Disclaimer: I do not own Record of Lodoss War, Ashram, Pirotess, Groder, etc. Although I wish I did. Sigh
Chapter Three
Fire and Water
Plagued by nightmares, Ashram found little peace in sleep. However, he was awoken by a ruckus outside. He reluctantly opened his eyes and went to sit up. He was unable to bite back a cry as stabbing pains shot through his back and torso. One of the hurried footsteps and raised voices threw back the tent flap in haste. Pirotess darted in.
"Lord Ashram! Are you all right? I heard you shout…" her saber was drawn and she stalked about the tent. Ashram clenched his teeth and strained upright, muttering curses.
"I'm fine!" he spat. "It's nothing. Go away," he added as she turned to him.
"Oh?" she murmured. "My apologies for intruding then, sire," she bowed and left, all the while, her sharp golden eyes trained on him. Ashram growled, placing his head in his hands. After steeling his will, he stood and after several minutes of stretching his painful muscles, he started donning on his pitch-black armor.
Dragons. Every time he needed something, dragons were in the way. He sighed. He had slain dragons before, and he would do it again, but he had best not get overconfident, he thought. He reached a hand up to his hair and grimaced at the mess. He did not have a comb, or a brush. He did not exactly think about hair care, when he was evacuating Marmo. Instead he ran his still ungloved fingers through the knots, straightening it as much as he could, but it was still dirty. Actually, he was just filthy period. Attaching the Soul Crusher to his belt, he made his way out of his tent. He paused after pushing aside the flap to his tent. The clearing was busy; people were running to-and-fro carrying crates. Ashram walked over to Groder who was standing by a stack of crates, apparently directing people.
"What's going on?" Ashram asked when he stopped by the former sorcerer.
"Sire, you're up," Groder turned to him.
"Yes Groder, now what's going on?" Ashram repeated.
"Oh, we're moving the supplies from the shore. The tide is coming up farther than we expected," Groder explained.
"Ah," Ashram muttered. "Good work," he said. "Have any surveying teams gone out yet today?" Ashram began back towards the beach and Groder fell into step behind him.
"Yes, sire. Pirotess led a group of Dark Elves early this morning," he reported.
"And what did they find?" Ashram asked.
"There are great plains to the northeast, at the foot of the mountains; it seems to be promising farmland," Groder reported and Ashram nodded as they reached the beach. Indeed, the waves were lapping up to the vicinity of the crates, but there were very few left; Ashram noted that Groder was yet again proving his capability.
"Good. How are the people faring?" Ashram looked around, watching the men move the crates and the women maintain them.
"Very well, sire!" Groder exclaimed. "We are regaining our strength very quickly! I actually have a theory that there's something about the fruit that grows here, milord…"
"Really? What is that?" Ashram glanced at the pale gray sorcerer.
"I think… Lord Ashram, you said this was the land of the Gods… I think there is some magical properties to the flora that grows here. Our people are gaining their strength far too quickly for this to be normal, not that I'm complaining," Groder smirked.
"Hm… healing fruit?" Ashram murmured as he ambled over to the same makeshift table, which now held a new supply of fresh fruit. He picked up one of the star-shaped fruit. "These ones?" he held it up to Groder, who nodded with a 'yes, sire'. Ashram's eyes narrowed. This was the same type of fruit the voice, Barbas, had so amusedly said was his favorite. Perhaps there was a reason it was the King of Gods' favorite fruit. "You're sure it's not poison or anything," Ashram asked, turning back to the sorcerer. "Perhaps it has some negative effects?"
"We have not found any ill-effects, milord. And Pirotess tested each type of fruit for poisons; they were all negative, sire," Groder assured the Black Knight, who then took a small bite of the oddly shaped fruit. It was a bit tart, but pleasant enough. Groder was still standing at his side by the time Ashram had finished the fruit and went for a second. He stopped before biting into the next one. He looked back at the sorcerer.
"Is there something want to tell me?" he asked and Groder jumped a little. He gave a small bow.
"Yes, sire, I just thought it might please you to know that there is a small secluded pond were you can bathe before you start up for the day," Groder stated. Ashram's eyebrows rose.
