"I . . . see," was all Lsanna could say after Te'Anara finished repeating
Azrael's story. One warrior who belonged to the few people still lingering
outside the inn had managed to forge a new set of banded mail for the
ranger to wear, for after Azrael had returned with her former equipment,
the armor proved too rusted to be worn. The Trueshot Bow was still in
excellent condition, despite having to have its bowstring replaced. And the
enchantment that had imbued her weapon with the ability to damage magical
creatures apparently also warded off rust.
Lsanna's eyes dropped to her lap as she mulled over what she had been told. As she thought, something came to her. "Do you know where my sister is? Has anyone been here asking for me?" she asked hurriedly, a distraught look on her face. Te'Anara smiled sadly, and replied, "Your . . . friends came looking for you not long after you disappeared, but . . . I have not seen any of them since they stopped coming a few weeks after you had not returned. I have no idea where they may be." Lsanna stared at her, unable to accept what she was hearing. "No . . . idea?" she choked, "I'm all alone? Where am I supposed to go after this? I can't search the whole planet by myself . . . " An idea came into Te'Anara's mind as she caught sight of Azrael edging towards the door. If she couldn't hold the man here by herself, she could make sure he stuck with the elf by sending her after him. She smiled and closed her eyes, telling the ranger, "You won't have to, for Azrael is going with you . . . Aren't you, paladin?"
Taken aback, Azrael stumbled over a chair and nearly fell. "What?" he demanded, irritated, but thankfully, apparently not angry, "I told you I was finished here! How much longer must I remain to do your errands?" Smirking at him, the druid narrowed her eyes and responded, "Oh, you won't be doing my errands anymore, you can wash your hands of me for all I care. But you owe something to the young woman whose life you saved. At the very least, get her started on places to look. Go to Qeynos, for starters. Despite the availability of teleportation now, people still come through the city, and the townsfolk there may still remember where her companions were headed. Two years wasn't that long ago." Lsanna's eyes lit up with hope, and she asked, as her eyes began to tear up, "Do you really think so?" The druidess nodded, but added, "But I think you ought to get dressed before heading out, don't you agree?" The ranger nodded, and wiped her eyes clean. She began to reach out for the banded armor lying on a stool near the bed when her hand stopped, and she turned her eyes to Azrael, who was still standing close by, glaring at the guild master. She coughed discreetly, drawing both his eyes towards her, and the druid to realize what she was after. "What?" he muttered, obviously not happy with how things were proceeding. "Some privacy is needed, I think, young man, march!" Te'Anara remarked, rolling her eyes, as she pushed him out the door so Lsanna could get dressed.
Grumbling, Azrael stood outside in the Qeynos hills, watching dark clouds roll in. Things had been going downhill ever since he had come back, and now, rather than being left alone, he had been tied to this woman, no, girl he had saved. He hadn't wanted to take on the druid's request from the start, yet something had compelled him to do so, and continued to keep him from leaving. Plus, he remembered with a grimace, he couldn't exactly run from a ranger, who could track him anywhere he went. Absently, his left hand traced random patterns over the hatch on his breastplate that hid the Amulet. This . . . power the dryad spoke of...what was he referring to? Could it be . . . No? Well . . . Maybe. I still haven't seen her fight yet, or really do anything either than sit up or talk. She might still be . . . he thought to himself, reflecting back to the odd statements the dryad had made. "Well? I'm ready," he heard someone say from behind, interrupting his train of thought.
Turning, he was amazed by the change in Lsanna's appearance. Her new armor gleamed in the remaining light not hidden by the clouds, and with her hair straightened, and her armor in her hands, she actually appeared back to her normal self as an adventurer. However, he noticed she didn't carry her swords upright, and as she moved to stand beside him, she still walked unsteadily. But her face was confident, and her eyes filled with hope and life. He smiled faintly at her earlier statement, and thought silently, Unable to search the world? I think she underestimated herself. Catching the smile on his lips, she gave him a smile of her own. His smile turned embarrassed, and he shook his head as he attempted to make his face serious again. "Up for a run to the city?" he asked, glancing towards what appeared to be rain approaching. "I'd rather walk," Lsanna replied, placing a hand on his elbow. As they walked down the rocky path towards the city, the sun gave a final burst of light before the clouds covered the sky, as if wishing them on their way.
"Lady, I don't recall ever seeing anyone like the people you described. I can't even remember what I had for dinner a week ago, and you expect me to remember some travelers who bought stuff from me two years ago, then left? Quit bothering me, I've got people here who actually want to buy some baked goods, if you don't mind," the baker complained as Lsanna sighed and stood back up straight from where she had been leaning on his counter. She allowed the queue that had been grumbling behind her to move in to buy items for their own dinners. She had been searching for three hours straight, and the afternoon had passed slowly away. It had been raining since almost before she and the paladin she knew only as Azrael had stepped within the Qeynos city limits, and they were both thoroughly drenched.
