4th Day of Flocktime, 565 CY
Drachensgrab Hills, The Pomarj
(About 3 miles due west of the Slavers' Stockade)

Everyone was hurting.

The party sat on the rocky ground under a large overhang of rock that formed the base of a large hill. It was only about three feet high, so the six individuals were forced to not only sit, but to sit hunched over.

They were cold, but Argo and Nesco had vetoed the idea of a fire. It was just too dangerous, they said, until they had put some more distance between themselves and the fortress.

They were hungry and thirsty, but their rations had been exhausted and there was no time to spend hunting.

They were tired, but there was no time for any rest beyond this five-minute breather.

Deep down, most of them felt that it didn't matter much, anyway.

They didn't expect they were going to get very far.

Argo Bigfellow Junior stared morosely at the section of the landscape that he could see from under the overhang.

Although it was the same terrain that they had traversed on their journey to the stockade, it somehow looked considerable more depressing now. An endless chain of hills, rocky and uneven ground, and large boulders. No vegetation other than the occasional scrub or lichen. Even the moonlight did little but accentuate the bleakness of their surroundings.

The air was cold, and it was silent.

Argo sighed and spoke aloud, not looking at any of the five individuals seated to his right.

"We should probably be moving on soon."

The responses to this proclamation ranged from silence to resigned sighs to grumbles and mutterings.

Argo tried on a smile.

"That's not speaking from any kind of a leadership position, of course."

Not even the hint of a return smile greeted him. Nor did anyone make a move to get up.

Argo eyed Talass, who was sitting to his immediate right. The cleric had drawn her knees up, laid her arms across them, and was resting her head there, facing Argo. Her eyes were tightly closed, although he knew she was awake. Bigfellow tried to look past the horrible sight that had once been Talass' nose, but the rest of her face was little better, being covered in dirt, cuts, dried blood and old tear tracks. It was a sad sight, and the big ranger knew it mirrored how Talass must be feeling.

Argo chewed on his lip. Prior to this expedition, he would have been hard-pressed to recall a single instance of seeing Talass cry, but ever since Elrohir's petrification, it seemed almost impossible for the priestess to hold back her tears. Argo honestly hadn't been sure she'd had the capacity, sometimes thinking that Talass was as cold as the land she came from.

Although Bigfellow was somewhat ashamed to admit it- even to himself- he'd often thought that Elrohir and Talass didn't have as strong a relationship as he and Caroline did. Certainly, they were not as demonstrably affectionate towards each other in public as Argo and his wife were.

Looking at her now, though, Argo remembered how she had trembled in his arms when they had hugged, and then relaxed, drawing strength from the mere memory of her husband's embrace. The bedrock between Elrohir and his wife was there, all right. Argo knew that now, and furthermore he doubted that he would have been able to carry on as Talass had if it had been Caroline who had met the gaze of the medusa.

"Talass," Bigfellow whispered.

Two blue eyes opened to regard him.

"He'll be all right, Talass," Argo continued. "He'll be okay until we can come back for him. They won't find him."

"Even if we could get back there, we'd never get back to civilization with him," she whispered back. "You know that, Argo."

Bigfellow smiled and bumped her shoulder with his own. "Hey, you're the priestess, remember? When we need a miracle, whom else do we turn to?"

Talass lifted her head slightly.

"You know, it's funny," the cleric said thoughtfully. "I've always prayed to Forseti for deliverance when things are desperate, and I always harangued Elrohir to pray to him as well, or at least to the All-Father, for the same. Sometimes he did, I think, but sometimes I think he would look elsewhere."

Argo frowned. "Whom did he look to?"

In happier times, the expression on Talass' face might almost have been called a smile.

"You. Me. All of us."

Argo's eyebrows nearly hit the stone roof overhead. The ranger turned away, trying to digest that thought.

He didn't know how to respond to it.

"Tarass-san."

The priestess turned her head to the right. Tojo had been talking quietly to Nesco, on his right, but now the samurai was addressing her, although his eyes, as usual, would not meet hers.

"Nesco-san say that you awso come back with her to save me, and that- that your prayer hear me." The samurai, unable to bow in these cramped quarters, did so with his eyes. "How you aber to do this in midst of batter?"

Talass kept up her almost-smile.