"Ah, that sounds wonderful," he muttered with a small smile. Groder's own face broke into a wide smile when he saw.
"I thought you might like it. There are actually several places for bathing, but we have sealed off a particularly nice section for the higher ranking officials," he explained. "There's actually a path past your tent to the water. If you follow it upstream for a ways you will find a small tent, which marks the bathing grounds," he directed, and Ashram finished his third fruit.
"Thank you, Groder, I believe I will do that," he stated but paused. "Hm… did we unload the weapons and maintenance supplies?" Ashram asked and Groder bowed.
"Yes, milord," he answered.
"Well then, would you fetch me a stiff brush, oil, and rags so I can clean my armor?" Ashram requested. It really was more of an order, but he was feeling rather lenient now.
"Of course, sire. I will be back momentarily," he replied with a bow and walked off onto a path in the forests, quickly disappearing through the trees. Ashram helped himself to a goblet of water and then stopped himself. His eyes narrowed in suspicion again. The food was too good.
"Oh come on now, stop being so paranoid. It's fruit. It's not addicting," Barbas' voice laughed and Ashram nearly jumped.
Must you always surprise me? Ashram thought agitatedly.
"That's no way to speak to me," Barbas' voice was no longer laughing; instead it was low and menacing. "I'm being nice to you. I'm letting you keep your life for the time being. I'm letting you live on my land. I'm letting you eat my food," Barbas growled. Ashram was beginning to sweat. He stepped away from the table, attempting to avoid the prying stares of humans and Dark Elves alike. "I am Barbas! King of the Gods! I could take your life right now! Lord Ashram! HAHAHA! You should show some respect."
Forgive me, I didn't mean such disrespect, Ashram thought while backing into the dark trees. You must understand, we have been under a terrible strain… I…
"You have a lot on your mind, that's it, right Lord Ashram?" the voice chuckled.
I… forgive me, Ashram gulped. He could not afford to die now, he still needed to rid the land of those dragons, and he needed to oversee the construction of the settlement. He still had so much more to do. Barbas laughed again. He seemed to be enjoying Ashram's torment.
"Do not fear, Ashram. I will spare your life for now," Barbas cooed. "In fact, why don't we make a pact of a sort?"
A pact? What sort of pact? Ashram thought.
"I will give you a certain amount in time, in which I will leave you be, and you will be able to work with your precious little people to your heart's content. Then, when the time comes, you will give me your life," Barbas proposed.
How long?
"A year," Barbas stated flatly. Ashram took in a deep breath. A year. Was it possible to create a settlement in a year? Could he do everything he needed to in a year? He closed his eyes.
Alright, Ashram agreed and Barbas' confident voice laughed again.
"Good, you know better than to argue with me. I would have just shortened the time period to six months, if you had," he laughed and Ashram bit his lip so hard the coppery taste of blood soiled his mouth. There was no lingering taste of the tart star fruit. "All right then, Ashram. You have one year to wrap up your life. Fare thee well," the echoing laugh was all Ashram could hear for a few moments. He was still shaking his head and covering his ears when Groder pushed back the bushes.
"Milord? Are you all right? Did the star fruit not work for you?" Ashram chewed on his lip as he stepped past the sorcerer, out into the light. He never noticed before how many questions his trusted ally asked. Or perhaps this was a recent development. Ashram pushed the thought aside.
"I was just standing in the shade. I prefer not to stay out in the sun for so long," Ashram practically pointed to his burnt skin. Groder, who had similar pale skin, wore a hood, so he did not have the same problem as his master.
"Ah, I see, sire," Groder stated, a bit flushed at the triviality of the answer. "Here are the cleaning supplies for you, sire!" he quickly remembered and thrust his hands out in front of him, clasping a bag. Ashram took it from him. "Are you sure you don't want to have one of our smithies do it for you, sire?" Groder called, as Ashram turned back towards his tent.
