Chapter 13…Off to the Ruins

The fire had long burned down to coals and the lamp I had left burning on the nightstand flickered. Soon it would smoke. I had been asleep or close to it but Ammon's movement roused me. He had turned on his side and pushed back the covers. I gave a couple of slow blinks and turned on my side as well to meet his gaze. I couldn't help but smile.

"You look pleased with yourself," he said. His eyes were shadowed by the dim light. I put my arm around his waist in a little surge of possessiveness.

"I am terribly, terribly pleased." I don't know that I was pleased with myself, but pleased with him—oh, yes, indeed I was. A languid kiss sealed that thought. "I guess I'm a woman now."

He snorted.

"Do you feel you've achieved an increase in wisdom and maturity?" he asked and he gave me an ironic look. His hand came to rest lightly on my bare hip.

"Hmm," I said. I couldn't say that I did. Maybe it was like the first time I killed a man. That, too, is supposed to be a rite of passage of sorts. And it changes you, but at the time, it is not so clear how or why. And later, after you have killed again and again, the significance of the first time fades. And yet the significance was there, even if you can no longer hold it or feel it. It was there.

"I feel…" I started and then I sighed. How did I feel? Was I happy? I supposed so. I was definitely contented, satisfied and, well, frankly I was rather sore. I rubbed my chin against his beard and then took another kiss.

"I should go," he said.

"Why?"

"You won't want your maid to find me here." I turned to look at the narrow window. It was still far from dawn.

"It's the middle of the night," I said. "Besides, I'm pretty sure she won't try to get past your darkness spell."

"I dispelled it." He gave me a rather sheepish look, which sat oddly on his harsh features. "That was a mistake," he said. "I did not want another interruption but my action was ill-judged."

"I didn't want another interruption either," I said. I stroked his back. It felt so good to be able to touch him as much as I wished. His skin was deliciously warm.

"Yes, but I called undue attention to us. I apologize for that."

"I don't care," I said.

"Then you haven't thought it through."

"Half the keep already thinks we're sleeping together. Bishop beat the crap out of me for it in the practice yard back before we went to see the dead dragon." I flapped my hand at Ammon's look of displeasure. "He said it was for my own good, ha ha, but the point is that he's got it out of his system. Who else is going to care? Do you think Casavir is going to call you out or something? He won't." Ammon didn't look reassured. "Surely you're not worried about my father. He doesn't care what I do, if he even notices."

"It is not your companions I am concerned about," he said. "It's Lord Nasher's reaction."

"He's a long way away," I said a little doubtfully.

"And you think Sir Nevalle or your Officer Kana can't write a message? Dispatches are sent to Neverwinter twice a ten-day."

"Why would they waste his time with barracks gossip?"

"Do not be naïve, Jess, gossip is the meat that the nobles at court feed upon. I've managed to stay out of Nasher's view so far. I am thought to be dead and because I am still of use, he pretends to believe it so. If my name is publicly brought to Nasher's attention, particularly if our names are linked together—well, that would be awkward, to say the least."

Awkward, as in how long would it take for those at Nasher's court to realize that the mysterious warlock who murdered some of his nobles for their shard was none other than their own former court mage. And he had left a room full of witnesses alive at the Moonstone Mask, of all places. I'd already had enough of courtrooms and trials to last a lifetime and I had been innocent of the crimes for which I'd been accused. Ammon was guilty. Yes, that could become awkward indeed.

"Then to the hells with him and his court too. If Nasher wants his title and his rotten old keep back, he can have them with my compliments," I said. "This place is sucking me dry."

"No." He gripped my shoulder painfully. "We need this keep, Jess. It can't be long before the King of Shadows gathers his undead and moves north. How long do you think Fort Locke or Highcliff can stand against him? It will be up to us to keep him out of Neverwinter."

"Nasher knows that, as well as you do," I said. I smothered a yawn. "Why do you think he gave me this place? He won't abandon the keep or strip it of its defenses." I thought a moment. "He might give the command to Sir Nevalle, though, if he decides we've disgraced him. As far as I'm concerned, that would be wonderful. Let Sir Nevalle handle some of the headaches around here for awhile. He'd be better than me, most likely."

"Have you lost your wits?"

If this was pillow talk, I wasn't thinking much of it.

"Yes," I said. I nuzzled in closer and pressed my lips against his neck. I loved the way he smelled. His scent didn't remind me of anything, it was just—him. "I've lost my wits. Where could they be? They can't have wandered far." After a few moments of exploration, I said, "Oh, look. I think I've found the root of the problem."