She raised the cloak Azrael gave her over her head as she stepped outside, but the time she had spent questioning the baking merchant hadn't given it much time to dry out, and it began to soak through again almost immediately, drops falling into her tangled hair. She found Azrael standing outside, leaning against the wall, and looking up into the darkening sky. He had given her his cloak, yet he had made no effort to find some other kind of cover for himself, as if he didn't even care that he was getting wet. When she had tried to ask him why he didn't purchase an oilskin from a tanner, he just muttered something about living in an area where it rained all the time for several years, and he was used to it. He greatly confused her at times, and yet she was slowly beginning to understand him.
She had met many people during what adventures she had before being ensnared into the dryad's clutches, including many human men. Yet she was traveling with a man she found unique out of any who she had previously met. He showed an education atypical of a warrior, and few priests that knowledgeable strayed far from their seminaries. She noticed that he seemed almost . . . tired of having to deal with people, yet despite his attempts to distance himself from the general public, he still seemed to hold compassion for them. On three occasions since they entered the city, he had helped people, even when he didn't have to. While all he seemed to want to do was find a room to lock himself into away from the crowds, he managed to find the spirit to rescue a little boy's dog from a ledge.
While paladins were almost expected to do these things, she was impressed by how he stuck to his principles despite the mental or emotional burden he was struggling with. The gratitude of those he had helped seemed to remind him of better times, for he actually smiled when they insisted upon thanking him. She had wondered if he was helping her because of this, but when she had asked, he had responded cryptically that, 'he had his reasons'. Yet instead of showing the reluctance that she had expected at first from his sullen attitude back at the Glade, he had become increasingly helpful, suggesting places she should look, people she should ask, and now and then, he answered some of her attempts to start a conversation. She hoped he was warming up to her, yet he still refused to tell her, or anyone else for that matter, much about himself. When she had stopped in Crow's Pub though, while Azrael stayed outside, she had asked about him, and was surprised by what she had heard.
He was actually well known, if only by reputation. Azrael the Three-Lives, or Azrael Heavenblade, as was his actual name. He had apparently earned his nickname by being a man reputedly impossible to kill, getting up at least three times slay the dragons he hunted in the icy wastes of Velious. She could understand the reputation paladins had of having two lives due to their Lay Hands skill, yet this 'third life' puzzled her. When she had asked about it, the man that had been talking to her knew little more than she did. He had heard about this from another as well, and all that he could say was that those who had witnessed Azrael fighting had seen him rise once more even when they thought he had been dead to attack a final time. Some say he rose up in a halo of light, others a cloud of darkness, more swore that he was surrounded by roaring flames. All attributed it to the gods' favor, yet none apparently could agree who was his benefactor. She dared not ask him herself.
It was growing late when Azrael suggested that she ask the bards at the Wind Spirit's Song. They too hadn't seen her friends, or her sister, Hillodania, in ages, yet they said that several bards were out on errands, and would be back at varying times, and that she should try again. Just as she was thanking the guild master for her help, Azrael stepped inside and said matter-of-factly, "We should get a room for the night, or week, however long this takes. Come to the Lion's Mane Inn after you're done here." He then walked back out into the shadowed streets and the rain as silently as he had come in. Lsanna sighed, and turned to apologize, but she was struck by the odd look upon one of the bards' face. "Who . . . was that?" he asked, as if he had seen a ghost instead of a man. Lsanna looked back in the direction Azrael had left and replied, "Him? That was Azrael Heavenblade. He's helping me around, why do you ask?" The half-elf seemed to grow even more disturbed, but he slowly resolved himself and shrugged, muttering, "No, it's impossible." Intrigued, Lsanna tapped his shoulder and prompted, "What's impossible?" The bard thought for a moment, then asked, "That was Azrael the Three-Lives, right, not Azrael Heavenblade of the Army of Light, correct?"
Frowning, the wood elven woman stepped back, confused now more than ever, tugging on a sodden lock of chestnut hair. "You mean they're different people?" This was the first she had heard of this 'Army of Light'. "They'd have to be . . . I mean, Azrael the Three-Lives has been killing dragons and wyrms in Velious for what, two years now? While I know the names are similar, it can happen, and besides, Azrael of the Army of Light died along with the rest of the guild three years ago. Unless he's a zombie, the Azrael I just saw must've chose his surname out of respect to the other," the bard told her, making nervous gestures and repeatedly massaging his neck, as if he was trying to convince himself rather than her. "Died?" the ranger demanded, a fluttering feeling in her stomach rising. "Yeah . . . don't know the whole story, but apparently they wiped out attempting to conquer Veeshan's Peak in Kunark, for people found a massive graveyard outside the peak with the names of almost every guild member on it. A few names were missing, but that can happen if not everyone's body is found. Nobody had the keys to get in but them, so they couldn't be rezzed. Now that I think about it, there wasn't anyone who owned up to building the graveyard in the first place . . . " the bard went on, then his face went white as he realized what he had just said. "I . . . I've got to go," he stammered, then half-ran out of the building.