"Just lucky, I guess, Tojo-sama."

Tojo seemed to consider this, and then turned his head forward again. Talass however, leaned slightly towards him.

"May I ask you something, Tojo?"

The samurai's violet eyes darted back to the cleric. Talass could feel his body, so close to hers but not touching, tense up. He said nothing, but she decided to go ahead and ask anyway, as she knew it was not the personal type of question Tojo was undoubtedly dreading.

"That hobbie you killed with your wakizashi- he was covered by both invisibility and silence. How could you possibly have known where he was?"

Tojo raised his eyebrows in the matter he always did when he felt a question had an absurdly simple answer.

"Ground very dusty, Tarass-san," he shrugged. "I see footprints appear in dirt as he move."

Talass shook her head. "You're unbelievable, Tojo. You know that? You're absolutely unbelievable."

The samurai grunted, uncomfortable with the praise.

"Not so, Tarass-san. I not even think to rook until too rate. Ambush awready happen by then. I- not as crever as I shood be."

She hadn't been planning to, but Talass suddenly decided to take a chance. Trying to keep her real motivation out of her voice, she asked casually, "Do you hope to do better in the future?"

Tojo frowned. "Awrays try to increase skirrs, Tarass-san."

Now Talass gave a real smile as she sprang the trap.

"Does that mean you intend to be around to try, Tojo?"

The samurai took a deep breath. He clearly was not happy that the cleric had brought up the subject, but he couldn't find it within himself to ignore her. After a moment, he calmed himself and looked away again.

"We wirr see, Tarass-san. We wirr see."

Nesco was shaking her head in amazement as she listened to Cygnus, on her right, relate his tale of his guerilla warfare against the stockade's inhabitants. "There's one thing I still don't understand, Cygnus," she said, shaking her head. "Back at the very beginning. I was in the silence field, but I could still see the three flashes of light coming from the courtyard. How in the world did you survive three of your own shooting stars?"

The tall mage, bent nearly double at the moment, smiled guiltily. "It was actually only one, Nesco. When I set it off, the blast hurled the half-orc off of me and straight up into the air. It felt like a monstrous force had pushed me down into the dirt, but I was still alive, so I thought I had somehow miraculously escaped without serious injury." The magic-user's eyes grew distant with memory. "Just as he reached the apex of his, er- flight, it suddenly came to me that I could fire off the other two shooting stars at that precise moment without catching myself in the blast. I could see he was still alive, so I let him have it." Cygnus paused before continuing, his voice more sober now.

"That killed him all right, but now his body was falling right back onto me. I rolled out of the way, and it was then that I realized I was on fire. Luckily, my rolling around in the dirt put it out, but then the pain hit." Cygnus swallowed, his eyes roaming over his charred skin. "I was in agony. I ran over to the fountain and jumped in- thank Odin there was still water in the basin." He paused for another moment before continuing. "Somewhere I could hear voices in goblin, getting closer. I don't know how I was ever able to cast my invisibility spell, but somehow I did."

He shrugged and was silent.

"But," Nesco said, a little embarrassed as she indicated Cygnus' pelvis with her eyes. "Your spell component pouch- how did it survive?"

The magic-user smiled and held up the pouch, indicating the dark red, scaly material.

"Salamander hide," he said. "When I trained up at the Guild, Zantac convinced me to buy one. Said they were all the rage." He shrugged as Nesco gazed in wonder at the identical pouch Zantac was now waggling at her across from Cygnus. She'd never taken a good look at them before.

"I've seen luck in my time..." Zantac said, shaking his head in amazement. Cygnus turned to regard his fellow wizard.

"You realize of course, that if you'd only let me have that damn ring of Icar's, I wouldn't look like I got left overnight on a spit right now."

Zantac hung his head down without replying.

Cygnus frowned. He'd been expecting a snappy retort.

"I'm sorry," Zantac whispered, barely audible. "I'm sorry..."

Cygnus stared in amazement as he watched the tears roll down the Willip wizard's face.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," he repeated, bumping Zantac's shoulder. The red-robed mage hastily dried his eyes and turned back to Cygnus, his expression of disdain contrasting oddly with the sorrow still in his eyes.

