Here is the next chapter. In this one you'll find that characters from my first story make appearances, as per the request of one of my readers. I feel I should thank the four who have reviewed my story, whether through the sit, or by e-mail. Thank you, Arabwel, Aquila, crazefanficboi, and catspaw0913. If it weren't for your reviews, I probably would not have continued writing this dreary tale. The Dramatis Personae has been updated, due to new characters. Please note that I made a minor error in chapter 9, regarding the name of one of Keledrial's students. Doren Hawklight is, in actuality Jaelen Hawklight. The chapter has been reloaded for the purpose of that change. I know that an Elaith appearance has been asked for, and I promise, he will appear at least once more by the end of this, but not yet. For now, I hope you enjoy Keledrial's latest entries of his mishaps, woes, and idiocies. Azurielle
I honestly cannot reason why it is that I ever thought that this whole scheme of the Queen's would be a good idea. I do not know what horrible demon possessed me, convincing me to believe that I would be able to do this…any of this! I am not cut out to be a teacher, I vow it! I do not have the patience to deal with children…I barely have enough to deal with Sera, and there are days when it is only my love for her that keeps me from giving up entirely.
They expect me to know everything, to be able to answer every question they have! They want to know how and when and why and wherefore!
I cannot explain why it is that some metals melt at certain heats, while others take for more…I just know that they do! Why does it matter how it works? I never asked questions like that of my father! Brander would have only replied that I had too much time on my hands if my mind was asking such foolishness, and given me more to do.
And the little barbarian brats are hopeless! How anyone expects Bran and I to turn them into civilized, intelligently thinking people is beyond me! They are so bloody stubborn, and set in their ways. "Why should we learn to read? It's not like words will slay our enemies?" they say. I simply cannot find the words to explain to them that if they read, and learn, and study, that they will be able to be smarter than their enemies, thus giving them an edge in battle…or that there are more things to life that fighting and war. Damned, bloody followers of Tempus. I've not yet met a single one that understood the concept of "no battles."
As for my history class, that would almost be enjoyable…almost. Most of my students are willing, nay eager to learn. They listen to the stories and histories as though I were the finest bard…and truth to tell, I can't imagine that anyone would be able to find entertainment in my storytelling abilities. They ask questions…logical, reasonable questions…but then there is my thorn, my pebble, my voice of dissent…Zelairwyn.
The boy is the most uncooperative, bad-tempered, annoying brat that I have had occasion to meet, and that is saying something.
In class, he only speaks up to point out a part of a history I might have missed, to ask a question that he thinks I cannot answer…and some times can't…to find any way he can to stir up trouble. And outside of class, it is almost worse. I can't think how I am supposed to my job to protect him, as he is quite clever at sneaking off. He spends most of his time in the house, moping, and on the few occasions I have tried to speak with him, to try to become friends with my charge, he merely snarls that he is not a child, and he does not need a guard.
How dreadful it is that my own past should come back to bite me, that I should now be forced into a situation where I must deal with an elf who reminds me nothing so much as myself!
It has only been two ten-days, and already I despair of being able to keep my word to the Queen on any level. The few other teachers with whom will still speak with me, have assured me that the first few weeks of school are always rough, and that it takes time for things, and students to settle down. I begin to wonder if that is the truth, however.
To make matters worse…as if matters could get much worse, it seems that everyone, from the teachers to the students know of my attempt to kill Kalanas Dakarios…and not a one of them agrees that I was in the right to attack him. Even the elven children attending my class have come up with ways to point out that the dark elves and the light elves have not always been enemies, usually dredging up some historical reference in a tome to prove the point to me.
To top everything off, I hardly see Sera, except at breakfast, and dinner, and usually by dinner she is so tired from the day, that she falls right to sleep. She loves every minute of the school and her classes and new friends…and I am not nearly as interesting to spend time with, I suppose.
Sanhandrian has all but abandoned me as well, having shacked up with a lady squirrel who dwells in the tree near my bedroom window. He is in "love," or whatever squirrels feel that passes for the same emotion.
It would be fair to say that things are not going well…not like they ever do, mind you. But even worse, this time I am bound not only by duty to my family, and my queen, but by my own oath as well. And I thought that change would be a good thing? At least on Evermeet, trapped as I was, there taverns to drink at, and wenches to couple with…here I must be on my best behavior…a model for the students…hence no drinking. And the only elven women about are wither taken, students, or Shelinda…who is so old that she could be my great, great, grandmother. Ah, Corellon help me, and grant me the ability to withstand the mess I have gotten myself into!
All right, so I admit, perhaps I was being a bit overdramatic a few months ago…but I confess that it did seem as though I had, once again, made another terrible mistake in coming here. The fact of the matter is, that I am not the greatest teacher there is…but I think that as I am getting more used to the routine of it all, and as the students are becoming more used to me and learning to respect me, that things are getting better.
It helps that most of the children do not watch me with expressions of expectation, waiting for me to prove to them that I know something I can teach them, or hoping to see me fail.
In my smithing class, the students are just getting into working steel into objects. We finished with iron, gold and silver, which are all easier metals to work with. Most of them are putting all their effort into their schooling I notice…actually, it's something I've noticed with the majority of the students at the school: they are all serious about being here to learn. Oh, don't get me wrong, there are exceptions to the rule, those who are here more because someone else, usually their parents, wanted them to be...those who cause trouble and the like.
My Sy'Tel quessir student, Talath, for instance, has a very short attention span. Odd for an elf, but not unheard of. He, unlike the others has a hard time with my class, as smithing requires one's full and undivided attention. Talath is often far more inclined to let his mind wander, and day dream, and so has managed to injure himself on at least three separate occasions.
Bran and I have made considerable headway with the barbarian students, but Bran assured me that he fully expected we would, despite my despair over ever doing so. I think that, in working with them, trying to get them to let go of their stubbornness, I have caught a glimpse of my own self. The truth of the matter is that I now find I feel a degree of pity for those people who have had to deal with me all of these years, trying their very best to show me that sometimes my way of thinking is more than a little bit…off. It must have been like trying to push a boulder up a mountain, and I find that as I pity them, I also respect them for their effort…certainly trying to change my opinion on anything I make my mind up to can be a chore...as changing the students mind on the merits of learning has been for Bran and I. However, just because I recognize that I have been a thorn in the sides of the people in my life does not mean they are right about what they think, either.
My history class reminds me greatly of my youth, studying books and tomes. Most of the children in my class are very nearly as enthusiastic about history as I was, and I have had trouble coming up with lessons fast enough, for they retain everything I tell them, and then ask questions that even I do not know the answers to. It is challenging, for it tests the limits of my knowledge, forcing me to research more to satisfy their curiosity.