His expression was somewhere between a laugh and a frown.

"I knew this would be a mistake," he said. "You are far too young." But his frown didn't make it to his eyes. And he wasn't reaching for his clothes. His tattoos cast a warm light across the bedcovers. I could feel his power awaken and lick across my skin and there was other evidence to suggest that he wasn't exactly wallowing in regret.

"It's not a mistake."

"Time will tell," he said. His hand slid down my hip and he pulled me in closer. "But tell me something, Jess."

"Hmm?" I hated to admit it but I really was losing my wits. At any rate I was having a hard time focusing my thoughts. Like his body, his power pressed against me and where moments before I had been feeling sleepy and sore, now I felt…energized.

"Does that beetle familiar of yours sleep in the bed with you?"

I snickered. It didn't sound like Ammon relished the thought of sharing the pillow with a giant bug.

"Bodo? No, I think he's afraid of getting rolled on and crushed," I said. Speaking of which…oh, my. My wits were wandering further and further but I added a little breathlessly, "But you might want to shake your boots out real well before you put them back on. Bodo likes to burrow into warm enclosed places."

"Don't we all," Ammon murmured.

I was less than thrilled to find myself back on a horse so soon after our return from Nolaloth's Valley, but there I was, riding towards the ruins. Of course, before we even got back on the road, there had been the usual tiresome amount of argument and discussion that passed for planning at Crossroad Keep. Ammon was the main culprit. For one thing, he had been in favor of an immediate departure. You can rest on the road, he'd told me. You're young, you're healthy, and we're in a hurry.

None of the romantic stories I've read or songs I've heard mention how frequently the desire to throttle your lover pops up.

He also had a lot of unnecessary input on who should go with us. The decision was mine, after all, and one that I, with my superior knowledge of my companion's strengths and weaknesses, was surely more capable of making than he was.

He seemed to take it for granted that he would be coming with me. Well—I didn't disagree. That wasn't the problem.

"If I have to travel with that treacherous cur, I will end up killing him," he said of Bishop.

"What makes you so sure he is treacherous?" I didn't argue the cur epithet but I met his glare with one of my own. "He has been with me longer than you have and he hasn't left me yet."

"You're the one who told me you wouldn't sleep with him because you were afraid to be alone with him."

I opened my mouth, ready to blast.

"On second thought," he added, "We could certainly use a scout and skilled hunter. By all means, let him come along." I gave him a look which he returned with suspicious blandness. Luckily I already knew how to reach the ruins of Arvahn and some of the Greycloaks were excellent hunters. I didn't really need to sacrifice Bishop to Ammon's wretched temper.

He didn't want Grobnar to come, either, even though I knew it would break the bard's heart to be left behind again. And I was the one who had to tell him.

"Once we enter the blighted mere, we will need to move quickly. The gnome will only slow us down."

"He can move pretty quickly on those short little legs. You'd be surprised," I said, but I was arguing only as a matter of form.

"And you can guarantee he won't wander off at the inopportune moment?" Of course I couldn't. He was Grobnar, after all. He couldn't help it.

But our biggest argument was about Casavir.

"If something happens to us, Casavir needs to remain here to command the keep," I said.

"If something happens to us, it won't matter who is in command. The keep will be overrun."

"But…"

"You cannot keep him safe here, no matter how much you would like to do so. There is no safety now for any of us."

"Mystra's breath, I'm not trying to keep him safe. He can take care of himself. I just think…"

"Be realistic, Jess. West Harbor has fallen to the King of Shadows. We will likely be facing some of his strongest servants. We need the paladin."

"We'll have Zhjaeve." Ammon gave me a hard look which I returned redoubled. "She is a powerful cleric."

"We are required to bring the githzerai for her knowledge but do not fool yourself, there are times when she will be a liability. I do not deny that she means well," he said a little sourly. "But she has little knowledge of this plane and the dangers we face. She is no warrior. You cannot count on her for your protection. More likely, you will be risking yourself to protect her." Whereas Casavir could be counted on to risk himself, even sacrifice himself, to protect us. And I knew Ammon realized that in his calculating way.

"You and Casavir hate each other."

"Our feelings are irrelevant," he said, looking down his nose at me.

"So you say," I muttered. If he believed that, he knew little about the dynamics of traveling in a small group. I'd traveled with men who didn't get along. It was hellish for everyone.