"No, Groder, I like to take care of myself," Ashram stated with a small smile and glinting eyes. He made off towards the tents, passing several people hard at work restoring crates and going through the supplies. He supposed he should be a little thankful to Groder and Pirotess. They were only worried about him. The only thing was, it insinuated weakness. Not too long ago, Ashram would not have tolerated the thought, and would have immediately punished the person for even thinking it. He could not afford to be weak then. Although he did not think he could now, either. He just could not seem to make them stop asking him. He grimaced as he past the tents and brushed through the forest, pushing back the shrubs. Next time he would give whoever happened to insult him again a good talking-to about how the emperor was just fine and was only annoyed when they continued to pester him about it. Yes, he would do that. The sound of trickling water met his ears long before he came unto the crystal clear water. He paused a minute, for he was startled by the sheer beauty of the water. It was clearer than any water he had ever seen before, and the pebbles at the bottom of the riverbed shone and sparkled through the water.
Ashram spotted the tent and calmly walked inside, freeing the tent flap to close seal the tent. Setting aside his armor and sword aside, he dropped the bag full of brushes, oils, and rags onto the ground. Within moments he was in the water, washing the dirt and salty grime from himself. He took a small bar of soap from the tent and wash soon finished washing. He dropped his clothes in the water and scrubbed them with the same soap as well. The crystal clear water washed away the grime and Ashram watched as the dirt was swept down stream. He hung up the soggy clothes on a branch and settled back down in the water. He smirked to himself as he took one of the brushes from the bag. Of course it was a brush made for picking out little pieces of dirt from the crevices of armor, but it would work on hair too. He divided his hair into manageable sections, and began to brush his way through, and scrubbing soap into it.
When his long black hair was straight and tangle-free, and his clothes were dry enough. He stepped out of the water and back into the tent, wringing out his hair and letting the water drip off. He slid into his clean clothes and studied the frayed seams. Well, they would have to do, clothes would be taken care of after homes were built. He then knelt next to his armor. It was incredibly filthy. The salt from the water in the very air had condensed in the cracks. He slathered the armor in water, and began picking away at the cracks. Once the surface was no longer brittle with caked-on salt, Ashram went over it with a rag moistened with oil, smoothing over the cracks and greasing the joints. After letting the oil and grease soak into the metal and leather, Ashram donned it on once more. It was nice to no longer have the grains of sand and salt scraping against his skin.
He pushed open the flap to the tent and latched it on the side, taking the bag of brushes, oils and rags with him. After dropping off the bag in his own tent, he returned to the clearing where the crates had been stacked. Just as he had expected, he found Groder directing several workers.
"Groder!" Ashram called as he strode towards the gray sorcerer.
"Ah, milord Ashram, I trust you are feeling better?" came the response. Ashram stopped in his tracks and his eyebrow twitched a bit. To tell-off, or not to tell-off? Ashram sighed and continued to the circle of men.
"Yes, much refreshed," Ashram stated. "Now, I want a team formed," he ordered, glancing about. "Groder, you stay here. Without your sorcery this will be too dangerous for you. However, where is Pirotess?" Ashram asked.
"Sire, she's out with a group of Dark Elf scouts. They are checking the plains and setting stakes for the property lines," Groder answered and Ashram adapted his mental plan.
"Alright," he breathed. "Where is Priest Hobb?"
"With the families, sire."
"Groder…" Ashram shifted his weight onto one foot as he gazed at the soldiers meandering meaningfully about the crates. "Do you know of any skilled sorcerers among the ranks? They would come in handy against the dragons," poor Groder looked like he had seen a ghost.
"D-dragons? Sire, you mean to fight dragons? Again? Milord, please, you remember-"
"Yes, Groder! I remember Fire Dragon Mountain well enough, but that was an ancient dragon, and it wasn't even the dragon that… well, it had nothing to do with the dragon!" Ashram was growing frustrated again. "Anyway, are there any other sorcerers or not?" Ashram almost stomped his foot in impatience as he stared down the former sorcerer.