I have still made little progress with Zelairwyn, however, although , to his credit, he knows his history and gets top marks in my class, even as he does his level best to cause trouble and trip me up in any way he can. At this point, Zelairwyn is a problem that I have no remedy for. However, since he has been behaving of late, according to his mother, there has been no need for me to worry that he is putting himself in danger.
I have suitably managed to avoid the drow, thus keeping temptation out of my way, and so all in all, I must say that things are going better than I had hoped, now that I am settling in. I keep hoping that I will receive word from the elves of Kelerandri tower, to whom I am to report for service if they need my aid against the drow, but it seems that either the drow of the forest have been quiet of late, of I am not needed. Either way I feel I am not quite accomplishing what I was sent here to do, and yet with all my responsibilities here, at the school, and with so many different fighter-types with which to spar with, I do not feel restless or bored. That is a rare occurrence, in and of itself.
The fall harvest begins in a week or so, and the school is officially on break, as most of the local children are returning home to help with it. Naturally, a great many of the students live too far away to easily return. Those that cannot go home are staying here, given free time to study and relax as they wish, with no formal classes. A fair portion of the teachers have also departed, taking breaks, visiting friends and family and the like.
I have not been here long enough to feel the need to visit any of my family…and seeing as they are so far away, such a trip would be difficult and impractical. I am thinking that during the break will just relax a bit, and spend more time with my daughter…that is if she can tear herself away from all of her new friends and interests long enough…although I think I shall have to assert some parental authority and require that she do so…although, I wonder about the wisdom of doing such a thing. She does have a tendency to be stubborn when it comes to orders.
It is frightening to see how many changes the little time we have spent at this school have wrought in my daughter. Finally having children her won age to play with, aside from my younger brother, with whom she never quite got along with for some reason, seems to have done her a world of good. And yet, she seems to have grown so much from the little girl she was, and will probably always be to me. She has begun acting older, her speech no longer childish, as it was up until recently. And she has grown more and more insistent, as of late, about dropping little "hints" to me…mostly that her friends all of mothers and that she does not. I have managed to act the part of the fool, however, deliberately misinterpreting her suggestions, as I have no intentions of taking a wife…ever. If it means that I must stay away from Evermeet until my betrothed gives up on me and weds another, than that is what I must do.
I am beginning to like the way my life is going, and I have no intentions of willingly shackling myself to woman. Let Sylthas sire the heirs that house Nightstar will need. Certainly my cousin is adept enough with women to accomplish the deed. And if not Sylthas, then Kedriel or the twins can do so. I have no desire for it. I have come to the conclusion that I will never marry for any reason short of love…and since I find that such a notion as romantic love can only be a thing made up by bards, and the cult of Hanali, I do not think I have anything to worry about.
My hopes for a quiet break did not quite go as well as I had planned. Indeed, they died a swift death only two days after the local students returned home.
The problem was that my charge, whose life I am honor-bound to protect, has decided that he, too, wished to have a vacation…and departed in the night against his mother's wishes.
My reverie was rudely broken by a pounding on my door. Summoned to my cousin's office, I arrived to see that she was pacing about, alternately worried, and angry, clutching a scrap of parchment.
"My son," she told me without preamble, "Has decided to take a trip...without my permission, or any protection," she tossed the parchment on the desk before me. Assuming she meant for me to read it, I picked up the letter. It was simple in composition. Zelairwyn wrote that he wished to take a bit of a break from schooling, and that he would be back in a month, when school resumed. There was no indication of where he intended to go.
My cousin, meanwhile, was ranting under her breath in a tone that I have come to believe only mother's are capable of learning.
"When he gets back here…oh, he's in so much trouble! How dare he do this again?!" He's going to get himself killed…"
"Liralyn," I interrupted.
"I want you to go after him," she turned on me, silver eyes blazing. "The Queen sent you here to protect him, so that is what I want you to do."
"Very well," I replied, with a sigh. As I said, so much for my vacation.
I departed the school within the hour, after gathering my gear, and wrestling a bridle onto Lashrael 2.
The beastly animal was being more ornery than usual, seeing as he'd begun to grow fat and lazy during the past few months. I don't ride with a saddle, seeing as I never had been able to train the damnable animal to accept one, but it was just as well, for trying to get another piece of gear of Lashrael 2 would have taken another hour longer and a second battle of wills.
Mallorn led me out of the forest, unknowing that, by that time, I had managed to work out how to navigate it in my spare time. Believe me, such a task was no easy thing, for the illusions and realities and intricacies of the two intertwined were quite complicated. I doubt I would have managed it, but for my ability to be able to sense magic's presence.
My half-elven cousin left me at the road near Hap.
"May Tymora's favor be with you," he told me, his customary half-smile gracing his face. "Knowing Zelairwyn, you'll need it."
"Why is she sending me on this mission?" I asked him, as I had wanted to ask Liralyn. "I was under the impression that Liralyn neither trusts me, nor likes me very much." Mallorn shrugged.
" Can't say, really. I certainly don't know my sister's mind that well. But if I were to wager a guess, I would guess that she's giving you a chance to prove yourself…oh, and all of our friends from the Myth Knights are off visiting. She can't go herself and leave the school unprotected, so, seeing as it is what you were sent here to do, you might as well do it."
"I was sent here to protect him, not be his nursemaid," I grumbled. Mallorn laughed softly, almost eerily. Now, I don't really mind the man, but there is something about Mallorn's preternatural stillness that disturbs me. Something about his eyes makes him seem old…like he sees far too much. And I have to wonder about the mind of a person who could come up with, and implement, the types of protections that exist around Everall.
"With my nephew sometimes it seems that one jobs entails the other. Best hurry now, before the trail grows too cold," he added, and with a snap of his fingers, he was gone. Damned bardic penchant for dramatic exits.
In Hap, a few sharp-eyed villagers mentioned that they'd seen Zelairwyn headed down the western road, riding a horse from the school. Hoping that the fool wouldn't stray too far from the road, I rode out of town in that direction.
As soon as we were away from Hap, I let Lashrael 2 have his lead. With a toss of his black head, Lashrael broke into a gallop, glorying in the speed and freedom, reminding me so very much of his sire.
