"Is this more than you bargained for yet?
Drop a heart…break a name…
We're going down, down in an earlier round,
But sugar, we're going down swinging."
She had no idea the point at which she'd begun to wake up—all she knew was that she wished she could stop. Sleep was good. Sleep was restorative. Waking up with this demon headache was not. She buried her face into the soft…thing she was laying on, and tried to ignore the waking world. But awareness wouldn't leave her alone.
Finally, Andra was fed up with fighting for rest. She raised her aching head, trying to blink enough so that the blurry scene would come into view. When did she unpack the bedrolls…?
"Hey…look who's back." A weary voice mumbled from the side, and she looked that way. She had to squint against the bright, intruding daylight. Something smelled like food; the wooden bowls were out again, filled with cooked meat. Wait…Drizzt was hunting? She craned her neck, trying to look around. The horse was back, too; he'd obviously gone out to find it. That made sense, because it had all their gear. A campfire was crackling away beside her, and beyond…oh geeze…what happened to him?
The drow lay on his own bedroll, looking far worse than when she'd last seen him. His face was pale—for a drow—and though he was smirking, she could see the exhaustion behind it. He wouldn't even lift his head…oh—oh good grief; his head!
"Drizzt…" she mumbled, crestfallen.
"When last I checked." He was making a deal out of sounding nonchalant, but it wasn't doing him much good with his voice all cracked like that.
Andra grimaced, running a hand over her face. "Why—why didn't you…fix it?" She meant the wound—which he hadn't bandaged. Dried blood stained the pure white of his hair. It seemed an awful desecration.
Drizzt chuckled dryly. "Couldn't see it." That was only half a lie. The truth was he was too tired to move, let alone bother with all that annoying bandaging. "It'll be fine. It's shallow and it stopped bleeding hours ago."
Andra sighed, burying her face into pillow that was sewn into her sleeping bag. She was thinking of the way he'd been yesterday—the monster who'd left her in the cave. His horrible anger… (By the way, why was she hiding in that cave? She didn't remember a lot.) But then there was this Drizzt. He was injured and tired, but he'd taken care of her first. He was trying to make her feel alright even though circumstances clearly were not.
"It looks like a gremlin tried to eat your head," she said at length, voice muffled by the fabric.
Drizzt laughed quietly, closing his eyes. "Like you're any better. Aren't we a sight for sore eyes?"
She glanced down at herself and realized he was right. Her clothes were torn and dirty—bloody in some places. Were she less exhausted, she would've been appalled at the thought of someone else's blood caked onto her clothes, touching her skin. But as she was, she just groaned and let her head fall back to her pillow.
Drizzt brought up a hand to rub his forehead, trying to make the pain subside. It had quieted now to a dull throb, but it was still annoying as heck. And worrying. A little. Was it normal for a headache to last this long? And maybe he should be worried that he couldn't remember that…
Andra suddenly sat up with a gasp, causing Drizzt to look her way. "I remember it…the fight." She grimaced, staring straight ahead as if she could see the scene happening all over again. "What'd I do?"
"Got us the heck outta there..." The drow took in a deep breath and released a sigh. He really didn't feel up to storytelling right now, but—she deserved answers. He pushed himself upward, wincing, to prop himself on one elbow. "Andra. Do you remember the necklace I gave you?" Andra nodded. "It's not just a necklace."
Andra rubbed her eyes, trying to stay awake. She was tired, but obviously she had to hear this. Drizzt continued, "Probably it's time I tell you why you're here. Haven't you wondered?"
"Wul between the multi-planar travel and the kidnapping assaults there wasn't much time for wondering."
Drizzt consented with a crooked smile. "Understandable…Alright. So—necklace. It has origins far removed from the ordinary jeweler's workshop. Obviously you've realized it's power. Andra…that pendant designates you as a chosen cosain."
Andra felt her heart sink a bit. She thought that was just…his name for her. "There are…more?"
He nodded in reply, missing the real question entirely. "Each cosain is assigned a guardian—in your case…me." He wasn't smiling anymore. He just stared into that fire. "So that they can be taught and…prepared."
Andra was suddenly uncomfortable with this conversation. "Mhm. Prepare for what?"
Drizzt took a deep breath. "Remember I told you…that cosain means 'defend.' But it's not because I'm defending you."
Andra's eyes widened in growing realization—and in worry. "But that's…what else can it mean? I mean it's pretty literal…you know."
"Faerun is not peaceful, Andra. We pit armies against everything that fits the stereotype. Orcs, ogres, goblins —drow. Over half of all the so-called 'goodly races' are locked in constant war." He rolled his eyes a little at that. "Despicable, to be sure. But the point is: we're losing."
Andra lay her head down, looking at him sideways. War was supposed to be immensely more horrible in life than it was when you read about it. But…she had Drizzt, right? And the others, once she met them. You could survive anything, all the horror in the world, if you had friends to share the suffering. "What's that got to do with the necklace?"