Her long ears drooping, Lsanna just stood there, uncertain of what to think. While the bard's story checked out with several others she asked, nobody seemed to believe that this 'other' Azrael had survived, and that the one she was traveling with was a copy-cat. Still . . . nobody survived a wipeout that didn't gate or evacuate out of an area, something that would be impossible for a paladin, who would be on the front lines. And Veeshan's Peak she had heard from listening to idle talk had some kind of magical barrier around it preventing anyone from teleporting out of it. Nobody could have escaped. Yet who had buried the remains of the guild? The mysteries surrounding her companion kept growing, yet despite her doubt and slight panic, she felt like she didn't want to leave him. She knew asking him directly would not be prudent, at least not now, so she would just have to wait, and keep asking. Surely somebody knew the whole story.
Walking back through the dimly lit nighttime streets, she made her way to the inn and stepped inside. There was a buffet still mostly full of food in the commons which she helped herself to, yet there was no sign of Azrael. After her groaning stomach finally felt full, she briefly asked around the room, yet getting no answers, she finally went to the innkeeper and asked if Azrael had indeed reserved a room here. The innkeeper nodded, and handed her the second key for the room, but voiced his distrust of the man, saying that the paladin looked like death warmed over, and that she should consider getting a room of her own. Assuring him she was fine, she went up the steps to the room he indicated. Opening the door, she was surprised to find it dark, but Azrael was in bed, his armor polished and piled neatly beside his bed. His sword was propped against the wall, giving the room a faint blue glow. He seemed to be sleeping, so with all the silence her elven nature could give her, she undressed and climbed into the empty bed. Unable to sleep, she lay there going over the day's events. She had asked many people many questions, yet had ended up with more puzzles than answers. Exhausted, she was about to nod off when Azrael groaned in his sleep, and whispered, "Aelyena . . . "
Suddenly, Lsanna's fatigue was forgotten as her long ears pricked up at what she was extremely certain was a name. A woman's name to be precise. Azrael moaned and repeated, "Aelyena . . . " in such a heartbroken tone that the wood elf's heart leapt into her throat. As she sat up to better view his face using her innate night vision, she saw that he was crying, a slow trail of tears making their way down his cheeks as he clutched his sheets to him. She slid herself out of bed and kneeled down next to his. Did something happen with . . . or to this person that Azrael was still haunted by it? Such sympathy welled up in her that she almost felt like crying herself. She looked aside briefly to rummage through her clothes to find the handkerchief she had bought to replace her old one yesterday, and dried his tears with it. He seemed to calm down with that motion, though he still groaned every so often.
Impulsively, she reached out a hand and soothingly stroked his cheeks before the beard began. To calm some of her doubts, his skin was warm to the touch, not the coldness the bard feared. She had only been doing this for a few seconds when Azrael's hand moved up and closed about her own. She gasped, fearing he had woken up, but his eyes were still closed, and his face was peaceful for the first time since she had seen him. It was then that she saw that he wasn't proportionately that much older than herself. Though the remainders of stress lines creased his face, he was still a young man. Studying him further, she found that he was pleasant to look at, although not the most handsome or beautiful of men. He finally stopped shifting, sighed, and mouthed, "Aelyena . . . " one last time before settling back down into a peaceful sleep. Amazingly, Lsanna felt a pang of jealousy at that, but reprimanded herself, knowing they hadn't been together that long. As she climbed back into her own bed after gently prying his fingers loose, she was determined that if she could not, or would not ask about the rest of his past, this "Aelyena" deserved looking into.
The next morning, Lsanna awoke to find that Azrael was gone, yet his armor was still in the same place. Strangely, his sword was placed up on his bed, space cleared around it almost reverently. She frowned as she studied the cerulean-flamed blade; this was another thing that needed asking about. No Fiery Defenders were ever blue. But that was a mystery for another time, as the ranger's stomach began to growl, prompting her to get dressed and make her way downstairs. She found Azrael there, eating from a plate of cooked sausage and bread. She pulled out the stool next to him and sat down. "Good morning," he said hesitantly when he saw her, as if he didn't believe his own words. She smiled to herself and decided to act on that, "Is it a good morning? You certainly don't look like you had a good night." That wasn't true, for the dark circles under his eyes were lighter today than they had been yesterday.