I caught up with the little brat almost a ten-day later, near the outskirts of Ashabenford. A few farmers I'd passed on the road were happy enough to tell me, for a few coins, that they'd seen a cloaked youth leading a horse that matched the description of the one taken from the school, only about an hour ahead of me. A glance at the tracks on the road, and a little bit of recollection of the bit of tracking skills I'd picked up from Hank, told me that the horse had somehow become lame, and that meant Zelairwyn was not riding it.
As I got close and closer to him, I had a sudden idea. Zelairwyn seems to be of the belief that he can do as he wills, without regard for anyone else. And, like most youths of his age…although not me…he seemed to think that he is invincible. It occurred to me that perhaps if I gave him a taste of what fear is like…if I showed him that he could easily be harmed while off on a "jaunt," then perhaps, just perhaps he would be less likely to continue on with such behavior.
So, pausing in the road, I made use of two of the many spells in my repertoire. One of the spells, often referred to as an "alter self" spell, I used on myself. The magic of the spell changed my appearance, hiding the most distinctive of my features. My hair colored changed from pale silver-blue to wheat gold. My ears grew shorter, more like a Cha-Tel quessir's than a full blood elf. My green eyes turned a muted hazel hue. My skin darkened as it never would in without magic. The overall effect had me looking less elven, and more half-elven. It was a perfect disguise. After all, who would think that I would disguise myself as a Cha-Tel quessir?
Then I turned my magic on Sanhandrian. Using a simple illusion, I changed the color of his coat from sinful black, to a more common, non-descript dun shade, adding a white blaze on his head for effect.
I made certain I had a plain knife at hand, and continued onwards. An hour later, I caught sight of my quarry, sitting just of the side of the road. His horse was grazing, and Zelairwyn sat on a large stone, one hand holding the beast's reins. I steeled myself for what I intended to do.
He glanced up as I approached, his hood covered most of his face, but I caught sight of his silver eyes and knew it was he.
I slowed as I neared him.
"What's the problem?" I called out to him, altering the tone of my voice so that it sounded gruffer.
"No need to trouble yourself, sir," Zelairwyn replied. "My horse has just slipped a shoe, and having a bit of arrest. I'll get it fixed in Ashabenford."
"Ashabenford?" I asked as I slipped down from Lashrael's back. "That's a few more miles from here, isn't it? I work as a farrier," I lied. "Let me take a look and seen if I can't give you a hand." Zelairwyn stood, and flashed an appreciative smile.
"I would be most grateful," he stated, politely. I walked closer, and once within a foot or so of him, I attacked.
I grabbed Zelairwyn, and hurled him against a tree, not so hard as too truly hurt him, just knock the wind out of him. He gasped, and made to run, but I am far faster than a boy. I grabbed him by the back of the shirt and dragged him just off the road, then slammed him up against a tree. I yanked his hood off, and held the sharp edge of my knife to his throat. I saw fear in his silver eyes, yet at the same time, he did not cower or plead as I fully expected him to.
"My money is in my saddle bags," he stated, only a hint of a quiver to his voice. "Take it, if that is what you want." I pressed a little harder against his neck, drawing a tiny drop of blood.
"And if I don't care about your money?" I asked, menacingly. "Maybe it's your blood that I'd rather see."
"Then kill me and be done with it," Zelairwyn said, his chin rising fractionally, determined. I was mildly impressed, for he despite his fear, he was being brave. Deciding to see what he would do, I lowered the blade, just a little. Zelairwyn took full advantage of that gesture, and kicked me with all his might. I stumbled back, just enough that he could try to run. Before he could get more than a few steps, however, I grabbed his arm, jerking him to a halt so forcefully that I am certain he will be left with bruises. The knife went back to his throat, and there was a look of resignation in his eyes.
"Are you scared?" I asked. He did not reply. "I could kill you now, and there's not a damned thing you could do about it," I remarked.
"So just do it, already!" he cried.
Annoyed, I dropped my charade, and my spell, shoving him to the ground.
"I'm not going to kill you, Zelairwyn Sunstar," I growled, tucking the dagger back into its sheath.
"But you'd better understand that I damned well could've…and so could any two-copper bandit or goblin that's likely to be roaming the area. Or are you so foolish that you think you are equipped enough to fend off your attacker…as you managed to do so admirably with me?" I sneered. I saw the fear fade, saw a flicker of rage glitter in his eyes the moment before he launched himself at my knees, knocking me momentarily off balance. He was on his feet in an instant, pummeling me with all his might, and screaming,
"I hate you! I hate you!" I let him rage at me for a while, even through his fists were causing a bit of damage, for he was not exactly weak. I could, to a degree, understand what motivated his escapes…or at least I thought I could.
His rage lasted only a short while, then, quite to my horror, he sank back down to the ground and began to cry. Somehow, the sight bothered me even more than Sera's tears. Sera, after all, is a little girl and certainly prone to fits of hysteria. Zelairwyn is not a young child anymore. From what little I have learned of him over the past few months, I know that he is stubborn, angry, and thinks he is all but grown. He would never cry in front of someone like me, an adversary, unless there was something more going on than I had thought.
"I hate you…" he sobbed, glaring up at me, still angry, despite the tears. "I hate all of you…especially you! And I hate my mother, too! She lies to me! She just wants to keep me here. She never wants me to grow up! I just want to go back to Evereska…they didn't treat me like a…a baby there…and I don't need…a…a protector! If I had a father, you wouldn't be here…but she lies to me…she won't even tell me his name!" He tugged angrily at an amulet around his neck, almost as though he were trying to rip it off, but the chain held firm.
Finally, unable to meet my eyes any longer, Zelairwyn hid his face in his knees, and continued to cry.
Feeling somewhat bad now, over what I had done… especially when I could understand where he was coming from, I spoke haltingly.
"Look, Zelairwyn. Certainly nothing can be as bad as all this," I told him, using words that had once been used on me.
"You don't know anything," he mumbled, not looking up.
"I know that until you can protect yourself you, you need someone to make certain that nothing happens to you. And I know that your mother loves you, and that is why she sent me to come get you," I said, trying to be comforting…although that is something that I am certainly not very good at. Zelairwyn looked up again, his tears slowing, as he snapped angrily,
"She doesn't love me! If you love someone, you don't lie to them! You don't hide things from them!"
"What do you think she's hiding from you?" I asked, more to placate him than out of any curiosity.
"Everything! She told me my father was from Evermeet; that he was a noble, and that he died. But if he was just a noble, then why do I need a bodyguard? Why would the Queen send a bodyguard for me? Why not guards for my brothers and sisters? You're a noble and you don't have a guard," he added. I wanted to point out that I did not need a guard, but decided it would be more prudently to let him speak, uninterrupted, that he might talk out his anger.