Drizzt picked up a random leaf and started tearing it into little pieces as he talked. "Bruenor was being overrun from underground. We'd seen peace so many years…Turns out the hoards were waiting. Hiding in their holes for years, just…breeding. So now they're coming at once. Don't know what happened with the drow, but the duergar surely couldn't stop them. They were…" There was far-away pain in his eyes now, as he murmured softly, "There are no more duergar."
Andra's eyes widened. That meant…even Belwar…What!
"At first…First Bruenor wouldn't accept any help. He said it was a matter of time; they could turn it around. They were dwarves and it was their home. He refused to even need help. Until…then there was…"
He blinked several times and swallowed, and Andra was astonished to hear his voice cracking. "Ah, there was…an ambush. Off-guard, outnumbered, all that. Regis wasn't even supposed to be there. Just he…wanted to make sure Bruenor didn't…" He cut himself off with a hollow laugh, shaking his head. "It's so…predictably ironic…"
"You'd think by now it'd be less…Augh, I dunno. Less." Drizzt dropped his eyes, staring blankly into the fire. Andra was at a complete loss. She wanted to say something—condolence, you know… But what the crap! Regis. Regis. Of all people. Nothing was ever supposed to happen to them. But...Drizzt had warned her of that. That's just what he was talking about, wasn't it? "Anything can happen to anyone, even a main character..."
"Well. Bruenor became convinced. Sure does take a lot to get through that head of his…" The leaf he'd been tearing at was crumbled into flakes. He released a deep breath, staring at his empty, still hands. "Hope it was worth it."
Fed up with that old wound, Drizzt quickly moved on. "Bruenor finally sent us to get help—from Cadderly, naturally, him being so wise. His words were that he couldn't hope to hold enough power to help us on his own. But he told us of an ancient race, who'd kept themselves secret from the world for ages, because of their incredible power they had to 'keep out of the wrong hands,' or some such. Dílse, they are called. They're a forest people, so attuned to nature that they're born with physical characteristics of the animals of their environment. Tails, ears, scales, feathers. That sort of thing."
Andra was hardly focused on what he was saying. Belwar and Regis? Who was next? What if…oh wow. What if it was Drizzt? What if it was her? She didn't like this. She wanted an author. She wanted Salvatore, because Salvatore would never allow a Companion of the Hall to die.
"By result of a very long and complicated story, we managed to convince the dílse to further our cause. In exchange for our keeping their existence a secret, they gave us a small sample of the power they hide. The necklaces—or as the dílse call them, cúram.* As a 'secret weapon' or some such."
Dumbly, Andra glanced down at the chain around her neck. Cúram. She picked up the crafted metal pendant, holding it gently in her palm. It was cold now, but she vividly remembered its bright, warm glow. Irresistible. Andra shuddered at the memory. She liked it, but it scared her. She'd been so out of control. It had to be dangerous, right? But then, it was the only reason they were free. She'd saved them with this.
Drizzt shifted, grunting with the pain it brought to his head. Man, he was tired; he had to lie down. He settled his aching head into his cloak/pillow and forced himself to keep going with the story, his voice a croaking monotone. "Each one is conformed specifically to its cosain, who could be anyone—a young man or woman from any race. They have to be young, because they say youth is more recipient to knowledge. Apparently the dílse have never met a teenager before." Andra glared at his ensuing grin. Thought he was real funny, didn't he?
"Somehow—I never asked details—the dílse find and choose who the cosain are, and pair them with a guardian. The guardians are given pendants of our own; we have to use them to find the chosen child." Drizzt reached to his neck and pulled on a chain, holding it up briefly for her to see. A blue gem was set amongst twisted silver vines. "Guardian pendants are all alike, but each cúram is different. To a one they are formed by a dílse Landrunner, who must offer a part of their essence to form the gem. A cosain is bonded profoundly to the Landrunner, though they have never met, and wields the power of the dílse who created their cúram. The power of transformation into the cosain form. Again, different for each."
Andra suddenly cut in. "What's a Landrunner?"
"Mm? Oh...it's a dílse title; it signifies duty and power. I'll tell you more of them sometime, if you wish."
Andra nodded. She wished right now. And she wanted to know what her own 'transformation' looked like, too. But it was just a little more important to find out why she'd turned into a gremlin yesterday. Do not get wet, do not feed after midnight.
Drizzt went on. "Your dílse shared her spirit with the fox, so your form also resembles a fox. You'd like her, I think. She was your brand of crazy. Crazy-looking, as well. Had paws and whiskers and everything." He paused to grin when he heard Andra's quiet laugh.
But his smile couldn't hold. Drizzt turned down his eyes, suddenly unable to look at her. "So...there's your background. You understand now what I said. Back in Iasair?"
Andra could only nod. An instrument of war? That's what she was? Well…That was alright, but…how the heck was someone as gimp as her going to be any help? She doubted she could even survive a war. Let alone protect anyone.
Drizzt shook his head, voice dropping so low she could barely hear. "…I hate this for you."
For several moments, they both just lay staring into the fire, listening to the crackling logs and far-away birdsong resounding from the trees. