The Rainmaker's Staff
by Tanya Reed
Here, my friends, is the next part in this continuing saga. I had a lot of fun with this section--I hope Nigel won't hate me for it. (You'll see what I mean.) Thanks to everyone who's still reading, and, of course, to my beta. You know who you are. :)
Disclaimer: As always, RH, Nigel, Sydney, Claudia, Karen, Derek, Cate, Preston, and anyone else in the canon universe that I mention are not mine. All I own are the idea, the new world, and the new faces.
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The next morning, Sydney didn't tell Nigel about her strange visitation. She wasn't even sure if it was real. The details were rather fuzzy, so she thought there was a pretty good chance it had been a dream. The only things she remembered clearly were the warning to be careful and the young woman's pain-filled eyes.
She did, however, tell Nigel about her conversation with Yorn. He winced when she told him about the dangers they faced but otherwise took it well. Sydney actually felt pretty good about the whole thing. It was nice to finally know what they were heading into.
They were off quite early that morning. Nigel was still yawning as they rode out of the quiet little town. Yorn informed them that it would be two more days before they saw a bed again.
Sydney thought about Karolyne and what she had given up for her kingdom. It was hard not to think of it becuase she kept seeing the spectre's eyes in her mind. Sydney hated seeing people in pain, especially women, and she wished there were some way she could take the Rainmaker's pain away. But the Rainmaker had been dead for at least a thousand years.
She also thought of the vision's cryptic remark. Who was coming? Were they this world's version of rival relic hunters? Sydney had dealt with those before. She should be able to keep them from getting, or at least keeping, the Staff.
They were now surrounded by forest. The road they were following had narrowed considerably and Nigel and Sydney could barely ride abreast. Yorn rode slightly ahead of them, as usual.
Sydney was pleased to see that Nigel was handling his horse a lot better, and that he didn't seem to have as much discomfort. She was getting used to the gentle rhythm herself, and she found herself dozing in the saddle at times.
The day passed without event, though Sydney noticed the trees were getting browner, and the vegetation seemed droopy. Nigel was in one of his talkative moods and spoke about the book on ancient mysteries he had been reading when they were torn from their home. Sydney listened to him passively, letting his words and his lilting accent wash over her like spring rain. She wished she could give a little of it to the withering world around her.
Sometime in the afternoon, she was brought back to reality by his asking, "So, do you think Karen is missing us?"
"If things work like Rayzi said, she may not even know we're gone."
"Well," Nigel admitted, looking at the reigns in his hand. "I miss her."
Sydney wondered if Nigel was finally cluing in to the signals Karen was sending. Thanks to their not-so-fun time in the sand, she knew that Nigel thought Karen was a nice and pretty girl. Though, it wasn't Karen he said he loved. Sydney smiled.
"I'm sure if she knew we were gone, she would miss you too."
He blushed. "It's not only Karen I miss. I miss my apartment and my books..."
"And don't forget your new lamp."
"Yes, even the bloody lamp. I think I'm homesick." Then he shrugged. "Pretty strange for a man who hasn't had a real home in at least fifteen years."
This news came as a relief to Sydney, though she didn't show it. Nigel had been immersing himself so deeply in this experience that her earlier fears kept coming back.
"It's only natural to feel homesick, Nigel."
"Do you?"
That was a good question. Was she? Like Nigel, Sydney hadn't really had a home, though while he was suffering through boarding school, she had been travelling the world and absorbing different cultures. She rarely got homesick, though once in awhile she longed for Hawaii. She had spent the biggest chunk of her life there, and when she was there she could feel her mother's arms around her.
"No, but I've been travelling a lot longer than you have."
He accepted this, though he still looked glum. Sydney thought it might be the oppressive feeling to the forest. It was silent and watchful. She wondered if it was the forest's thirst she was feeling or whether there was something dangerous she should worry about. She decided to remain alert just in case.
By the time they made their final stop of the day, in a small clearing Yorn told them was designed for this purpose, Sydney was feeling pretty tired. She was happy when Yorn asked her if she preferred first or second watch. Though second watch had your sleep disrupted in the middle, Sydney could think only of her bedroll. After they finished with the horses and ate their small meal, she crawled in beside Nigel and immediately fell asleep.
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"Sydney!" This time the voice calling her was no ghostly spectre, but one she held dear and would give her life to protect.
Sydney sprang to her feet, her dagger in her hand. "Nigel!"