"And she won't let me go back to Evereska. I had friends there! I was going to be accepted into the blade-singers guild to train! I just want to go and see if my friends are all right…to help rebuild Evereska. She thinks I'm a baby and I couldn't possibly do anything to help, though. And she won't tell me what this stupid amulet is," he yanked hard on the object once more, leaving a red mark on his neck, as he did so. "She won't tell me what it is, or why I can't take it off…only that it's for my own good! She never tells me anything, except to behave!" He all but shouted.
"And then you show up, and you think just because the Queen sent you that I should be grateful, but I'm not! I hate it! I want to know why you're here. Why me? What's so damned important about me?!" He demanded, sounded frustrated.
I was stunned. It never occurred to me that Zelairwyn didn't know who his father was, for one thing. And I had to agree with him that the amulet was rather curious. Further, I can still recall how angry I was when the attack on Evereska had occurred, and that I hadn't been able to do anything to help…and that was considering there wasn't anyone I knew who lived in Evereska. So, I could certainly sympathize with Zelairwyn, however, I did not know what to say to him. If Liralyn hadn't told him his father's name or rank, it was certainly not my place to do so…although I think that keeping the truth from the boy was not the best form. Fortunately, I did not have to say anything...at least not right away.
"Oh gods," he swore, angrily rubbing the dampness from his face and eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. "You don't understand anything!"
"I understand more than you might think," I replied, truthfully.
"I know you're angry, and I know how it feels to be constrained by ones parents. I know that it is a terrible thing to have your life disrupted, but that sometimes it can't be helped. I know that I am not your enemy, no matter how much you think I am. And while I know that the Queen sent me here to protect you, she never said that I couldn't help you." He gave me a skeptical look.
"You? How can you help me? Do you know who my father is? Can you get this stupid amulet off me?"
"Yes, I know who your father is," I began.
"So tell me," he interrupted.
"I can't…it's not my place. But I will tell you that his identity is, indeed, the reason why I was sent to keep you out of harm's way."
"What good are you if you won't tell me?' He wanted to know. I shrugged.
"That remains to be seen, doesn't it?" I replied.
"All right, then, the amulet," he held it out at the length of the chain. "You're a wizard. Tell me what it does. Tell me why I can't take it off." Obligingly, I examined the amulet. I felt the tingle of strong magic in it. The piece was simple in design, a circle of silver with a moonstone in the center. Looking closer, I saw that the edge was carved with tiny runes. I muttered a cantrip to detect magic. The amulet glowed brightly, and from the pale color of the glow, I knew that the main function of the amulet had to do with illusions. As to why he couldn't take it off, I could only assume that some form of geas was responsible. As for protection, there was no sign of that sort of enchantment on the amulet. However, despite my vast hoard of magical knowledge, I could not identify the actual purpose of the medallion, for I'd not seen anything quite like it before. All the same, I told him what little I'd managed to discern.
"Illusions?" he asked. "Why would I need to wear something with an illusion in it? She said it was for protection." I shrugged. It would require a degree more study on my part, as well as a spell that I was not yet skilled enough with the weaving of magic to cast.
The attempt, however, seemed to calm Zelairwyn…prove to him that I was willing to help him.
"All right," he began. "You won't tell me my father's name, and you don't exactly know what the amulet is. So if you want to help me, then let me go to Evereska. Tell her you couldn't find me. I'm just going to Cormyr to get someone to teleport me to Evereska. I won't be gone long, I just want to know what happened to my friends." I shook my head.
"For one thing, you know I can't let you go, and you know that. And for another, I suppose I should tell you that it is impossible to teleport into Evereska. If you want to know what happened to your friends there, give me their names. I can ask some people to find out what befell them."
"I just want to do something! I want to be away from the school, and my house! Why is that so wrong?" He sounded frustrated.
"When you can protect yourself, then maybe I'll think about "not finding" you. Until then, you are stuck with me, at the Everall school," I stated. In some things, I have to be a grown up…it's probably the parent in me.
"Then teach me how to protect myself!" He cried. "I know you can. You're a teacher…and a warrior. If you're good enough to be my guardian, then you're good enough to teach me."
"Now wait a minute…"I began to protest. The last thing I needed to be doing was teaching a royal elven youth how to fight like a human warrior.
"No! I know all about you. I know that you're a fighter and a wizard. I know that you caused as much trouble on Evermeet as I do here, more even, and that's why you got stuck with me. I know that when you were my age you were shipwrecked, and that you trained with humans. And I know that the Queen chose you…which means you can't be that bad. Besides, you said you would help me, and since you can't help any other way, I want you teach me. That way when I prove I'm just a good as you, maybe the Queen and my mother will let me do things on my own." I sighed. I knew this would not be an easy task, but I had hoped that I might be proven wrong in a way that is beneficial to me, just for once.
"All right, Zelairwyn. Let's make a deal then. I train you, and you stop running off like a damned fool, until I say that you're ready."
"Agreed."
"Don't be so fast, "I held up a hand to stop him. "If you mean to train with me, be aware of this: it won't be easy, and if you whine or protest, I'll only push you harder. Training to be a warrior is no simple task…it takes a great deal of determination…and if you agree, I'll hold you to your word."
"I agree. I'm not afraid."
"I was," I told him. "But you've agreed, and so I'm holding you to it. No more running off."
"Just so long as you teach me to fight," he replied evenly.
"Right. Now, since we're halfway there, we might as well go to Ashabenford for the night. I intend to spend as little of my vacation sleeping on the road as possible," I gave him a pointed look, as though to say it was his fault that I was not relaxing back at Everall, as I should have been. He only shrugged, not having the good graces to even seem a little bit guilty. Damned kid. Well, at least he won't be running off any more. And all I have to do is teach him to be like me. Joy. I'm certain by the time I'm done the Queen will ban from Evermeet forever for turning her grandson into a little barbarian. What a great vacation this is turning out to be!
We walked into Ashabenford about an hour or so later…I can't really be that certain, as I have never been very good at exacting time by the sun's movement. The White Hart Inn was open, and I ordered two rooms, and some food. However, before the food even arrived, a young human boy wearing stable-type clothing came rushing into the taproom of the inn, and up to a table wear 2 humans, a man and a woman were seated.
"Hurry," I heard him tell them, urgently. "Word's come down from Banshee keep. Drow attack in two days. Riders've got to get into positions!" The two rose swiftly tossing a few coins down."
"Two days? That doesn't give us a whole lot of time…especially with so many of the riders dealing with the trouble further south, by Peldan's Helm," the man commented.