"There – there are Dark Elves… their shamanistic magic could be of some use," Groder stuttered. "But, I'm afraid we're fresh out of human sorcerers," Groder managed to report rather evenly, although his face appeared mangled with emotion. Ashram wanted to turn away, but decided it was best to deal with it now, instead of letting it simmer. It was barely ten seconds before Groder burst out: "Milord, I'm so sorry! If I only still had my magic I would not be such a trouble! You would not be without a sorcerer and vulnerable to magic! Please! Let me petition the Council! They will understand now! They must realize, if I had let you die, we would never have gotten away from Marmo, we would never have-"
"Set out on an insane voyage to a land that we did not know exist. We would never have lost eight shiploads of people – men, woman, and children – we would not have lost Kanan," Ashram interrupted, and Groder looked taken aback. "Groder, I appreciate your loyalty, but you are blind to my faults. I am not," he snapped. "I doubt the council will grant you your powers again so soon, but go ahead, petition. But I don't want it to get in the way of your duties! You are my administrator," Ashram tapped the gray man's shoulder. "Even without your sorcery, you are always of use, never forget it," he stated a bit softer, watching Groder soak up the words as he spoke them. "No one is useless," Ashram added and stepped away.
"Yes-yes milord…" Groder choked out, "thank you. I will go to the Council right away!" he bowed and scurried off. Ashram paused before making his way to the family camp. He should probably pay the Marmo Council a visit sometime soon. He shook his head and began at a brisk walk towards the family camp; the Council could wait. He came across the Priest of Myrii healing a boy who had scraped his knees and hands. Ashram let him finish. When the boy turned around and saw Ashram standing there, his eyes became nearly as large as dinner plates.
"L-L-L-Lord Ashram!" he cried in surprise, and the Black Knight gave a small nod in acknowledgement as several of the surrounding women and children quickly turned to stare.
"Pardon the interruption, but I am afraid I must whisk away Priest Hobb, young one," Ashram said in his nicest voice possible. It would do no good to scare the boy any more out of his wits than he already had.
"Ah-Ah-Ah…" was all the poor boy could stutter. Hobb put his hands on the stammering boy's shoulder. The boy nearly jumped in the air and looked up at the Priest.
"Why don't you return to your mother, son? It seems my abilities are needed elsewhere," Hobb smiled down at the boy who absent-mindedly nodded and ran off to one of the women in the crowd. "What can I do for you, milord?" the stout priest asked and Ashram began walking through the camp. The priest fell into step behind him almost automatically now.
"I would like you to accompany myself and a small party. We are going to make sure the plains are safe to settle," Ashram said as they reached the other edge of the forest. He stopped and gazed across the rolling plains.
"Of course, sire," Hobb replied. Ashram almost shook his head; the man's loyalty to him was great, but his almost hero-worship was greater. The more he thought about it, the more Ashram realized that to his closest followers, he could do no wrong. That made him uncomfortable. He had made too many mistakes already for them to be so blind. Ashram scanned the plains and saw flashes of shadow darting towards them. His ever-constant guard tightened, but he refrained from drawing his sword. Pirotess led the group of Dark Elves towards him.
"Milord!" she called, as the group of five Dark Elves bowed on one knee to him.
"Pirotess," he replied, lifting his chin. His gray eyes moved to the young Elf beside her; it was Elensar. "Anything sign of enemies?" he asked.
"No, sire. The plains seem only to be inhabited by wild horses, birds, some gophers, and a few birds of prey," Pirotess reported, still on one knee. Ashram didn't move his eyes from the young student of Dragon Lore.
"What about you? Did you see, or sense anything?" he asked the young Dark Elf. Elensar's eyes widened at being directly addressed, but he soon refocused them on the ground.
"Towards the mountains, sire," he replied curtly, and Pirotess shot him a rather angry and confused look. Apparently, he had not told her of his discovery.
"Tell me, Elensar, all Dark Elves are trained in combat, and shamanistic magic, are they not?" Ashram folded his hands behind his back.
"Y-yes, sire."
"What are you trained in?" Ashram asked curtly and the poor Dark Elf looked like he was about to dissolve.
"Lance-combat… shamanistic magic, of course… and… and dragon magic, sire," Elensar finally stated. He seemed to at least try to ignore the blatant stares of his fellow Dark Elves. Ashram took it all in-stride.
"Ah, so, what can dragon magic do?"