Her heart almost leapt out of her chest as she saw Nigel being hauled out of his bedroll by a man three times his size. The muscles of his forearms were bigger than Nigel's legs. Nigel looked terrified.
Nigel was in one of the man's meaty hands, but in the other he held a jagged dagger.
"Let him go," Sydney said calmly, though she felt anything but.
The man smirked at her and hauled Nigel in towards his body, holding the dagger to Nigel's throat. Nigel's eyes sought Sydney, and she tried to will him reassurance. The expression on his face calmed a little, though his skin was still as white as milk.
"What do you want?" she asked the man, her voice still as calm as she could force it.
"I want the Staff. I know you have it."
"We don't. We haven't found it yet."
The man showed his teeth. They were pointy and sharp. "I don't believe you."
"If you hurt him," Sydney hissed, letting some of the anger come into her voice, "I will hunt you down and kill you."
"I am not afraid of your threats, Sydney Fox."
With that, the man jerked his hand sideways, ripping his knife through Nigel's throat. The smaller man didn't even have a chance to make a noise as his blood exploded from him, spraying Sydney as the bandit's had.
"Nigel!" she screamed, horror washing over her body and soul. "Nigel."
The man dropped Nigel's limp body and came towards Sydney. She met him half way...
Sydney jerked awake, her heart pounding in her ears, and sweat trickling down her chest.
"Nigel!" she gasped, sitting up quickly.
Around her, the night was quiet and lit faintly by the glow from their globe light. Nearby, she saw the form of Yorn sleeping, and, on the other side, Nigel's empty bedroll.
"Nigel," she called, trying to keep panic from her voice.
"Sydney." It was the sweetest sound she'd ever heard. "Are you all right?"
He came into the circle of light, Yorn's dagger in his hand. With concern in his eyes, he knelt beside her. Unable to resist the need to prove to herself that he was alive, she threw her arms around him and hugged him close. He must have felt her shaking because he wrapped his arms around her as well.
"It's okay. You just had a bad dream."
Embarrassed, Sydney pulled away and straightened Nigel's clothes. "Sorry, Nige."
"Was it a really bad one?"
She looked at him levelly for a moment, not knowing what to say. Eventually, she settled on, "Yes, it was."
"Well, it's over now." He patted her shoulder gently. "And there's nothing out there that you can't handle. Go back to sleep."
Since Nigel was alive and well, she sighed and lay back down. She watched him as he sat on a log nearby, gripping Yorn's knife in his hand. He looked almost as if he were guarding her dreams.
Sydney rolled over on her side, pillowing her face on her hands and watching Nigel through half-closed lids. The dream had been so real, the shock of it was still pumping through her system. She didn't want to close her eyes all the way. What if the dream came to her again?
She blamed the dream on the apparition of the night before. Its warnings and the images of Karolyne's slaughtered family had been running around in Sydney's brain all day. Even so, she promised herself to keep an extra sharp eye on Nigel for the days to come. Being cautious never hurt. With this thought, she finally let her eyes drift closed and let the image of her best friend watching over her lull her to sleep.
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The next five days passed uneventfully. The quiet was starting to grate on Sydney's nerves. Even reaching another small town offered no excitement--or bath, she was disappointed to discover.
She had managed to remain civil to both Yorn and Nigel, which was no mean feat. Nigel seemed to recognize her mood and stayed clear of her. Yorn, on the other hand, seemed to delight in baiting her. It was hard to ignore him when all she wanted to do was smack him upside the head.
As they rode up to the second to the last town on their route, Yorn warned them what to expect. They had entered lawless territory, and the denizens reflected that. The three of them would be best served to get a room together because there was safety in numbers. Sydney's bad mood deepened.
Her first impression of the inn when they entered was that it was both dirty and dingy. The thought of sleeping there made her skin crawl. She had slept in worse places, as she had once told Yorn, but that didn't mean she liked it. Despite his job, Nigel had always hated getting dirty, and his thoughts about the place showed plainly on his honest face.
"Keep your bags close," Yorn hissed as they made their way through a crowd of unsavory looking characters.
Sydney didn't have to be told. She held her bag in a death grip and watched Nigel's in front of her as well. She didn't like the feel of this place. It was of the type that set your teeth on edge the moment you walked in.
As they approached the bar, Sydney noticed the innkeeper was a small, rat-faced man, with eyes as hard and cold as a glacier. He rubbed his hands on a dirty apron as they approached and smiled ferally.