"Worse than that," the woman shook her head. "About half the dwarves of Glen are gone, found some old mine they'd been looking for, but they wouldn't tell anyone where it is. If there's not time to find them, and get them back and ready for the fight, the border forces are going to be seriously short-handed." The man grimaced and nodded.
"Well, at least Kelerandri and Steelguard towers are at full capacity." They headed for the door, when the impact of their words finally hit me. Drow attack…and Kelerandri tower. This something I was here to help with, whether or not the forces of Kelerandri tower had ever intended to send for my aid.
But then I looked over at Zelairwyn, who'd been listening on with interest, as well. What would I do with him? His gaze turned to mine, as though he knew my thoughts had turned to him.
"Are you going to go help?" he asked.
"I might," I replied. "But I have a problem…you."
"Not a problem. I'll just go with you and help," he stated confidently.
"I think not. I am not about to let you anywhere near a battle involving the drow."
"Why not?" He wanted to know, as though the reason were not clear enough. I sighed.
"Zelairwyn, think about the conversation we had not three hours ago. You can't defend yourself in any definition of the word "defend." At best you'd be killed outright, at worst you'd get caught by them, become a slave and suffer for the rest of your short life. And seeing as we have decided that I am charged with your protection until I deem that you can protect yourself, I say absolutely not." He looked frustrated for a moment, then the gleam of light in his eyes appeared.
"Look, you might be a great warrior and all, but I know a lot more about the dalelands than you do. Banshee keep is the safest place I could be. It was built twenty years ago by these adventurers…I think they called them the Crimson Flame or something. Well, the leader of the group was Rain the Banshee. She and her friends have been fighting drow on the borders since the first year the keep was built! There hasn't been a major drow attack that got past their defenses in all that time. And more and more keeps and forts have been built along the borders because of her. The people there know what they're doing! If I'm safe there, I won't be safe here, since it means the drow'll have broken past the border guards," he explained.
"Yes? Well, if you'd be safe at this "Banshee keep," you'll be safer still back at Everall," I snapped.
"But if you take me back now, there won't be time to return for the battle," he reasoned.
" And if these people have never lost a battle in twenty years, what makes you think they'll need me?" I challenged.
"Didn't you hear the riders? They're short handed. If it's to be a major fight, and the dwarves and the riders aren't there to help, the drow might finally get past, and the attacks will start on Ashabenford again! Do you want to be responsible for that? After all, you know what they say, "For want of one fighter, the battle was lost."" I heard those words, and they echoed back at me, as I remembered having said them myself, thought them myself over and over, thinking that if only I'd been there to help in Evermeet and Evereska. If I returned Zelairwyn to Everall, the battle would be over before we even got back. If the border forces fell…I would never be able to forgive myself for not being there to help.
But on the other hand, if something happened to the Queen's grandson…if the drow killed Zelairwyn, I will have failed in my vow to the Queen. I do not think I could bear to do such a thing…knowing that I would disgrace myself even more than I already have.
A terrible dilemma, I wasn't certain which path to take. Help and risk Zelairwyn, or leave, and chance that the drow will reach Ashabenford. It didn't help that Zelairwyn was watching me with the expectant gaze of youth: that I would follow the more "logical" course that he'd set forth for me. And, damn it all, I wanted to go fight. I wanted to use all my new skills, my training, and test out the Fury of Battle. I was tired of mock combat, and sparring. I wanted to feel the rush of battle once more. Yet, at the same time, I knew my duty. I knew that I had no business risking Zelairwyn's life…and yet, when it came down to it, the brat risked his own life. And certainly I had been little better. Once I'd learned the ways of the Ruathym, I'd adhered to them as best I could. I had been as eager for a true battle as had any normal Ruathen boy.
In the end, the decision was no so hard as I had thought it might be. After all, the Queen knew me…I'd never hidden anything from her if she asked it of me. She knew my nature is to fight, no matter what odds are arrayed against me.
We rode out, following the path of the Riders of Mistledale, north towards a place Zelairwyn said was once the home of a bandit named Galath. Now it was the home of a thief called the Banshee.
It took almost the whole of the day for us to reach our destination, riding fairly hard, without rest. Lashrael 2 did not seem to mind much, relishing in being able to run as he wished.
Though night had fallen, I saw the keep rise up suddenly just up ahead on a small rise. In the distance, just visible in the light of the moon, were the tops of two towers, one black and glittering: Steelguard tower, or so Zelairwyn informed me. The other tower was a pure white, reflecting the light of the sky's adornments: Kelerandri tower.
The keep sat situated between the keep, each one a few miles away. In the lea of the keep was a small village. The village sat on the edge of miles of farmed land, most of the fields half harvested. The road we were traveling along ran along side one of the fields, and a small copse of tress. There were lights in the cottages, smoke coming from the chimneys. They certainly didn't look as though they were preparing for a battle.
Deciding to go first to where at least my name might be known, provided the captain of the tower had received the Queen's message, I continued on, and further to the west, past the keep, to Kelerandri Tower.
I was stopped by guards about 100 yards from the tower. A company of moon and gold elves stepped out of the trees and asked my business. I explained that I was there to see the captain of the tower and that I was sent by the queen…which, of course was all truth.
They had Zelairwyn and I get down, and they led us and Lashrael 2 towards the tower.
Inside, the place reminded me much of many towers to be found on Evermeet. The walls were painted with great murals of the forest. The floor with a geometric mosaic design. A fountain bubbled in the center of the first floor, and yet, for all that it was pretty, it was also quite functional, and had been built for defense…for a siege.
Strangely, I also saw hints of dwarven work about some of the doorways, and the way that the steps had been rigged to collapse at the front. It was not something I would have noticed before working at Everall, but then I am a bit of a racist.
The captain was quickly summoned, and arrived from an upper portion of the tower within minutes. He was moon elven, unsurprisingly, on the tall side, his height stopping at an inch or two under six feet. He wore his dark blue hair very long, in a braid down to his waist. Matching blue eyes took my measure as he strode up to me. His name, as I recall, is Ilyriian Kelerandri.
"So you're the Nightstar heir?" He asked. I nodded, although I still have doubts as to whether or not I will be able to fulfill that position.
"And this is?" he gestured towards Zelairwyn, who was doing his best to look casual.
"My apprentice, Zelairwyn," I replied smoothly. It wasn't quite true, not yet anyhow, but it was close enough.
The captain nodded, thoughtfully.
"Well, you certainly do look like your mother, I must say," the captain stated. "Aside from the height and coloring, that is." Should I have been insulted? After all, looking like my mother means looking like a girl…yet, I figured it for a compliment, as I know I don't look like a girl.
