17th Day of Readying, 565 CY
The Brass Dragon Inn, Furyondy
There were more people sleeping outside the inn than inside.
They were divided into two main groups. The Sir Dorbin party was set up about fifty yards southeast of the inn, to the south of the main road. Directly across the road were several tents belonging to Sir Hallian and his entourage, whose full numbers approached Sir Dorbin's party in size. Numerous tents and two opaque hemispheres of magical force had been set up, and several campfires blazed. Both groups were getting ready to retire for the night. There had been some conversation (particularly between the two knights), but now the last stragglers were heading back to their own campsites to turn in.
Tadoa, Mirage at his side, sullenly watched. He had spoken with both groups, trying everything he could think of to be allowed to accompany Elrohir and his party to Chendl, but no one would promise him anything.
Aslan's voice came from far off.
"Mirage!"
The wardog bolted, heading home towards the paladin's cabin. Tadoa followed. When he saw Aslan standing in his doorway, ready to turn in, the elf picked up his pace.
"Aslan!" he called out, puffing to a stop as he came up. "Aslan, can't I please go with you tomorrow?"
Aslan inwardly grimaced. He knew this had been coming. Why am I always the one to bear bad news? he thought briefly, before pushing self-pity aside. He knew this would be hard on the child. "Tad," he began, "We've already talked this over. Yes, Sir Hallian would take you along with us if we demanded it. But that's no guarantee that you would be granted an audience with the king with us. And even if you would, we need you here."
"To do what?" Tadoa cried. "Sir Dorbin's already said he and his party will watch over the inn while you're gone!" He glanced back over to their campsite just in time to see Wescene and Sitdale disappear into a tent together. The child swallowed hard and turned back. "There really isn't anything here for me," he added in a quiet voice.
"Sir Dorbin and his party are not familiar with the Flanaess, Tad" Aslan replied, looking the elf in the eye. "You are. Situations may arise where they will need your help; your advice, your wisdom. I understand your disappointment, but we do need you here. I ask you as a friend, and as a valued companion, to make this sacrifice for us."
Tadoa stared back for a while. Whatever it was that made him an oddity among elves was battling with just being a child. He dropped his gaze to the ground. "All right," he said softly, then began to walk away.
"Tadoa!"
The child turned around. Aslan gave him as much of a smile as he could muster.
"You watch out for flies, all right?"
The elf started a smile, then dropped it and just nodded. "I will. You too."
The paladin slowly closed his door, then bent down and rubbed Mirage's ears. "You look after him, boy," he said to the wardog. "You look after him with your life."
Argo and Caroline lay spooned together, underneath their blanket. Argo had taken a short nap upon arriving home, so he would be up later "for other activities" as he had put it. Although Sir Hallian's arrival had put a damper on things, Argo had been uncharacteristically quiet even beforehand, after relating the story of his quest to his wife (Once Caroline heard the phrase "golden apple" she had said nothing until her husband had reached the end of his narrative).
Now the two were quiet. Caroline could feel Argo's warm breath on the back of her neck. She smiled and inched backwards, getting the maximum amount of body contact. Argo's hand wandered slowly, knowledgeably, bringing Caroline wonderful waves of warm pleasure. To think she had been (or thought she had been) so close to losing this...
Her husband's voice drifted over softly. "Are you ready for tomorrow, my love?"
Caroline languidly turned around, taking Argo in her arms. His expression was a mixture of love and concern. She smiled at him, and they kissed. "Of course. I've stayed in practice. I have to admit, I'm looking forward to it, whatever it turns out to be. I can't help but wonder how our names came to the attention of the king himself, though."
The ranger looked thoughtful. "Baron Chartrain was in Chendl a while ago. I wouldn't be surprised if he mentioned us. We're useful tools, you know."
Caroline gave him a wry look, propping her head up on the bed with her elbow. "And I thought I was cynical."
Argo returned the look. "Look, I'm not saying there's no difference between Belvor and Ivid, but I didn't go live in a swamp for ten years just to kowtow to the latest sovereign who comes along. I'd rather look forward to other things," he said, caressing Caroline's neck with a light touch of his fingers.
"Like loving?" she asked, smiling, her voice low.
He nodded. "And children."
Earlier, that comment would have been troubling to his wife. Now her smile merely deepened as she began a series of kisses down Argo's chest.
"You'll have them, Argo Bigfellow Junior," she said, moving up to whisper in his ear. "Just as you promised me, I promise you that."
Cygnus had just begun to doze off when he heard the knocking on his door. Drowsily, he pulled on a nightrobe, stumbled to the door and opened it.
Zantac stood outside.
Cygnus eyed him with heavy lids. "I don't care how many nightmares you've had, Zantac; you are not getting into my bed."
The Willip wizard crossed his arms. "Is that what passes for wit on Aarde? No wonder you came here."
Cygnus rubbed his eyes, trying to keep them at least half-open. "What is it, Zantac?"
His fellow mage eyed him with a steady look. "I want to come with the rest of you tomorrow."
Cygnus' eyes blinked fully open.