"I never sleep well," he admitted between bites of bread. Her heart pounding, Lsanna decided to risk asking what she had decided she wanted to know last night, "So, who's Aelyena?" The reaction he had was pretty much what she expected, he started to choke on the piece of bread he had been eating. After an extended coughing fit, he began to breathe again, and she tensed for him to yell at her. But instead, he gave her a saddened gaze, and murmured, "Nobody . . . Forget about it. We should investigate your bank account today. The server will take your order, you just have to get his attention. I'm going to get ready now . . . I'll wait for you out front." He left his mostly-eaten breakfast where it lay and walked, half- staggered to the stairs. Again, he had evaded her question, but in a way, he had confirmed that Aelyena was indeed a name, and the name of someone very close to him. As the server brought over a copy of Azrael's breakfast without asking, she was more convinced than ever that Aelyena was a woman.
The rain still hadn't let up as they went out into the slick streets, and a dark gray sky hovered overhead as they made their way to the bank. Once there, she asked the teller to pull up her box. He did so, but something was clearly missing. There were two old Tumpy Tonics and the treant wood bow staff she had gotten as a back-up for her Trueshot Bow, but her money was missing. Not a single copper piece shined up at her as she rummaged through the pitiful contents. "Where are my coins?" she asked, disturbed rather than upset, she had barely thirty platinum coins' worth in there last she had checked. The banker grimaced as he checked the label that was on the side of the case, then responded, "Well miss, your account has been inactive for over two years. The bank has a rule that any account left inactive for such a period with a total money amount under a certain mark has their coins appropriated for loans. Accounts for deceased individuals or those who are totally inactive for such a time greater than ten years have their entire accounts appropriated for the benefit of the Norrath Bank."
Lsanna's eyes narrowed as she demanded, "So, what does this mean?" The banker returned her intense gaze with a dissatisfied stare as he replied, "Procedure is procedure, madam, if you wanted your account to stay untouched, you'd have kept it active." The ranger's cheeks reddened with anger, and she was on the verge of telling the clerk she had been symbiotically attached to a tree for those two years when Azrael placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him in surprise, as he quietly asked to see his own account. Grateful to deal with a less irate customer, the clerk retrieved his box. Azrael's was far fuller than Lsanna's had been, with extra equipment and many spell scrolls left, along with many bags of platinum coins. Lifting one free, Azrael then placed it in Lsanna's box. "Would this be sufficient to restart her account?" Azrael asked with a level gaze at the clerk. Raising an eyebrow, the clerk nodded, clarifying, "One thousand coins is more than enough, sir, but yes, Miss Wyldfyre's account is back in good standing. Please do try and maintain it better this time."
Several minutes later, she waved a brief goodbye to Azrael, who was heading off in the direction of the Temple of Thunder . . . apparently he was needed there. She was on her way to check more places when she saw the bard that she had spoken to earlier. He had been spying on the two of them, cringing off behind the corner of a building. When he saw that she had noticed him, he dashed off. Sighing, she engaged her tracking skill, following the tugging sense that indicated where he was in relation to herself. She followed him to a house where she found that one of the doors inside was locked tight. She knocked lightly, and he immediately shouted back, "Go away! I don't want to talk to you! You're involved with that thing shambling around with you all day!" She chuckled at how misinformed the man was, no dead man had body heat. "Take it easy, all I want to do is ask you a few more questions, then I'll go away and never bother you again, ok?" she called back. Silence passed for a few minutes, then she tried again, "What's your name?" It was an even longer period of time before she heard a barely audible response, "Blackout."
Encouraged, Lsanna pursed her lips and asked, "Are you sure about the dates you gave me yesterday? I asked a few other people, and they didn't match up." The reply she got chilled her. "Of course they don't . . . I purposely gave them false accounts. You probably heard, but Kunark was found a year and a half ago, and Velious only seven months ago. The Army of Light did wipe out, that wasn't a lie . . . But Azrael was spotted killing dragons in Velious before even most of the first adventurers arrived there . . . it fit with the story that he'd been there all along . . . but everything I've found out says that he's the same person . . . the same person that DIED at Veeshan's Peak! And now he's here, right in Qeynos!" Only that long ago? Lsanna mentally asked herself, realizing how close she would've been to seeing these strange lands that people had described, had she not been captured.
"But," she insisted, "I touched his face, he's not dead . . . what if he did escape from the Peak? Wouldn't that explain who dug the graveyard? And why he was killing dragons in Velious?" She could hear Blackout hyperventilating behind the door with her Elvish hearing, but his heartbeat was steadying. "You . . . touched him? Are you insane?" he cried after a few minutes. Disgusted with his prejudice, she grumbled back, "I told you, he's not undead, as far as I know, so just relax. You've told me what I want to know, so I'm going now. Don't follow me." "I won't . . . " came the answer from behind the door, but something didn't sound right. She could almost swear she could hear him chuckling as she exited the house.