"You know her?" I asked, politely. He puffed up slightly.
"I had the good fortune to be serving in her unit for most of my training. If it weren't for her quick thinking and leadership during the battle of Evermeet, I wouldn't be here now. Damned shame about her leg, but if I know Lady Saelihn, its hardly slowed her down."
"No," I informed him, a faint smile coming to my face, as I thought about my mother's dogged determination to be rid of her handicap and get back to service. "It hasn't slowed her down much."
"Although I'd wager your reappearance threw her for a while, 'ey? Wasn't a one of us who believed that you were alive, not being sickly like you were. I guess you grew out of it."
"I guess I did," I replied, a bit uncomfortable at the turn in conversation.
"So, why is it you've come. I thought you were teaching over at the school."
"I am," I confessed. "However, its harvest break, and my…apprentice wanted to visit in Ashabenford. We overheard some Riders talking about an attack about to happen here, and you being short handed. So I decided to volunteer my sword, if you wish it." Captain Kelerandri nodded.
"Well, I'll tell you the truth Lord Nightstar. The letters I received from the Queen and your family stated that you were told that you'd been sent here to aid in the battles. But what they didn't tell you was that they informed me never to summon for you, unless circumstances were dire."
"What?" I demanded, my temper flaring instantly. Captain Kelerandri shrugged.
"I gather that they want you kept from harm's way, which is not that unusual, considering that you are the house heir and all."
"Why are you telling me this? "I all but growled, furious at my parents, and the Queen's duplicity. Zelairwyn thought I didn't understand how he felt? I was stuck in the same damned boat he was…only I am not a bloody child!
" I felt that you should know why I didn't send for you. But, seeing as you're here, and seeing as we are, indeed, short-handed, I think that I'll accept the volunteer of your skills…if you're still willing that is." Oh, I was more than willing. I was eager. After all that I have lived through, and done, my parents still didn't trust me! And after all that I'd just spouted at Zelairwyn, he gets to hear that his "protector" was treated little better than he was.
I agreed, of course.
"Well, now that that is settled, I'll just need to make certain that Lady Rain is informed of your presence."
"Lady Rain?" I couldn't quite contain my incredulity.
"Aye, Lady Rain…my cousin. The one who gave me captainship of this tower," Ilyriian Kelerandri gave me a dirty look.
"We've already met," I informed him, inwardly amazed that a common pick-pocket was considered a "Lady" in these parts…and yet, I thought of the Amahquessir family on Evermeet, recalling that the entire family consisted of rogues, and concluded that it was not so strange after all.
"You have, 'ey? Well, then you will not mind meeting her again to see if she approves of your presence among us."
"You look to a Cha-Tel' Quessir for approval?" I asked incredulously, foolishly speaking my mind before I could better consider my words. Ilyriian Kelerandri's eyes narrowed.
"Because your mother is Saelihn Nightstar, I'll forgive the insult. For your information, Nightstar Rain has done more for the elven people in this area than anyone I can think of. We respect her opinion as an elf-friend, and I am proud to share blood with her."
"I am sorry," I quickly apologized. "Truly, I had not meant to be insulting. I am still trying to unlearn certain of my less savory behaviors," I stated. Ilyriian sighed.
"That's all right. I'm quick with my defenses, but when it comes down to it, I once thought as your did…until I met and battled with my cousin."
"You fought her?" I asked curiously. He nodded.
"Aye, and she defeated me…she with her common street-style of blade fighting defeated me with all my decades of training as a soldier of Evermeet. It was a humbling experience." I thought of the red-haired woman I'd met a few months ago…and back to the skinny brat who'd picked my pocket so long ago. I found it hard to believe that she could be so skilled…although I don't know why. After all, if she was anything like Lita she could probably defeat anyone.
The captain told his men to stand down and return to their patrols. He led Zelairwyn and I down a level, to the basement floor of the tower, where we were both blindfolded, and led into a tunnel of sorts. I tried to listen closely, to see if I could discern where we were going, and how we were getting there, but the good Captain kept talking, no doubt to distract me, as I heard the sounds of moving stone, and sensed flickering torch lights.
"You've a half-elf cousin too, don't you?" he asked.
"Yes," I admitted. "Mallorn Nightstar."
"Uncle Mallorn is your cousin?" I heard Zelairwyn ask.
"Yes," I replied. "We both share the same name, don't we?"
"I thought it was just a coincidence," Zelairwyn confessed.
"I've heard of Mallorn Nightstar. The enchanted forest he designed is becoming quite famous in the dales," Ilyriian stated.
"He designed the forest?" I asked.
"Mostly, from what I've heard. Quite a bit of work there. Good defense, too. Here we use plain old soldierly, a bit of magic, and a few gnomish contraptions that usually work to great effect."
"Usually?" I asked.
"Ah, well, sometimes Jeblek's traps don't quite work the way he intends…but he's only set one building on fire in twenty years, so I'd say that's not too bad a ratio." I heard Zelairwyn stifling a chuckle, and elbowed the brat to hush him up.
"Why is it that your cousin is called "the Banshee"?" Zelairwyn asked suddenly, even as I felt a draft come from another opening passageway, and heard a faint buzzing sound coming from the wall to my right…as though there were a hive of bees behind it.
"She is called so because of her voice," Ilyriian stated. "Like her mother, my aunt, Rain can raise the pitch of her voice so high that she can shatter glass with it…or men's ears for that matter. When she was a younger, a head would made her scream uncontrollably, and the villagers near where she lived though the screams were that of a Banshee's. A friend of hers heard the tale, and gave her the name," Ilyriian concluded.
By that time we'd been walked for about twenty minutes...maybe more. Just then, there was the sound of another's voice, although for the life of me, I didn't hear anyone approach.
"Who goes there?" a male's voice demanded in a slightly older form of elven.
"I do, Lyklor, with guests, I might add," Ilyriian stated.
"Bad time for visitors, descendant," the voice replied, sounding rather…odd.
"They're here to help. You can tell Lady Rain we're coming up if you like." There was no reply, and I sensed that the other, Lyklor, was gone, although once more, I hadn't heard him leave.
We climbed up a series of stairs, and finally, I felt the night air cool upon my skin, and Ilyriian informed us to remove our blindfolds.
I looked about blinking my eyes. Somehow, we'd gotten from the tower into the keep. Tunnels, and passageways, I gathered…not unsurprising for the home of a former thief, though.