"Well, hello, Yorn. It's nice to see you again."
Yorn scowled. "We need a room for the night. A little less flea-infested this time."
Nigel flinched at his words. Sydney didn't feel so optimistic herself. It would probably take days to wash off the grime of this place.
"201 is free," he said, exchanging key for money. "Would you like someone to carry your bags?"
"No, thank you." This was Sydney. No other hand but hers was going to touch her pack for the remainder of their journey.
The innkeeper noticed her for the first time, and his smile grew wider. "We don't get many women in here." He eyed her in a way that made her nauseous. "It's always...a treat. In fact," This time he eyed Nigel, "we don't get many boys as pretty as you in here either. Let me know if the two of you want to make some money on the side."
"Wha...?" Then Nigel saw the look Sydney was shooting him, and his face flamed. Subtlely, he moved a tad closer to her, and his eyes peered around the room.
"We don't need any...extracurricular activities, thanks," Sydney said, glaring at the innkeeper.
"Let me know if you change your mind. You could get a handsome price for you as a pair."
"We just want some grub and some sleep, Antone...and maybe a little ale. Send Ji over with the special," Yorn growled.
"Am I going to want to know what the special is?" Sydney asked as they headed towards a free table.
"Probably not. Try not to taste it. It helps if you wash it down with the piss they call ale here."
"Sounds great," Nigel muttered.
"Just don't make eye contact, little guy, and you should be all right."
Yorn's condescending tone grated on Sydney's last nerve, but Nigel didn't even seem to notice. He just put his head down as instructed and moved even closer to Sydney.
They found a table near the far wall where their closest neighbors were a table of extra rowdies who were extra drunk and owned lots of hair but almost no teeth and a table containing a small, shifty looking man nursing an ale. Sydney sat on one side of their table and Yorn on the other. They put Nigel in the middle, with his back to the wall. He had his pack clutched tightly in his arms and was looking around with wide eyes.
"Relax, Nigel," Yorn ordered.
Nigel started slightly at his words but made a visible effort to unclench. Sydney couldn't blame him for being tense. She was tense herself. Her fingers itched to reach down into her boot and grab her knife.
It wasn't long before a very cranky looking rotund woman made her way to their table. She had two trays in her hands. One had three bowls of something brownish that Sydney guessed was their meal, and the other held a large pitcher and three grubby mugs. She stomped up to their table and banged her burdens down one dish at a time.
Without a word, the woman held out her hand. Yorn placed a couple of coins in it, so she grunted and stomped away.
"Charming," Nigel commented, but not very loudly.
Sydney gave him a crooked smile before staring forlornly into the brown sludge in front of her. After contemplating it several moments, she glanced at Nigel. "You first."
He made a face but gamely picked up the crude instrument that she assumed was a spoon. Yorn just snorted at the two of them and dunked his own spoon into the mess. Sydney and Nigel watched him closely, alert to any signs that he might keel over. The guide slurped the stuff off of his spoon and grabbed his mug. When he showed no sign of dropping dead in his slop, Sydney nudged Nigel. Her assistant closed his eyes and tentatively took his own bite.
Sydney almost laughed out loud at the expression that crossed his face, but forced it down--much as he had the soup. He also grabbed for his mug, which Yorn filled wordlessly. Nigel gulped the contents and started coughing. Sydney reached out and pounded him on the back.
"Is it that bad?"
"Worse." His voice was harsh from coughing, and his eyes were watering.
Sydney eyed her own bowl and considered not eating. Practicality won out, though, and she bravely grabbed her spoon. Nigel's face was still twisted, which wasn't very encouraging.
"It's better to eat it quickly," Yorn advised. His bowl was almost gone. Nigel, in contrast, hesitated to take his second bite.
Sydney sighed, then took a gulp. A taste like rotten eggs, old gym socks, and gasoline agressively burned across her tongue and rolled her stomach. She had been expecting bad, but even liver coated with cockroaches and cat litter would have tasted better. If it weren't for the fact that they had eaten almost nothing that day, she would have followed her mouth's impulse to spit it out. Instead, she forced it down past the lump in her throat. She managed not to gag, and even refrained from taking a gulp of ale. It wasn't easy.
"Sydney?" Nigel asked.
"It's nourishment, Nigel. Eat up." Though it was the last thing she wanted to do, Sydney made herself take another bite. She blinked her eyes rapidly to dispel the water that quickly gathered there and fought a viscious battle with her stomach.
