immediately took the scabbard off his belt and held it out wordlessly. "It's your sword, not mine."
James slowly pulled the glove off his good hand and reached out, then wrapped his hand around the hilt. Fox gaped as the sharp sound of the sword's defensive magic cut the air, and James released the hilt, looking at his hand. The fur of his palm was seared, and the look on his face pained.
He slowly lifted his eyes to Fox's as he dropped his arm. "Not anymore."
Fox stirred and lifted his head wearily. It had been the wee hours of the morning when his father had forced him to retire, and somehow he had been glad to do so, crawling into his tent and pulling Fara close, trying to pretend his sire wasn't still out there, watching over the campsite with dead, intelligent eyes.
It was still before dawn. He slowly crawled out of his tent and looked around, yawning. Something had woken him up, and he saw what.
James was sat next to the fire, having stoked the fire back up, but he wasn't the only one in attendance. What seemed like dozens of wispy forms flitted around the fire, seeming to glance at Fox then glide farther away from him. "Go back to bed son." James ordered, not even looking up, staring into the fire. Watching his son's face, he smiled wearily. "Ah. You see them too, don't you?" He looked around. "I'm haunted, every night I'm haunted. Never the ghost I want to see though."
Fox pulled himself up, muscles heavy and weary, sitting next to his father. "You mean mother don't you?"
There was a silence, then James stabbed the fire with almost too much force. "Fate is cruel." He spat. "I still do not understand why she was taken from me."
"I do not understand why both of you were taken from me." Fox replied. "But who are we to argue it?"
James laughed very softly. "Indeed. You've talked to Heironeous, haven't you?" He shot his son a side glance.
"I can say I've had that honor."
"Strange isn't it, his halls." He shook his head. "That's where I should be now. He's even told me that, but… I'm out of his reach." His shoulders sagged a bit, then swapped subjects. "Any chance I could look at that pendant?"
Fox took it off and handed it to him. James traced its shape absently, feeling the weight.
"It glows in the presence of evil, doesn't it?"
"Yes, like a star."
James clasped the pendant between his gloved hands absently, silent for a moment.
"Rita thinks that you're here of your own volition." Fox remarked.
"Mm. Fara told you what was being discussed, eh?" He shook his head. "I really don't know, son. I do not know why I am here."
"Well, you're obviously not at peace." Was the somewhat dry reply. "What bothers you so much you cannot rest, father?"
James sagged. "I left you son. I left you, alone, even if I did teach you all I could." He opened his hands, looking at the pendant. "I shouldn't have crusaded. Some father I am." He passed the pendant back with a slightly shaking hand.
"You almost didn't have a choice but to go." Fox protested. "And I am none the worse for your travels."
"So you say, but I shouldn't have left you alone." He shook his head. "And then, on top of it, I failed you. I told you I was going to be back, hellfire, I promised." He looked away. "But I didn't come back."
"You didn't have much a choice there either." Fox said, shaken by how much self hate and sorrow was in his father's voice. "Do you really loathe yourself so much for that one fact? Is that what ties you here, your hatred of yourself?"
"I don't know, son." Was the weary, weary reply. "I really do not know." He made himself look back. "Go back to bed. Don't trouble yourself over me."
Fox stood, recognizing the 'you-had-better' tone in his father's voice, then dropped the pendant back into his father's hands wordlessly. He brushed by the ghosts, which giggled at him faintly, darting around him, but paused before he ducked back into his tent. "Hate yourself, say what you want, but I couldn't have had a better parent. I do love you, father. I still grieve. Even now." And what that, he ducked back into his tent, holding back what he knew would be practically unending tears.
"He's gone." Peppy shook his head. "He left us, sometime during the night."
"I wouldn't want to attempt a goodbye if I were him, either." Alan remarked.
Fox had been silent since he woke up, pacing around restlessly, and a short distance away from the camp a metallic sparkle caught his eye. Going to it, he found his pendant, on the ground, glowing in the sun.
He crouched slowly, picking up the pendant, which felt warm, living under his touch. Looking at the ground, he saw a short phrase written in the packed dust, flowing Elven words.
Do not mourn for me, for death is only the beginning. I love you, son.
Fara walked over to him, watching as he wiped a hand across the ground, growing alarmed when she saw that he was crying, very slowly. She knelt beside him, and he looked up at her, a strange smile crossing his face.
"He's gone." He turned his face up to the sky. "He's joined the halls."
"He's been released from the curse?" Fara blinked at him, standing as he did, watching him put the pendant back on.
Fox only smiled, wiped his eyes, and returned to the group.
"Well, folks, it would seem that we're back in raider country." Falco remarked, accepting a flask from Alan absently. "Or at least, that's what I gather from the insignias on the signposts. I mean, I'm not very good at reading English, let alone the kagi, but some things don't change no matter where we are."
Fox looked at Elgar, who nodded. "Highwaymen band together in small groups and cause some minor havoc on these roads in between cities. They usually only travel in groups of five or so, and even then, I think they would be smart enough to avoid this particular group."
"True, but we said something akin to that the last time we were in raider country." Fox huffed out a sigh, rubbing a temple. "We keep moving. Fara, keep an eye out for us, eh?"