To be continued . . .
Lsanna's eyes dropped to her lap as she mulled over what she had been told. As she thought, something came to her. "Do you know where my sister is? Has anyone been here asking for me?" she asked hurriedly, a distraught look on her face. Te'Anara smiled sadly, and replied, "Your . . . friends came looking for you not long after you disappeared, but . . . I have not seen any of them since they stopped coming a few weeks after you had not returned. I have no idea where they may be." Lsanna stared at her, unable to accept what she was hearing. "No . . . idea?" she choked, "I'm all alone? Where am I supposed to go after this? I can't search the whole planet by myself . . . " An idea came into Te'Anara's mind as she caught sight of Azrael edging towards the door. If she couldn't hold the man here by herself, she could make sure he stuck with the elf by sending her after him. She smiled and closed her eyes, telling the ranger, "You won't have to, for Azrael is going with you . . . Aren't you, paladin?"
Taken aback, Azrael stumbled over a chair and nearly fell. "What?" he demanded, irritated, but thankfully, apparently not angry, "I told you I was finished here! How much longer must I remain to do your errands?" Smirking at him, the druid narrowed her eyes and responded, "Oh, you won't be doing my errands anymore, you can wash your hands of me for all I care. But you owe something to the young woman whose life you saved. At the very least, get her started on places to look. Go to Qeynos, for starters. Despite the availability of teleportation now, people still come through the city, and the townsfolk there may still remember where her companions were headed. Two years wasn't that long ago." Lsanna's eyes lit up with hope, and she asked, as her eyes began to tear up, "Do you really think so?" The druidess nodded, but added, "But I think you ought to get dressed before heading out, don't you agree?" The ranger nodded, and wiped her eyes clean. She began to reach out for the banded armor lying on a stool near the bed when her hand stopped, and she turned her eyes to Azrael, who was still standing close by, glaring at the guild master. She coughed discreetly, drawing both his eyes towards her, and the druid to realize what she was after. "What?" he muttered, obviously not happy with how things were proceeding. "Some privacy is needed, I think, young man, march!" Te'Anara remarked, rolling her eyes, as she pushed him out the door so Lsanna could get dressed.
Grumbling, Azrael stood outside in the Qeynos hills, watching dark clouds roll in. Things had been going downhill ever since he had come back, and now, rather than being left alone, he had been tied to this woman, no, girl he had saved. He hadn't wanted to take on the druid's request from the start, yet something had compelled him to do so, and continued to keep him from leaving. Plus, he remembered with a grimace, he couldn't exactly run from a ranger, who could track him anywhere he went. Absently, his left hand traced random patterns over the hatch on his breastplate that hid the Amulet. This . . . power the dryad spoke of...what was he referring to? Could it be . . . No? Well . . . Maybe. I still haven't seen her fight yet, or really do anything either than sit up or talk. She might still be . . . he thought to himself, reflecting back to the odd statements the dryad had made. "Well? I'm ready," he heard someone say from behind, interrupting his train of thought.
Turning, he was amazed by the change in Lsanna's appearance. Her new armor gleamed in the remaining light not hidden by the clouds, and with her hair straightened, and her armor in her hands, she actually appeared back to her normal self as an adventurer. However, he noticed she didn't carry her swords upright, and as she moved to stand beside him, she still walked unsteadily. But her face was confident, and her eyes filled with hope and life. He smiled faintly at her earlier statement, and thought silently, Unable to search the world? I think she underestimated herself. Catching the smile on his lips, she gave him a smile of her own. His smile turned embarrassed, and he shook his head as he attempted to make his face serious again. "Up for a run to the city?" he asked, glancing towards what appeared to be rain approaching. "I'd rather walk," Lsanna replied, placing a hand on his elbow. As they walked down the rocky path towards the city, the sun gave a final burst of light before the clouds covered the sky, as if wishing them on their way.
"Lady, I don't recall ever seeing anyone like the people you described. I can't even remember what I had for dinner a week ago, and you expect me to remember some travelers who bought stuff from me two years ago, then left? Quit bothering me, I've got people here who actually want to buy some baked goods, if you don't mind," the baker complained as Lsanna sighed and stood back up straight from where she had been leaning on his counter. She allowed the queue that had been grumbling behind her to move in to buy items for their own dinners. She had been searching for three hours straight, and the afternoon had passed slowly away. It had been raining since almost before she and the paladin she knew only as Azrael had stepped within the Qeynos city limits, and they were both thoroughly drenched.