It was the longest meal of her life. Even imagining her favorite foods didn't help. The urge to gag was almost unbearable, but eventually she had consumed everything in her bowl. She was proud to see that Nigel had done the same. Let Yorn think he was a wimp now!
Sydney had chosen not to drown the taste of her sludge in ale, but between the two of them Yorn and Nigel had drunk almost the whole pitcher. Sydney didn't know about Yorn, but Nigel never could hold his liquor. His eyes were bright and glittering as he put down his spoon.
"Yorn," Sydney said lowly, "I think it's time we went to our room."
Yorn looked at Nigel's flushed face and nodded, helping the smaller man to his feet.
"Where are we going?" Nigel asked. "And why is the room spinning? Is Rayzi sending us home, Sydney?"
Fondly, Sydney took Nigel's arm. "Oh, Nigel."
"Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?"
"We're just going for a little nap. You'll be fine in the morning."
"Not mad?"
"No, not mad." Sydney couldn't blame him for drowning that awful taste of slop away with ale. She just wished he hadn't had quite so much.
"Good." He put his head on her shoulder. "I don't like it when you're mad at me, Syd."
She patted him absently, her attention on the room around them. Her arm went around him to steady him and to grab onto his pack. She knew he couldn't possibly have a strong enough grip in his condition.
"You smell nice," he mumbled. Since she'd been bathing in streams instead of having a nice long bath for the past several days, she decided that intoxication was making him delusional.
"Come on, Nigel. Up to bed."
He tried to comply, stumbling into a nearby table and bumping into one of the men seated there.
"So sorry. I do apologize," Nigel mumbled.
The man turned and regarded Nigel with fishy eyes. He was a large man, and bald, with a scar running from eyebrow to chin on his right side. He also didn't look like he'd ever had a sense of humour. Slowly, he put his mug down and got to his feet. He towered over Sydney and Nigel. He even towered over Yorn. Nigel blinked at him blearily.
Sydney immediately forgot about protecting their bags. Protecting Nigel seemed like more of a priority at the moment. Yorn, who was slightly ahead, on the other side of the mountain of a man, turned and Sydney saw the exasperation in his eyes.
Sydney hauled out her sweetest, most innocent smile. "My husband is so clumsy. He's not himself after a pitcher of ale."
The man seemed to consider this for a moment. Sydney held her breath, loosening her hold on Nigel in case she needed both of her hands. It was shown to be a good idea a moment later when the big man sneered and reached for Nigel. He pulled him out of Sydney's grasp and dangled him above the floor.
"Syd?" Nigel sounded like a scared little boy.
With a sigh, Sydney made a show of dropping both bags to the floor. She eyed up Nigel's captor, trying to decide where to strike first.
One of the man's companions shouted, "Don't hurt him too bad, Rore. He might be some fun later on tonight."
Sydney curled her lip at the man before turning her attention back to Rore and Nigel. All hints of a sweet, devoted wife were gone--they hadn't felt right on her anyway.
"Just put Nigel down," she said calmly, "and you won't have to get hurt."
This seemed to amuse Rore. At least now Sydney knew something could. "I don't think so."
"Fine." The area was too close for a good head kick, so Sydney decided to go with simplicity. Hauling back, she lashed forward, her fist whizzing by Nigel's head. It struck the large man with a loud whack. He shook his head like an animal, but otherwise her punch seemed to have no effect.
"Lady's got teeth," he said, dropping Nigel.
Before he could reach for Sydney, she lashed out two more times, giving him quick blows to the face. Now that Nigel was sprawled on the floor, she had a little more room, so she kneed Rore in the gut. He gasped and doubled over. Pleased she'd found a weakness, Sydney punched him in the face again, wheeling him back. He staggered a little but didn't fall. Once more, he shook his head, rage coming to his features.
"What are you, a tree?" Sydney asked, shoving her body into his. He stumbled backwards, the table behind him making him totter. He fell, but grabbed Sydney, and the two of them went through the table with a crash. Wood and glass went everywhere, and Sydney felt ale splash over her face, neck, and arms.
There was a roar around them as the room suddenly exploded into happy violence. Out of the corner of her eye, Sydney saw Nigel take their bags and crawl under a table. Relieved he was safe, Sydney put all of her attention into grappling with the giant under her.
He tried to push her away, but Sydney wouldn't let him. She clung on with everything she had, taking every opportunity she could to bash his head into the floor. It took several tries, but she finally managed to knock him out.