"Two rings for you?" Zantac replied hoarsely. "Aren't we the greedy one? You want to try wearing my bracers, too?"

Cygnus smiled. "Well, someone's got to get things done around here."

"I know," Aslan called out. "That's why I came back."

The paladin winced as five separate cries of pain echoed out from under the overhang as five heads collided with the rock roof overhead. Only Tojo had not instantly tried to erupt into a standing position.

Aslan shook his head in bemusement as his companions staggered out from under their shelter, but his expression turned to shock as he saw how much worse they looked than the last time he had seen them.

Then it turned to horror.

"Elrohir!" he cried out, stopping the approaching party members dead in their tracks. "Where is he?"

Argo held out his hands in a pacifying gesture. "He's not dead, Aslan, so listen up. Icar's quarters contained a medusa, and Elrohir was turned to stone before we- before Tojo that is- slew it."

"That much I know," interrupted the paladin. "But where is he now?"

The party exchanged glances.

"How could you have known that, Aslan?" Talass asked, not without some suspicion.

Aslan gestured impatiently. "I've been searching the fortress for you- what did you think? I heard things. But continue- where is he?"

After a brief silence, Argo continued. "In Icar's hoard, we found a scroll of several strength spells, which was just enough for us to get Elrohir outside the fortress." The ranger indicated a large boulder about ten feet behind Aslan. "Just before the last spell ran out, I lifted up the edge of one of those boulders like that one- they're all over the place just outside the stockade- and Talass used her stone shape prayer to hollow out a space in the rock's underside just big enough to hold him. Then we put the boulder back down over him and fled."

The paladin nodded slowly while trying to return his breathing to normal. He exhaled loudly while wiping his forehead with his forearm. "That was some pretty quick thinking there."

Cygnus took a bow, smiling. "Thank you. I thought so." The mage straightened up and turned back to Zantac. "Like I told you- getting things done."

His fellow mage just shook his head. "I've seen conceit in my time..."

The party had by now reached Aslan. His very appearance gave them pause; despite the fact it was about the best they could have possibly hoped for. Aslan looked as fresh as a daisy. He was without wound or blemish, and his plate mail gleamed like new.

It was hard not to feel jealous.

"Aslan," Talass said, trying hard to keep her voice from breaking, "Elrohir. He weighs too much as a statue for you to teleport." The priestess clenched her fists in frustration. "What are we going to do?"

The paladin thought for a moment, and then held up a finger. "I have a few ideas, Talass, but you're going to have to wait a little while for that."

The cleric's face fell, but Aslan continued quickly. "All of you," he swept his arm to cover the whole party. "I need an article of clothing from each of you."

There followed one of those peculiar silences that Cygnus was beginning to think was unique to his friends.

I wonder if other adventurers ever have these problems, he thought.

Talass blinked her eyes and cleared her throat. "Um- excuse me?"

Argo shook his head sadly. "I've heard those stories about the priests of Heironeous, but..."

Aslan scowled. "Yuk it up, Bigfellow. You won't be laughing if a boggle finds you."

"A what?" Nesco asked.

"A boggle," replied the paladin. "Those gangly, blue-black creatures. They're faultless trackers, from what I've heard, and hobbie hunting parties employing them are out looking for you right now." Aslan's face grew hard. "In fact, one of them is less than a mile off as we speak."

The party glanced around uneasily.

"They track by scent," Aslan explained. "I'm going to turn into a bird and drop off the clothing at specific spots to create false trails. I've got to move fast though, so let's have it. Come on!"

It took about a minute, not counting the obligatory risqué comments from Argo, who insisted on standing near Nesco and Talass. However, modesty was preserved as armor fragments and a swatch of a fire-red robe were piled into Aslan's backpack, which now lay at his feet.

Cygnus could do little but smile sadly, shrug and glance down at the pitiful remnants of his trousers.

"Not happening, Aslan."

The paladin rolled his eyes. "I'll manage, Cygnus." He pointed towards the west, and then looked back at the party. "Argo, Nesco. Keep leading them that way. I'll catch up with you as soon as I can, but I don't know when that'll be."

Nesco stepped forward. She had to fight off a sudden urge to throw her arms around the paladin for a hug. In her current state, she couldn't help but think of him as her savior. Perhaps the very one she'd prayed for at the window.