"It… well, it can do many things sire… It can make one immune to dragon fire for three hours… It can turn things invisible… it can summon the power of dragons or the dragons themselves…"
"Is it anything like elemental magic?"
"Well, yes, it can call upon the power of a fire dragon, or a water dragon, and it will effectively become a fire or water spell."
"Good, you're coming with us then," Ashram stated abruptly. "Pirotess, you too. The rest of you are dismissed," he waved them away and they swiftly dispersed. Pirotess stood with a look somewhere in between confusion and jealous pinned upon her pretty face. Elensar appeared rooted to the spot. Pirotess waited for Ashram to continue, but when he didn't, she turned to her cousin.
"Dragon magic!" she squealed. "So that's where you've been," she huffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder.
"I – you – uh," he stammered as he got to his feet. Ashram looked the young Elf up and down. He was naturally scrawny, it appeared, that much was evident even aside from the trip they had just endured. Ashram studied him for a second longer. His Elven tunic and breeches were covered with a vest and loincloth of some scaled material that Ashram had the suspicion was dragon hide.
"You don't seem to be the Dragon Master-type," Ashram stated flatly and the Dark Elf boy looked a bit discouraged and Ashram leapt at it. "Like that, you don't seem brave enough," Ashram shifted a bit, glancing at Hobb, "I've never known such a timid Dark Elf," he called over his shoulder and Pirotess looked absolutely appalled.
"Sire!" she interrupted, stepping in front of her cousin with a bow. "Please, Elensar is still young. After all, what exactly do we know about this… dragon magic? Nothing, please, let us get another sorcerer, surely-"
"There are no other sorcerers, Pirotess," Ashram stared at her. "If we will not use his dragon magic, then perhaps his shamanistic magic will be of more use," he added.
"Sire, I can do that."
"Yes, but I want you in the melee with me," he said and immediately regretted his choice of words. The blush on her face was enough to make him want to turn back time. He really did not need to encourage her. He did not have time for it. "I don't want to be the only one taking hits," he quickly added and a wave of understanding seemed to wash over the three around him. Of course, that made sense. The emperor could not have himself being killed first. Elensar gulped. "Don't worry too much," Ashram said as he started out into the plains. "It will only cloud your judgement. Actually, before we go," Ashram turned to Hobb. "Ask the great god Myrii to strengthen our resolve and steel our wills, that should help him a bit."
"Of course," Hobb bowed to Ashram then raised his hands in prayer. Ashram watched the young Dark Elf as he suddenly found himself feeling thrice as confident in his strength as he had two seconds before.
"There," Ashram said with a ghost of a smile. "I believe we are ready to go find those dragons now, aren't we?" and after noting an affirmative nod from each of them, he began the trek to the mountains on the other side of the plains.
Author's Note: Okay, who saw thereference to Record of Lodoss War: Welcome to Lodoss Island! Tehe. Alright, and I know Ashram seems a little OOC, and rather emotional... but keep in mind all that he's been through: he led his people on an expedition in which he lost several shiploads of men, women and children, because of this he has begun to doubt his own capability. Of course, he already was a changed man after the incident at Fire Dragon Mountain, of that much we can be sure. So, all of this change is rather disconcerting to him.
Then there's the fact that Pirotess is continually um... well, too loyal to him. I guess that's one way to put it. I am in favor of their relationship, but they just don't up and say 'I love you!'. Dark Elves believe themselves better than humans, if a human, even Lord Ashram, were to court Pirotess, the Dark Elves would not support it, well... not without good reason. Let's just say, Ashram and Pirotess' relationship is very risky. Ashram knows it, and he doesn't want to encourage Pirotess' feelings, but he can't outright spurn her, because he doesn't have the heart. That is the very same reason he doesn't quite know how to handle her.
Then there's Groder... ugh. He sacrificed his sorcery in order to save Ashram, and now, I guess you could say he is a bit overzealous in protecting his emperor.
Then there's also the fact that he now has a disembodied voice taunting him in his head.
Whoohoo. And all of this leads up to a rather emotional, confused, and rather OOC Ashram. And okay, this is a very long Author's Note... Buh-Bye now!