She turned and caught Nigel's eye, giving a sharp flick of her head. Her drunken assistant shuffled to her on his hands and knees.
"Come on," she said.
Sydney looked around to see Yorn ducking a punch. He caught her eye and indicated they should go upstairs . Avoiding the melee wasn't easy, especially with Nigel's condition, but they eventually made their way to the stairs. Yorn was on his feet, but Sydney and Nigel weaved through the crowd on their hands and knees.
At the stairs, Sydney rose and helped Nigel to his feet. He swayed but managed to keep them. The three of them climbed the stairs slowly. Sydney kept a firm grip on Nigel the whole time. He had started singing, softly and just slightly off key.
"This is our room here," Yorn said, opening the door. "In this inn, outside rules apply. Since Nigel's a little...inconvenienced, we'll have to divide by two. I'll take first watch. I'll wake you in about five hours."
Sydney accepted this. She wouldn't want to sleep in this place unguarded. Tiredly, she helped Nigel into bed and curled up beside him. She ignored the fact that he threw one arm loosely over her.
"Go to sleep, Nigel."
He mumbled something that sounded like, "Okay, good night", though she couldn't be sure, before starting to emit low, soft snores. Sydney didn't think she'd ever be able to sleep, not with all the cutthroats downstairs. That was actually her last thought before sleep claimed her.
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Sydney woke up in the darkness with Nigel's arm still around her. He was cuddled closer than he had been, with his face buried in her shoulder.
Something had awakened her, and it wasn't Yorn for her turn at watch. She could see him in the chair watching the door with his sword across his knees. His body was tense, as if he had sensed the same thing she had. Sydney listened to the silence, straining for sound.
And then their doorknob rattled. It wasn't very loud, but in the absence of sound, it was like a shout. Yorn sat up straighter, and Sydney reached over the side of the bed for her knife. She had a strange feeling of deja vu, but this time she was sure her opposition would not be a spectre.
At her movement, Nigel murmured in his sleep and tried to pull her closer. Gently, she extricated herself from him and sat up. Yorn glanced her way, and she nodded at him grimly.
Then, the door slowly started to open. Sydney expected to see the man from the brawl downstairs. Instead, it was the shifty-eyed man whose table had been near theirs.
As his eyes met hers, she saw the surprise go over his face. He didn't even see Yorn coming at him from the side. It was a deadly mistake. Before he could even reach for his knife, Yorn's sword was slicing through his side. Sydney winced as he fell lifelessly to the floor.
"Who do you think he was?" she asked.
"I don't know. Slaver, maybe. The whole bar noticed when Antone said how pretty the pair of you were."
"Slavers?"
"Yeah. They're illegal here, but there's a lot of trade over the border." He kicked the body at his feet.
"Well, we'll never know now. You've got to stop killing our enemies before we get answers out of them."
"Sydney, you've got to learn, if you keep people alive, they'll come after you again."
"Listen," She crossed her arms and faced him squarely, "I may be new to this world of yours, but I've been doing what you call adventuring for a long time. My methods may be different than yours, but that doesn't make them any less valid. After all, it was Nigel and I that Rayzi's devinition showed should go after the Staff."
Yorn also crossed his arms and met her glare for glare. "Don't come to me when the next person you spare kills you in your sleep."
She scowled at him, then said, "So, what do we do with him?"
"I'm thinking maybe we should take off. If he's got friends, they'll be looking for him soon."
"What about Nigel?" She glanced at the bed.
"We'll get him out of here somehow."
"All right," Sydney agreed, gathering their things together. "We can't go through the common room."
"You're right. This place stays up all night and sleeps all day. It'll have to be the window."
How were they going to get Nigel out of the window? On his own steam, she hoped.
Sydney went to the bed and knelt. Gently, she shook Nigel's shoulder. "Nigel."
He groaned but didn't wake up. With a sigh, she shook him harder and said more sharply, "Nigel!"
"Syd?" he asked faintly.
"You need to get up, Nigel."
"Wh...?" He blinked his eyes open sleepily. "Is't mornin'?"
"It's time to go."
"Okay." He yawned, still more asleep than awake.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fuzzy."
"You drank a little too much."
Finally, he stirred and rubbed his eyes. "That's what the taste in my mouth is."
"It's either that or that brown slop they fed us for supper. Are you getting up?"
"Yeah. Getting up."
Nigel was always a little slow waking up, especially when he'd been drinking. Now, he slowly sat up, still rubbing his face. His eyes took in the body on the floor and widened.