She nodded, scratching her hippogriff under its chin absently. "We'll be going through a small pass soon, and if I were setting up an ambush…" She let that hang.
Falco snorted. "I more agree with Elgar. We've got so many people obviously armed in this party that it would be flat stupid to try anything."
"Are you claiming that everyone is smart?" Alan asked.
"Point for you."
The party moved on, and when they drew near to the pass, Fara landed and paced them from the ground, saying that she didn't have enough visibility from above. However, she had seen some signs of recent passage, a smaller party. Needless to say, they weren't very surprised when a pair of riders was waiting for them in the center of the pass.
"Well. You are quite the party." One of the riders remarked, eyeing them. Elgar sighed and translated.
"Depends on how you look at it I suppose. Would you be so kind as to step aside so we can pass?" Fox asked, already knowing the answer.
"No, I'm afraid we can't do that." Replied the other. "We've got arrows on you, friends. I suggest you part with your weapons."
He had just finished saying that when Falco, who had been shadowing the party on foot, dropped down behind both riders and cut the girth straps of the saddles. The horses reared in surprise, and as Falco swiftly knocked out both riders, a pair of archers came tumbling down the incline, hands already above their heads.
"Nice." Fox appraised.
Falco blinked, then slowly hooked a thumb at the archers. "I didn't do that bit."
There was a moment of silence, then another figure stood and easily walked down the path, holding up a hand in treaty. He was a red fox, of strong Elven descent. "I did, I'm afraid. I've been following this sorry group of thieves for some time now, and when I first saw your party I thought you were merely travelers. I took it upon myself to assist." He spoke easily in English, though his accent had the muddled sound of a constant traveler.
"The effort's appreciated." Fox replied, dismounting and holding out a hand. "And you are?"
"Call me Tempest." The newcomer shook hands easily, eyeing Fox. "You're a knight, and if not that, at least a soldier."
"Keen eyes." Peppy observed from where he sat nearby, still mounted.
"Practiced." Tempest replied factually.
"Well, then, no use in trying to play things down I suppose. I'm Sir Fox McCloud of the Phoenix Kingdom, and my friends and I are on the way to Morningstar." Fox nodded to the group.
"McCloud? An honor, I've heard of you as well as your father. And on your way to Morningstar? Would you be willing to say why?" Tempest tilted his head.
"There are some… difficulties there they think we'll be able to assist with."
"Well then. Would you mind horribly if I accompanied you? It would be a welcome break from chasing this sort." Tempest nudged one of the would-be raiders with his boot absently.
"I don't see why not." Fox glanced at Elgar. "Do you have a horse?"
As an answer, Tempest whistled piercingly, and a muscular stallion galloped up. When the group started moving again, the would-be raiders had been disarmed, and the group number had risen to fourteen.
"No ghosts protecting this site, eh? Bother." Alan remarked, watching as Rita stood and brushed herself off.
"I'd count it as a good thing, myself." She replied.
"I agree." Fox allowed a slightly sad smile, still feeling some amount of shock from the incidents from the night before.
"Whatever." Alan shrugged, knocking back some of the liquid in his flask and wandering over to where the fire was being built, offering to help with cooking dinner.
"Feel up to a duel, Falco?" Fox asked, twisting to pop his back. "I've been spending too much time on horseback."
"We all have been, and no way in hell if you're proposing a one-on-one."
Fox had to laugh at that. "Anyone else interested?"
In the end, Falco, Bill, Peppy, Fara, and Julian agreed, teaming up against Fox in a clear spot off to one side of the camp. Slippy agreed to be referee for the match, and was watching everyone prepare as Tempest strolled over, curious.
"Five on one. Isn't that a bit unfair?"
"Yes. For the five." Slippy replied with a half-smile. Fox was standing in the center of the clearing, sword still sheathed, and the others had spaced out around him, in various ready stances with their various styles of swords. Peppy had unearthed his bastard sword, Bill had a pair of short swords gladiator-style, and the others simply went along with their main weapons, in hopes that familiarity may carve them a few more moments of 'surviving.' "All right. Attack!"
All five charged at once, and Fox sidestepped, pulling his Katana and twisting, deflecting away Julian's Katana, then blocking Bill's swords one after the other. A drop and twist, and Bill hit the ground, still armed. Fara came at her husband from behind, and ended up swiftly disarmed. "Sorry love." Fox remarked, kissing her on the cheek in passing as he went into a snap kick, landing and flipping his wrist as he did another sweep, sending Falco to the ground, sword flying end over end and planting into the dirt. Even as Falco went down, Fox came back to a combat-ready stance and braced as he blocked Peppy's bastard sword, having to change combat styles as the pair fought for a moment, then Peppy submitted as Fox's blade slapped against the side of his neck. Not even stopping momentum, Fox turned and went into a flip, knocking Julian to the ground and tracing a line down his former apprentice's torso with the tip of his katana, and Julian laughed then held up his hands in surrender. Bill went down last, his short swords flying in opposite directions as he was thrown ten feet across the clearing.
"I hate you." Falco broke the silence, sitting up, laughing to himself.