She raised the cloak Azrael gave her over her head as she stepped outside, but the time she had spent questioning the baking merchant hadn't given it much time to dry out, and it began to soak through again almost immediately, drops falling into her tangled hair. She found Azrael standing outside, leaning against the wall, and looking up into the darkening sky. He had given her his cloak, yet he had made no effort to find some other kind of cover for himself, as if he didn't even care that he was getting wet. When she had tried to ask him why he didn't purchase an oilskin from a tanner, he just muttered something about living in an area where it rained all the time for several years, and he was used to it. He greatly confused her at times, and yet she was slowly beginning to understand him.
She had met many people during what adventures she had before being ensnared into the dryad's clutches, including many human men. Yet she was traveling with a man she found unique out of any who she had previously met. He showed an education atypical of a warrior, and few priests that knowledgeable strayed far from their seminaries. She noticed that he seemed almost . . . tired of having to deal with people, yet despite his attempts to distance himself from the general public, he still seemed to hold compassion for them. On three occasions since they entered the city, he had helped people, even when he didn't have to. While all he seemed to want to do was find a room to lock himself into away from the crowds, he managed to find the spirit to rescue a little boy's dog from a ledge.
While paladins were almost expected to do these things, she was impressed by how he stuck to his principles despite the mental or emotional burden he was struggling with. The gratitude of those he had helped seemed to remind him of better times, for he actually smiled when they insisted upon thanking him. She had wondered if he was helping her because of this, but when she had asked, he had responded cryptically that, 'he had his reasons'. Yet instead of showing the reluctance that she had expected at first from his sullen attitude back at the Glade, he had become increasingly helpful, suggesting places she should look, people she should ask, and now and then, he answered some of her attempts to start a conversation. She hoped he was warming up to her, yet he still refused to tell her, or anyone else for that matter, much about himself. When she had stopped in Crow's Pub though, while Azrael stayed outside, she had asked about him, and was surprised by what she had heard.
He was actually well known, if only by reputation. Azrael the Three-Lives, or Azrael Heavenblade, as was his actual name. He had apparently earned his nickname by being a man reputedly impossible to kill, getting up at least three times slay the dragons he hunted in the icy wastes of Velious. She could understand the reputation paladins had of having two lives due to their Lay Hands skill, yet this 'third life' puzzled her. When she had asked about it, the man that had been talking to her knew little more than she did. He had heard about this from another as well, and all that he could say was that those who had witnessed Azrael fighting had seen him rise once more even when they thought he had been dead to attack a final time. Some say he rose up in a halo of light, others a cloud of darkness, more swore that he was surrounded by roaring flames. All attributed it to the gods' favor, yet none apparently could agree who was his benefactor. She dared not ask him herself.
It was growing late when Azrael suggested that she ask the bards at the Wind Spirit's Song. They too hadn't seen her friends, or her sister, Hillodania, in ages, yet they said that several bards were out on errands, and would be back at varying times, and that she should try again. Just as she was thanking the guild master for her help, Azrael stepped inside and said matter-of-factly, "We should get a room for the night, or week, however long this takes. Come to the Lion's Mane Inn after you're done here." He then walked back out into the shadowed streets and the rain as silently as he had come in. Lsanna sighed, and turned to apologize, but she was struck by the odd look upon one of the bards' face. "Who . . . was that?" he asked, as if he had seen a ghost instead of a man. Lsanna looked back in the direction Azrael had left and replied, "Him? That was Azrael Heavenblade. He's helping me around, why do you ask?" The half-elf seemed to grow even more disturbed, but he slowly resolved himself and shrugged, muttering, "No, it's impossible." Intrigued, Lsanna tapped his shoulder and prompted, "What's impossible?" The bard thought for a moment, then asked, "That was Azrael the Three-Lives, right, not Azrael Heavenblade of the Army of Light, correct?"
Frowning, the wood elven woman stepped back, confused now more than ever, tugging on a sodden lock of chestnut hair. "You mean they're different people?" This was the first she had heard of this 'Army of Light'. "They'd have to be . . . I mean, Azrael the Three-Lives has been killing dragons and wyrms in Velious for what, two years now? While I know the names are similar, it can happen, and besides, Azrael of the Army of Light died along with the rest of the guild three years ago. Unless he's a zombie, the Azrael I just saw must've chose his surname out of respect to the other," the bard told her, making nervous gestures and repeatedly massaging his neck, as if he was trying to convince himself rather than her. "Died?" the ranger demanded, a fluttering feeling in her stomach rising. "Yeah . . . don't know the whole story, but apparently they wiped out attempting to conquer Veeshan's Peak in Kunark, for people found a massive graveyard outside the peak with the names of almost every guild member on it. A few names were missing, but that can happen if not everyone's body is found. Nobody had the keys to get in but them, so they couldn't be rezzed. Now that I think about it, there wasn't anyone who owned up to building the graveyard in the first place . . . " the bard went on, then his face went white as he realized what he had just said. "I . . . I've got to go," he stammered, then half-ran out of the building.