"We had some company," Sydney explained before he could ask.
"And we may have more shortly if we don't go. Now," Yorn said urgently.
This cut through Nigel's foggy brain, and he jumped to his feet. He stumbled a little, but, with Sydney's help, remained upright. She shoved his pack in his hands and guided him to the window.
"The window?" he asked faintly.
"The window," she confirmed firmly.
"Are we ready?" This was Yorn, who reached the window first.
"Go," Sydney said impatiently.
Without any more encouragement, he ducked through the window. Sydney heard a soft thump as he hit the ground.
"Go," she told Nigel next.
"What if I break my neck?"
"You'll be fine. He'll catch you." At least she hoped he would. "Do you trust me, Nigel?"
"Yes," he said immediately. He never hesitated when she asked him this question.
"Good. You can do this. You've done it before."
Nigel sighed, but stopped arguing as he threw his bag out the window.
"Ow!" Sydney heard Yorn hiss from outside.
Nigel stuck his head out the window. "Sorry."
Sydney had an urge to laugh as she pictured the cocky guide being thumped squarely on the head.
Her friend wriggled clumsily out of the window until he was hanging by his hands. He hung there for a few seconds, his knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip.
"Come on, little guy," Yorn said, "You can do it."
For the first time showing annoyance at Yorn's condescension, Nigel growled softly, "I am not a little guy," before letting go.
Sydney had a sudden irrational fear that Nigel really would break his neck. She hurried over to the window and stuck out her head.
"Nigel?" There was silence. "Nigel?"
"I'm all right, Sydney. Come on down."
Sydney let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Bad guys she could save him from, but a fall--much like a land mine--she was helpless against.
"Look out below," she said, tossing out her own bag. Unlike Nigel, she was careful not to hit the two waiting.
She turned and gracefully lowered herself out of the window just as the doorknob started to rattle again. With a curse, she hurriedly dangled and then let go, landing with a thump beside Nigel.
"They're coming," she hissed, grabbing the men, one with each hand.
Together, the three of them rushed to where they left the horses. They mounted, Nigel a little more awkwardly even than usual, and rode away from the inn.
They hadn't gone far when Yorn stopped and instructed them to dismount. Then, he led them, leading their horses, into the woods. The trees had seemed thick and impassable, but Yorn must have known a trail because they slipped inside.
"You okay?" Sydney whispered to Nigel.
He glanced at her, his face a mere shadow in the darkness under the trees. "Sure."
He didn't really sound sure, so she reached out and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. She saw the glint of his teeth as he smiled in response.
It was a few minutes later when the sound of horses went rushing by on the road. The friends of the man Yorn had killed were definitely after them.
"Yorn," Sydney hissed.
"We're all right," he whispered back. "I doubt a handful of people know of this path."
"I hope you're right." She kept the hand not on her horse's bridle on her sword just in case.
"If we keep going this way, we can bypass the last town altogether. That way, we won't run into our friends if they're up ahead waiting for us. The only thing is that we may have to ditch the horses. I know how much Nigel was starting to enjoy his."
Nigel snorted, and Sydney shook her head. "Ditch them where?"
"I have a friend who lives back here. She likes to help animals and people who wander into the magic infested remains of the Mage Wars. She'd be happy to care for them while we're gone."
"You're sure?"
"I've known Mala a long time."
Sydney heard Nigel curse under his breath.
"Are you all right?"
"I can't see a bloody thing."
He had a point. They hadn't even brought out their light globe, and the moon was having trouble getting through the foliage.
"We should stop for the rest of the night, Yorn. Do you know a place where we can hunker down undetected?"
"There's a fallen tree not far from here that should shelter us and the horses, though I doubt anyone will brave coming in here to search."
"As long as there's room to lie down, I'm game," Nigel said sleepily.
"Your light should be safe, Sydney."
Sydney nodded and took it out, putting it on its dimmest setting. They walked in silence for awhile, the only sound the noise their bodies made passing through the trees.
Even with the light, Sydney could hear Nigel stumbling and knew he was probably feeling lousy from his earlier ale encounter.
"How much further?" she called softly to Yorn.
"Just up ahead here."
"Thank God," she heard Nigel mutter.
Yorn was true to his word, and before they knew it, the three of them were curled up together under the roots of an ancient fallen pine tree. Once more, Sydney thought she'd never get to sleep, and once more she was proven wrong.