Fox walked over and helped his friend up, grinning. "Don't quit your day job." He advised, moving on to Bill. "You've trained well. Too well. I'm not a gladiator, so don't try to fight like I am one. Peppy, nice, but I think that sword is too heavy for you."
"Brat."
Fara laughed. "Yeah, he is." She agreed, and stuck her tongue out at Fox.
"You wouldn't change me for the world. And Julian, just because you're not really serving as a guard anymore doesn't mean you can always practice alone."
"When did I ask for a lecture?" Julian wanted to know, rubbing what he figured was going to be a nice bruise in day or two.
"Bad habit." Fox replied with a grin.
"Not bad."
That earned Tempest a look from the others, but Fox only smiled a bit. "So glad you approve. Should I read a challenge into that?"
"Just so you know, fighting one-on-one with Fox is a good way to be sore the next day." Falco remarked to Tempest as he walked back to the campfire, nursing his wounded pride. The others also drifted in that direction, though they kept their ears open to the conversation.
"Small price." Tempest replied. "I'm rather hard-pressed of recent to find a decent sparring partner…" He walked to where he had left his pack and drew out a long, slender bundle, wrapped in cloth. He unwrapped it, and it revealed itself to be a katana, which he situated on his back as he walked back to where Fox still stood. "Especially one who fights in a similar style to what I was trained in. Bit unusual taste for a Knight, if you ask me."
"Our differences make us strong, and I never formally trained as a Knight, honestly. My father taught me almost all of what I know." He shrugged. "And what, pray tell, are you trained as?"
Tempest grinned. "A kensai."
Fox lifted both eyebrows. "I can see where you would have problems finding sparring partners, then. Well, I feel up to a challenge." With that, he bowed easily, which Tempest returned, and the pair simultaneously pulled weapons and began to circle.
"What, pray tell, is a kensai?" Falco wanted to know, looking around at everyone else around the fire, most of which had already started eating. Katt shoved Alan's horse back from the pot absently, so there would be some left for Fox and Tempest.
"Sword fighting expert." Bill licked gravy off of his nose absently. "They're more or less in a continual state of training. It's not all that common to find one, but then again, it's not like anyone in this group is common in the first place."
"You're not the only one who has concluded that." Elgar smiled over the goblet he was drinking from. "But I guess my friends and I only add to the diversity."
Tempest and Fox, meanwhile, had leapt into lightning-fast combat, swords drawing sparks in the waning light, leaving silver and blue blurs. They had learned a fairly similar style, which translated to long, involved combination attacks, all of which were blocked, returned, and blocked again. The fight was far from silent, also, as the pair constantly made remarks back and forth to each other, mostly compliments, though one or two jeers were thrown in.
In the end, it was almost sheer luck that Fox disarmed Tempest, and he was panting weakly through his grin as the pair clapped their hands together.
"You, my friend, learned from a true master."
"So did you." Tempest replied, and the pair joined the others after he retrieved his sword from where it stuck out of the dirt.
Travel progressed as normal after that as the path wound higher and higher into the peaks. Morningstar, according to Elgar, was built into a mountainside, both for isolation and protection. Falco remarked that it sounded much like a stronghold from their first journey, and those that had been there were more then inclined to agree.
The roads that they turned on to grew less traveled, and soon there wasn't even farms as there had been before. The only real signs of any civilization were occasional roadside shrines, and the road itself.
Two days out from Morningstar, the group ran across a completely desecrated roadside shrine to Pelor. It had been ripped apart by untrained hands, and burn marks surrounded the area for a good fifty feet, crossing the little-used road. The more normal horses of the group balked to enter the burned zone, and Fox's unicorn dropped the guise and led the way as if expecting attack.
Rita went to the shrine in concern, pressing a hand to one of the burned, broken stones, and jerked back with a shriek as if burned, shakily returning to the group. It was several minutes before she was able to reply, and even then, only said one sentence.
"Something is very, very wrong."
The group shared a look, and Fox held up a hand for a momentary quiet, then fell into prayer himself. Nothing. He opened his eyes and looked around at the others. Fara spread her hands helplessly, Rita looked away, and even Alan looked bewildered.
"Not to common that Olidammara doesn't feel talkative." Alan was the first to speak.
"None of our chosen deities do." Fox replied. "I agree with Rita. Something is very wrong indeed." He looked at Elgar. "Is there any sort of magic field around Morningstar that would extend this far?"
Elgar shook his head vigorously. "Not besides teleportation and communication routes, and those are only open at certain times. None of the ambient magic of Morningstar could interfere with a prayer, that would cripple us in more ways then I could possibly list in my lifetime."
Elijah nodded. "Religion and magic are pretty well connected at Morningstar. We've got a lot of Clerics, among other specialists, and the school as a whole would loose a good 80% of its strength if it was cut off from the gods."
"Then this is something else, though I have no doubt it's related." Fox looked up at the silent, empty blue sky, eyes half-closed. He was completely cut off. He was a disciple, a holy warrior of his god, and he was cut off. It was a strange feeling. "We keep moving. There's nothing else we can do. And if it IS related to what is happening at Morningstar, all the more reason to arrive there, and quickly."