Her long ears drooping, Lsanna just stood there, uncertain of what to think. While the bard's story checked out with several others she asked, nobody seemed to believe that this 'other' Azrael had survived, and that the one she was traveling with was a copy-cat. Still . . . nobody survived a wipeout that didn't gate or evacuate out of an area, something that would be impossible for a paladin, who would be on the front lines. And Veeshan's Peak she had heard from listening to idle talk had some kind of magical barrier around it preventing anyone from teleporting out of it. Nobody could have escaped. Yet who had buried the remains of the guild? The mysteries surrounding her companion kept growing, yet despite her doubt and slight panic, she felt like she didn't want to leave him. She knew asking him directly would not be prudent, at least not now, so she would just have to wait, and keep asking. Surely somebody knew the whole story.
Walking back through the dimly lit nighttime streets, she made her way to the inn and stepped inside. There was a buffet still mostly full of food in the commons which she helped herself to, yet there was no sign of Azrael. After her groaning stomach finally felt full, she briefly asked around the room, yet getting no answers, she finally went to the innkeeper and asked if Azrael had indeed reserved a room here. The innkeeper nodded, and handed her the second key for the room, but voiced his distrust of the man, saying that the paladin looked like death warmed over, and that she should consider getting a room of her own. Assuring him she was fine, she went up the steps to the room he indicated. Opening the door, she was surprised to find it dark, but Azrael was in bed, his armor polished and piled neatly beside his bed. His sword was propped against the wall, giving the room a faint blue glow. He seemed to be sleeping, so with all the silence her elven nature could give her, she undressed and climbed into the empty bed. Unable to sleep, she lay there going over the day's events. She had asked many people many questions, yet had ended up with more puzzles than answers. Exhausted, she was about to nod off when Azrael groaned in his sleep, and whispered, "Aelyena . . . "
Suddenly, Lsanna's fatigue was forgotten as her long ears pricked up at what she was extremely certain was a name. A woman's name to be precise. Azrael moaned and repeated, "Aelyena . . . " in such a heartbroken tone that the wood elf's heart leapt into her throat. As she sat up to better view his face using her innate night vision, she saw that he was crying, a slow trail of tears making their way down his cheeks as he clutched his sheets to him. She slid herself out of bed and kneeled down next to his. Did something happen with . . . or to this person that Azrael was still haunted by it? Such sympathy welled up in her that she almost felt like crying herself. She looked aside briefly to rummage through her clothes to find the handkerchief she had bought to replace her old one yesterday, and dried his tears with it. He seemed to calm down with that motion, though he still groaned every so often.
Impulsively, she reached out a hand and soothingly stroked his cheeks before the beard began. To calm some of her doubts, his skin was warm to the touch, not the coldness the bard feared. She had only been doing this for a few seconds when Azrael's hand moved up and closed about her own. She gasped, fearing he had woken up, but his eyes were still closed, and his face was peaceful for the first time since she had seen him. It was then that she saw that he wasn't proportionately that much older than herself. Though the remainders of stress lines creased his face, he was still a young man. Studying him further, she found that he was pleasant to look at, although not the most handsome or beautiful of men. He finally stopped shifting, sighed, and mouthed, "Aelyena . . . " one last time before settling back down into a peaceful sleep. Amazingly, Lsanna felt a pang of jealousy at that, but reprimanded herself, knowing they hadn't been together that long. As she climbed back into her own bed after gently prying his fingers loose, she was determined that if she could not, or would not ask about the rest of his past, this "Aelyena" deserved looking into.
The next morning, Lsanna awoke to find that Azrael was gone, yet his armor was still in the same place. Strangely, his sword was placed up on his bed, space cleared around it almost reverently. She frowned as she studied the cerulean-flamed blade; this was another thing that needed asking about. No Fiery Defenders were ever blue. But that was a mystery for another time, as the ranger's stomach began to growl, prompting her to get dressed and make her way downstairs. She found Azrael there, eating from a plate of cooked sausage and bread. She pulled out the stool next to him and sat down. "Good morning," he said hesitantly when he saw her, as if he didn't believe his own words. She smiled to herself and decided to act on that, "Is it a good morning? You certainly don't look like you had a good night." That wasn't true, for the dark circles under his eyes were lighter today than they had been yesterday.