The front gate was to my left, and was opened. Directly ahead was a barracks, and a great hall, both lit with torchlight. To my right was a stable, judging by the faint noises of horses coming from within. Up, on the walls there were the shadows of men patrolling. All was quiet and peaceful…it certainly did not seem as though there was a battle coming.
"Come on then, they'll all be in the Great Hall," the captain stated, striding off in that direction.
A set of double doors nearly twice my height were the only obvious entrance to the Great Hall. Still, for all their height, Ilyriian didn't seem to have much difficulty pulling one open.
He strode in, gesturing for us to follow.
The great hall looked like it could be a cheery place under the right circumstances. There were dozens of smaller tables up against the walls, under large, bright tapestries. A massive fireplace was found directly to the right, and judging by the smells and sounds, there was a kitchen in the back.
At the moment, however, the place looked more like a war room. All of the smaller tables had obviously been pushed aside, to make room for the people in there. A large table was the focus of attention, with several maps spread out on it. Around the table were the oddest array of people I've had occasion to come across, short of my former party that is.
Rain the Banshee was obviously their leader. No longer the tattered street rat, or even the slightly tired mother, this woman was a warrior, with a longsword on one hip and a cutlass on the other. She seemed to be planning some sort of strategy, laying out what was to be done on the maps before her. Those watching seemed to be following her words as though long used to following the woman's commands.
For the others, there was the aging half-orc I'd seen with her in the tavern, some months ago, as well as the farmer-priest, whose arms were crossed, as he watched from just behind Rain.
There were three dwarves, two males who looked fairly similar to me, and…wonder of wonders, a female dwarf, with tight red braids, and no beard. How bizarre…I'd always read that dwarven women looked just like men, beards and all, but this one, who was distinctly female, had no beard. Her stubby little hands rested on a hammer that she held in front of her like a walking stick, with the heavy end down. That hammer…well, there is only one word I can use to truly describe it: obscene. It looked like it should have been wielded by a giant, not a dwarf girl. Hells, I doubt if even I could have lifted it. How she thought to be able to wield it appropriately was beyond me.
There was scrawny looking moon elf wearing leather armor, his hair drawn back in the untidiest braid I've ever seen. The two riders of Mistledale were there, as well two other human males. One looked to be fairly young, and aside from the slightest hint of a point to his ears, and a tilt to his eyes, looked to be the very image of the farmer-priest. The other was old, seated in a chair, with hair that was more brown than white, and a nose that would have been more in place on a gnome's face than a human's.
Beside the Banshee was a translucent elven knight, complete with full plate armor…a ghost.
Just when I thought things couldn't get any odder, I noticed that the "dog" lounging near the corner raised its head…and that it was not a dog, but the largest weasel I've ever seen in my entire life.
Completing my sweep of the room, I caught sight of one other being, seated just away from the table, in a shadowy corner. I heard his voice before I could pierce the shadows with my eyes.
"Visitors, ghost? At a time like this? You're jesting! Even that stick of an elf, Ilyriian wouldn't bring visitors here, now," the voice was biting, sarcastic, and mildly annoyed sounding.
It took me a moment or two to realize that the skin of the speaker did not hold the light, rather seemed to absorb it. My vision adjusting, and I saw clearly: another, miserable dark elf.
I almost laughed, in my incredulousness. I know, it seems like I should have attacked, but I am beginning to learn that when people get their minds set on a dark elf being good, there's no convincing them otherwise. So I held my ground, all the while wondering what sort of silver tongues the drow had to trick so many good people into falling for their lies.
"Damned plague of drow about, aren't there?" I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else. Naturally, they heard me, all turning to regard me, even as Ilyriian announced our presence.
"Well, well, the teacher," the Banshee commented.
"Yes, and the pickpocket, turned border lord…or lady, as the case is. Haven't we covered this territory already?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. I figured that that way, there would be less of a chance that I would give in to any sudden homicidal urges.
"Well, teacher. What are you doing so far from school? This isn't the best time for conference about Jaelen's behavior, I might add," she replied.
"Rain," Ilyriian interrupted. "This is Lord Nighstar…you remember the one the Queen sent me a letter about. He's come to aid in the battle."
"Lord Nightstar, ey?" The woman chuckled. I admit it did sound pompous, but it is my title.
"Is there a problem with that, Lady Rain?" I asked, emphasizing her given title. It got the effect I wanted, as she scowled momentarily.
"Well, you've got great timing, Nightstar. But the real question here is, what good is a metal smith against the drow?"
"Hey!" the dwarf girl exclaimed. "I'll be taking exception to that remark!" It figured. She certainly looked the type, especially with that hammer.
"I was trained as a warrior, first and foremost, Lady. But as you are from the Moonshaes, you would probably remember just as well as I the skills of a Ruathym warrior." Her expression cooled a bit.
"Aye. A bunch of marauding thieves and murders."
"Ah, but we were nothing if not efficient," I replied easily, while at the same time cursing at myself for taunting her. Why in the name of all the Seldarine couldn't I ever learn to think before I speak?!
"True," she nodded. "But against the drow? You'll need better than that."
"I am better than that."
"Are we done posturing, now? Can we get back to business, so that I can go home and at least be harassed by the woman I married, instead?" the dark elf's voice was scathing as it cut through the conversation. My temper rose a notch, but I contained it, even as I noted most of the people about the table sighing, or slapping the hands over their eyes and shaking their heads, as though long used to this sort of thing.
"No one asked for your input, drow," I muttered.
"Yes, well, I given it anyhow, haven't I, gray?" The insult had the three other elves in the room shooting the dark elf foul looks, but I only laughed, my temper firmly leashed.
"It's only an insult if one of the People speaks it. The drow hardly qualify as elves," I needled smoothly.
"All right, now, that's enough," the Banshee held her hands up.
"Dazelin, knock it off. Not everyone is used to your particular brand of humor. And as for you, teacher, you're here to help, so stop attempting to piss off our wizard. He's relatively harmless, unless your back is turned, anyhow. Now, can we get back to planning? We don't have a whole lot of time, and frankly, and between this battle, and the triplets, I'm in no bloody mood for petty sniping between elven racists." It was ridiculous how quickly we all shut up…her scolding was that of a mother's. I wonder how it is that women can do that?
Finally she turned back to me, after shooting glares around the table.
"All right, teacher. We've established you're a fighter, but what style? Where's you're weapon for that matter?" I snapped my fingers and my glove released the Fury of Battle into my hands. I moved to rest the blade of it on my shoulder, when suddenly the half-orc's hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. Though he was the only one in the room near my height or breadth I did not feel too challenged by him. After all, he was quite old; wrinkled face, graying skin and hair…but in his grip was strength that his outer appearance belied.