Or perhaps the other one she'd sought. Long, long ago.

Aslan glanced at her, curious.

Lady Cynewine smiled nervously. "I know I should wait to ask you this, Aslan, but I'm just curious. I was worried that- in your state- you might have attacked the priests of Heironeous before they could cure you. Did you- have any problems like that?"

Aslan looked at Nesco for a moment, and then an embarrassed grin spread over his own face, which flushed.

For some reason, Nesco thought Aslan looked cute like that. She turned her gaze politely off to the side until the paladin was ready to continue.

"To be honest Nesco, I don't know. The last thing I remember clearly was being in the kitchen. Everyone was talking about were-creatures, and then," Aslan's face registered only confusion. "Everything after that is pretty much a blur until I woke up laying in the temple, with Gareth Heldenster praying over me."

Nesco nodded, satisfied, but Aslan's eyes suddenly narrowed.

The paladin took a few steps towards Argo and stopped, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Although now that you mention it, I do seem to recall someone insulting the heck out of me at one point!"

All eyes turned towards the big ranger, but Argo merely flashed a brilliant smile, walked up to Aslan and put his arm around the paladin's shoulder in a fatherly fashion, glancing down at his friend.

"Well, that just goes to prove what I've always said about life, Aslan."

Aslan sighed loudly. He'd walked into another one and had no choice but to see it through.

"What?" he asked brusquely.

Argo, still smiling, leaned in closer to his friend's scowling face. Strangely, Bigfellow's eyes seemed to contain not mischief, but genuine affection.

"It's the important things that stay with us," he said softly.

The big ranger winked at the paladin and moved off. Aslan couldn't help putting his gauntleted hand over his eyes and groan.

"I could've just bit him. I could've just turned into a wereboar and bit him."

"You can always polymorph, Aslan," he heard Cygnus call out.

Aslan took his hand down and looked back at the magic-user with a wistful expression. "No, Cygnus. It just wouldn't be the same."

But as he turned back for one last check on his backpack, Aslan couldn't help but take note of the smiles he had seen on every one of his friend's faces. It contrasted so vividly with the despair he had seen written there mere minutes before as he had flown in front of the overhang in fly-form to confirm he had heard their voices before risking turning back into his true form.

Is this part of my sacred duty, Lord Odin? he wondered. Mother never told me there'd be days like this.

The party watched as the large owl flew off to the east, the straps of a backpack clenched in its talons. It grew smaller and smaller and finally swept down below a distant hill and was lost to sight.

Nesco took a deep breath and turned back to her companions. Well, she thought. Argo keeps saying I'd be a fine leader. Let's try it out for a few minutes.

"I'll take point for a while," she told her fellow ranger. "You cover our rear, Bigfellow. I'll try to find us the smoothest path to follow. The rest of you, once we're underway, try to avoid unnecessary conversation. Sounds can travel very far in the hills on nights like tonight."

She was pleased to see there were no apparent objections. Smiling, she turned back to the front, and they were off.

For all of one minute.

"Nesco!"

Cynewine sighed and turned around at Zantac's shout. Before she could ask what was going on, she had followed the wizard's outstretched hand to where it was pointing.

Argo Bigfellow had stopped dead about thirty feet behind Zantac. He simply seemed to be staring into space, although as the party backtracked and approached him, it was evident that he was speaking. Or at least, his lips were moving, but they stopped just before anyone could make out what he had been saying.

"Argo. What is it?" Nesco asked as they all came up to him.

It was bad; she knew that at once. Bigfellow, his awareness of his surroundings coming back to him, glanced at each of his companions. His face couldn't hide his worry.

"I- I just received a sending from Monsrek," he said.

There were sudden intakes of breath. Everyone glanced at each other rather than face Argo. Eventually, Nesco swallowed hard and did so.

"What is it, Argo?" she asked. "Is-"

She stopped, unable to get the word Caroline out of her throat. "Is- everyone all right?"

Bigfellow's auburn eyes quickly settled on her. Slowly, he nodded.

"Yes, Nesco. No one was hurt. But- there…"

"What is it, Argo?" Talass asked quietly.

Argo took a deep breath.

"An earthquake," he said. "There's been an earthquake back at the Brass Dragon."