"I never sleep well," he admitted between bites of bread. Her heart pounding, Lsanna decided to risk asking what she had decided she wanted to know last night, "So, who's Aelyena?" The reaction he had was pretty much what she expected, he started to choke on the piece of bread he had been eating. After an extended coughing fit, he began to breathe again, and she tensed for him to yell at her. But instead, he gave her a saddened gaze, and murmured, "Nobody . . . Forget about it. We should investigate your bank account today. The server will take your order, you just have to get his attention. I'm going to get ready now . . . I'll wait for you out front." He left his mostly-eaten breakfast where it lay and walked, half- staggered to the stairs. Again, he had evaded her question, but in a way, he had confirmed that Aelyena was indeed a name, and the name of someone very close to him. As the server brought over a copy of Azrael's breakfast without asking, she was more convinced than ever that Aelyena was a woman.
The rain still hadn't let up as they went out into the slick streets, and a dark gray sky hovered overhead as they made their way to the bank. Once there, she asked the teller to pull up her box. He did so, but something was clearly missing. There were two old Tumpy Tonics and the treant wood bow staff she had gotten as a back-up for her Trueshot Bow, but her money was missing. Not a single copper piece shined up at her as she rummaged through the pitiful contents. "Where are my coins?" she asked, disturbed rather than upset, she had barely thirty platinum coins' worth in there last she had checked. The banker grimaced as he checked the label that was on the side of the case, then responded, "Well miss, your account has been inactive for over two years. The bank has a rule that any account left inactive for such a period with a total money amount under a certain mark has their coins appropriated for loans. Accounts for deceased individuals or those who are totally inactive for such a time greater than ten years have their entire accounts appropriated for the benefit of the Norrath Bank."
Lsanna's eyes narrowed as she demanded, "So, what does this mean?" The banker returned her intense gaze with a dissatisfied stare as he replied, "Procedure is procedure, madam, if you wanted your account to stay untouched, you'd have kept it active." The ranger's cheeks reddened with anger, and she was on the verge of telling the clerk she had been symbiotically attached to a tree for those two years when Azrael placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him in surprise, as he quietly asked to see his own account. Grateful to deal with a less irate customer, the clerk retrieved his box. Azrael's was far fuller than Lsanna's had been, with extra equipment and many spell scrolls left, along with many bags of platinum coins. Lifting one free, Azrael then placed it in Lsanna's box. "Would this be sufficient to restart her account?" Azrael asked with a level gaze at the clerk. Raising an eyebrow, the clerk nodded, clarifying, "One thousand coins is more than enough, sir, but yes, Miss Wyldfyre's account is back in good standing. Please do try and maintain it better this time."
Several minutes later, she waved a brief goodbye to Azrael, who was heading off in the direction of the Temple of Thunder . . . apparently he was needed there. She was on her way to check more places when she saw the bard that she had spoken to earlier. He had been spying on the two of them, cringing off behind the corner of a building. When he saw that she had noticed him, he dashed off. Sighing, she engaged her tracking skill, following the tugging sense that indicated where he was in relation to herself. She followed him to a house where she found that one of the doors inside was locked tight. She knocked lightly, and he immediately shouted back, "Go away! I don't want to talk to you! You're involved with that thing shambling around with you all day!" She chuckled at how misinformed the man was, no dead man had body heat. "Take it easy, all I want to do is ask you a few more questions, then I'll go away and never bother you again, ok?" she called back. Silence passed for a few minutes, then she tried again, "What's your name?" It was an even longer period of time before she heard a barely audible response, "Blackout."
Encouraged, Lsanna pursed her lips and asked, "Are you sure about the dates you gave me yesterday? I asked a few other people, and they didn't match up." The reply she got chilled her. "Of course they don't . . . I purposely gave them false accounts. You probably heard, but Kunark was found a year and a half ago, and Velious only seven months ago. The Army of Light did wipe out, that wasn't a lie . . . But Azrael was spotted killing dragons in Velious before even most of the first adventurers arrived there . . . it fit with the story that he'd been there all along . . . but everything I've found out says that he's the same person . . . the same person that DIED at Veeshan's Peak! And now he's here, right in Qeynos!" Only that long ago? Lsanna mentally asked herself, realizing how close she would've been to seeing these strange lands that people had described, had she not been captured.
"But," she insisted, "I touched his face, he's not dead . . . what if he did escape from the Peak? Wouldn't that explain who dug the graveyard? And why he was killing dragons in Velious?" She could hear Blackout hyperventilating behind the door with her Elvish hearing, but his heartbeat was steadying. "You . . . touched him? Are you insane?" he cried after a few minutes. Disgusted with his prejudice, she grumbled back, "I told you, he's not undead, as far as I know, so just relax. You've told me what I want to know, so I'm going now. Don't follow me." "I won't . . . " came the answer from behind the door, but something didn't sound right. She could almost swear she could hear him chuckling as she exited the house.
To be continued . . .