"Where did you get this sword?" He asked, his voice, like Harl's far more coherent that I would've expected from someone with orc blood.
"Why?" I asked, allowing him to examine the blade once he'd released my wrist. His eyes held a far away look as he responded.
"In my youth, I was a priest of Tempus…before I was shown the light of the Morninglord." The Morninglord, I knew, was another name for Lathlander, the human god of dawn and rebirth, and the like. There are those who liken him to my lord, Corellon, but I personally do not see any similarities.
"I remember hearing of a weapon such as this. A great sword with a gem of blood red in the pommel, the symbol of Tempus on the crossguard…it was called the…"
"Fury of Battle," I interrupted. "This is that blade."
"But how do you, an elf, come to hold a holy weapon of Tempus?" The half-orc seemed confused.
" By the will of Tempus, I should think," I replied, truthfully.
"It was said to have been shattered…this does not look so. Are you certain it is the Fury of Battle?" At that point, the dwarf girl hopped up on a chair, and grabbed my wrist, yanking the sword in her direction. Like the half-orc, her strength was far greater than I would've assumed given her slight appearance.
"But it has been broken, Guar," she told the half-orc. She twisted my wrist painfully, forcing me to angle the sword towards the light, at a horizontal level.
"See here, the hint of a repair, hardly more than a line. And here…" She looked up at me.
" Fine work, teacher. Did you fix it?" I jerked my wrist back, only slightly annoyed.
"I did. Both blade and power have been restored," I stated, a bit proudly. Then, ignoring the two, I looked back to the Banshee, to answer her questions.
" I fight with the great sword, and for my style, I am a berserker trained in the ways of a Ruathym warrior, although I also have received training with the soldiers of Evermeet, and thus can fight without the rage as well. I am also skilled in wizardry, particularly spells of the evocation variety."
"So "death" is your middle name, ey?" she asked. I believe she was attempted to jest.
" I have no middle name…but if I did, it would not be that," I replied with a frown. The Banshee merely shook her head.
"All right. Normally I'd test your skills by making you prove them, but I've no time now. If you wish to help, I won't refuse." She then proceeded to quickly introduce those about the table, before explaining the situation.
The farmer-priest was her husband, Andar. The boy, her eldest son, with the ridiculous name of "Gully." The hook-nosed old human was Alaric the Gull, and spoke with a voice that could make celestials weep, it was so awful. The female dwarf was Kedra, and the two males were Takklin, the captain of the keep and Steelguard tower, and Boron, the night captain. The half-orc, as I'd already heard was Guar. The elven ghost was Lyklor. The moon elf with the braid was Inialos, a ranger of the forest. The two riders were Darach and Shella. The drow was Dazelin. And finally, the giant weasel was the keep's "guard dog," bearing the moniker of "Mr. Chitters." Although, considering the noise it made when it heard its name, a bizarre chittering sound, I realized that it was somewhat appropriate.
Then she went on to explain what was happening. Apparently, Rain had a spy among the dark elves who'd been supplying the border forces with information on the drow movements for twenty years. To date, the spy had never given them wrong information, so there was no doubt that the drow would be attacking the following night.
Apparently, the drow of forest had gotten wind of the reduced defenses of the village of Glen, and meant to attack the dwarves while they were at their weakest. The spy, a woman named Gwenect, had informed rain that the attack would come just before dawn, as they hoped to catch the dwarves asleep. The spy was not certain on the numbers, but thought it would be around two or three score involved in the attack.
The plan that they meant to use was one they'd apparently used before. Those who be aiding in the battle would slowly move into position tomorrow, in small groups, around the and in the village. There would be no massive troop movements, in case the drow had scouts…which they most certainly did. Once in place, the drow would be allowed to make the first move, so that once they entered Glen, they would be surrounded. The attack would commence, and the drow would fall. The people in the room all seemed certain that the attack would work, as it always had, and being that I have no experience in such matter I had to believe it would, as well. The only real worry was that with the defenders' reduced numbers, that there might be more casualties than usual.
The rest of the time was spent looking over a map of Glen, and deciding where certain groups would be positioned, various plans of attack, who would be going, and who would be left behind to guard the towers and the keep.
Over the last topic, there was a bit of debate. The dwarf captain, Takklin, who'd apparently grown up in Glen wanted more people going to the battle, but Rain refused saying that at least a quarter of the ready forces had to be left behind to protect the keep. Since she was the leader of the group, and Takklin's employer to boot, guess who won the argument?
A second argument broke out when the boy, Gully, asked to go with us to Glen. His mother flatly refused.
"Absolutely not," she told him. In typical youthful fashion, he quickly grew angry.
"Why not? I know how to fight! You trained me!"
"Fight, yes," his mother agreed. "Experience? No. Any drow warrior would cut you to ribbons before you could blink, Gully."
"How can I become experienced if you won't let me near a real fight?" he asked, sounding frustrated. The conversation had me feeling a sense of déjà vu…sounding very like the talk I'd had with Zelairwyn…sounding much like things my parents had once said to me, not so very long ago. But I have to say, that I agreed with the Banshee. Just looking at the boy, I knew that he was nowhere near ready to take on something as skilled as a dark elf.
" Look, Gully. I know you're restless. But if you want to adventure, find yourself a group of like-minded people, and go take on a nice band of kobolds or goblins first. You won't last long if you go charging off to battle creatures above your skills. And until you leave this keep, I am still in charge, and as such you are staying behind." The boy looked as though he wanted to argue, but I gather he realized, with the finality of her tone, that it would be fruitless. He merely sighed loudly, fists clenched. He looked back, at his father for a moment, but the human man only shook his head slightly, taking his wife's side.
Finally, the meeting in the great hall was adjourned, with Rain adding that we should all rest as much as we could before dawn, as it would mostly likely prove to be a long day tomorrow.
Zelairwyn and I were taken to guest rooms on the second floor of the great hall. Before dropping into reverie, I warned Zelairwyn that he would be staying here on the morrow, and that nonsense, such as the type the boy, Gully, had displayed below would not be tolerated.
I rode out in the morning, in the company of captain Ilyriian and ten other elves. We were to ride wide, around Glen, then circle back, and take up position, just outside of the village, on the western edge of Glen. Once night fell, we were to move in closer and wait for a signal. Once given, we would ride in, and attack the attackers.
At least that was what was supposed to happen.
But with all things in my life, the plan and subsequent attack did not quite goes as planned.