"Is this what passes for sanity here on Oerth?" he asked. "Why in the name of Asgard would you want to do that? There are plenty of ways to get killed a lot closer to home."
"Look Cygnus," Zantac replied, moving past him into the room, where he sat down on the only chair. "If I'm going to stay here with you people, I have no intention of being a leech. I have to know how you think, how you fight. You may not want to join the Guild, but that hasn't stopped you wanting to hone your skills, has it? It's the same with me!"
"Come on in, Zantac. Have a seat, why don't you?" mumbled Cygnus sleepily as he sat down on his bed. He shook his head to try and clear out the cobwebs. "Sure, I have no intention of taking up knitting, but marching out on some godforsaken quest, mission or what-have-you was not what I had in mind." He glared at Zantac. "There are other ways to improve our skills. Ways that won't leave my son an orphan."
His fellow mage shrugged and gave him a sad smile. "Yes Cygnus, but you have no choice," he said quietly. "You've been summoned by King Belvor. Unless you can improve your skills hanging upside down, naked, in some dank prison, you're going to go. And I want to come along. You know the king will accept me if it means making your party stronger. Whatever he's going to ask of you, he doesn't want you to fail."
Cygnus stared at Zantac for a long time, then shrugged. "You're a damn fool, Zantac. You know that?"
The older magic-user sighed and gave Cygnus a sage look. "Yes, as I reliving my lunch today after imbibing that poison that you tricked me into swallowing, I realized that I might be a touch more foolish than I had supposed." He stood up and headed back outside to the corridor, stopping in the doorway. "But I've wanted to be a wizard all my life. More than anything else in the world." He paused. "Sound familiar?"
He left, the door closing quietly behind him.
Elrohir raised his head slightly as he heard someone walking down the corridor to his room. Zantac, he guessed, judging from the direction of the footsteps. He breathed a silent sigh of relief as he heard the wizard's door open and then close. The ranger looked back at his wife.
Talass was asleep, but she was clearly having unpleasant dreams. Her face was twisted, and her hands clenched and unclenched the sheets. Elrohir was debating whether it would be better to simply wake Talass up and comfort her (perhaps with one of those foot rubs that she liked so much) when the cleric's eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright in bed, gasping. Dudraug the cooshee was already up, standing at the foot of the bed, gazing expectantly at her.
"Dearest- what is it? Did you have a nightmare?" Elrohir asked, taking her hand and softly rubbing it.
Talass' blue eyes flew to meet his. With great effort, she slowly slowed her breathing down, using her self-control to eliminate any signs of losing control. Talass hated to lose control, and she hated to have anyone else see her doing it. She nodded slowly but waited to speak until she was sure her voice would be steady.
"Yes. Not just a nightmare, though. An omen."
Her husband frowned. Talass rarely remembered her dreams, and for that reason considered most of them to be omens. Elrohir, being a worshipper of Asgardian gods, hardly denied the existence or importance of omens, but he still thought that their interpretation could be colored by the viewpoint of the one who experienced them. Still, his wife was a priestess, and that fact could not be discounted entirely.
Her hand clenched his tightly. "I don't remember most of it, but there was a fossergrim. He told me that both great sorrow and great glory lay before us. He led us past a waterfall, and there was a lake, and a volcano rose up in the middle of it." His wife's eyes closed in her attempt to wring out every possible detail. "There was a town or city on the base on the volcano." Talass' eyes opened again, looking vacantly at Dudraug now. "A place of great evil." She stroked Dudraug's head with her right hand, holding firmly onto her husband's hand with her left. "I heard a dragon roar, and then the volcano roared back. The earth trembled, and the skies above grew dark with smoke. I couldn't see any of you anymore..."
She turned to look back at her husband. "We shouldn't go, Elrohir. We shouldn't be doing this."
Elrohir tried to avoid a sigh of exasperation, but it just came too quickly. "Dearest, you know we have no choice in the matter."
The scowl he had been waiting for made its appearance.
"You're happy about this, aren't you? "Unretirement" at last! Fine! Don't say I didn't warn you!"
She laid back down on the bed, her back to him.
The ranger slowly lay back down next to his wife. "Dearest," he said softly. "Cast a zone of truth if you want and listen to me. I won't lie to you. Yes, a part of me is excited about this. What we could gain. Not just in treasure, but in the gratitude of a king! Do you know what that could be worth to us. To our son?"
Elrohir didn't really expect any of this to sway his wife, or even to soften her mood. She surprised him however, by rolling over to face him. She said nothing, but she looked sad- almost vulnerable, in fact.
He took her hand again and kissed it softly. "I'll confess to you, Talass. I am scared, but we'll get through this together." He risked a smile. "Do you remember our wedding vows, Talass? One is now stronger than two?"
Talass surprised him again by hugging him fiercely. He could hear her voice, straining to hold back tears. "The fossergrim; he wouldn't say who, even though I asked. I begged, and pleaded... he said... if we went onward..."
Elrohir pulled back just enough to look back into his wife's face again. "What did he say, Talass?"
Despite her best efforts, a single tear rolled down Talass' cheek. She whispered softly to her husband.
"He said one of us wouldn't be coming back."