Also, it fretted me that Elanee had still not returned to the keep. What in the Nine Hells could be taking her so long?

"There is nothing you can do," was Ammon's dispassionate reply. "She will return if she is able. We do not have time to wait."

So in the end, it was Zhjaeve, Ammon, Casavir and I, along with a handful of Greycloaks, who headed out to the Song Portal in the ruins of Arvahn. I cornered Bishop after dinner, the night before we left the keep.

"Can you track down Elanee and find out if she is okay?" I asked. He looked me up and down before deigning to answer.

"I could. Why should I?"

"Oh, I don't know," I said, irritated even though I had certainly expected something of the sort. "Perhaps because, once Zhjaeve and Casavir are gone, she's the only healer anywhere nearby? Accidents happen, you know." I looked him up and down in return, trying to match his sneer. "Even to smart-ass rangers."

"Is that so?" He seemed to find something funny.

"It's your smart ass. Risk it if you choose."

"Make it worth my while." His eyes challenged me.

"I'm already paying you, Bishop. But if you want a little extra, I'll sign a voucher for any reasonable expenses." He took a step closer, still smiling a bit, his gaze fixed on my face.

"I don't want a voucher, Knight-Captain." His hand came forward and I thought he was going to grab me by the front of my tunic. Instead, he toyed with the tie that held it closed. His knuckles brushed against my bare collarbone.

"I left my coin purse in my room." I could see a spark of humor in his eyes and that made me unsure if I should be amused or annoyed.

"Perhaps we should go get it," he said. He ran his fingers up my throat in a casual caress. I pushed his hand away. Annoyed was winning out.

"You must think I'm a fool." He laughed.

"The signs are there," he said.

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"I might, if I feel like it." He walked away.

I knew I'd get no more out of him, but I thought he would do it, out of boredom if for no other reason.

"The countryside is very beautiful." Zhjaeve had pulled her horse up beside mine. Her eyes were sparkling, and her veil whipped in the breeze. I don't know why she continued to wear the thing. It would have driven me mad to have something flapping around my face. I didn't think our Greycloaks would be shocked to see a githzerai's features and the rest of us had seen plenty of unveiled githyanki in our time. What I'd seen of her didn't look so different. The one time I had suggested she take it off, she just shook her head, and the resulting lengthy silence had made me realize I had maybe offended her in some way. It just seemed bizarre to me that she had no problem showing off her bare belly but her face was taboo.

I looked around, pulled out of my own funk by her enthusiasm.

"Yes, it is nice," I said, looking out over the rolling hills. "West Harbor is very different, as you may recall."

"Do you miss your home?"

"I…don't know." The sparkle had gone out of her eyes and now they were grave as they met mine. "It is interesting, being in other places and meeting new people. West Harbor was very small, you know, and I knew everyone there. Even the strangers, like Galen the traveling merchant, weren't really strangers. Sometimes that is bad, knowing everyone and having everyone know you—or thinking that they do."

"It is hard to change in a place like that," she said. I smiled and nodded my head. That was it exactly.

We rode on in silence for awhile. One of the Greycloaks had ridden ahead to find a place for us to camp for the night. There was still no sign of his return but we had hours of daylight yet ahead of us. My rear end cursed the sun and the saddle.

"But you miss the people of your village," Zhjaeve said, a lilt of a question in her voice.

"Yes," I finally said. I looked up into the cloudless blue sky. At the moment, there was not even a bird to be seen. "People may joke about living in a stinking swamp, but it is very alive there. Life is all around you, pressing in—too much sometimes, with all the sounds and the smells and the trees blocking out the sun—but…" I sighed. "I don't know what I'm trying to say," I admitted.

"You fear what we will find there." I sighed again.

"Yes," I said. "I fear it. If the King of Shadows has stolen all the life from the Mere, what will it be now? Elanee tried to warn me but I didn't really understand. I could face simple destruction, like we saw when we were trying to complete the Ritual of Purification."

My head turned back for a moment to where Ammon rode, out of earshot. Him and his damned demons. I knew at some level he deeply resented me for invading his Haven and allowing them to be freed, thus gutting him of so much of his power. He didn't dwell on his anger (as far as I knew) but it was there. Well, I cared for him and the gods knew that I lusted for him but at some level, I also deeply resented him for allowing his demons to devastate my home. And no matter what else happened between us, that would always be there too.

"My people are strong; they know how to recover from disaster," I told Zhjaeve. "But if the life itself is gone from the land, what could be left? How could we recover from that?"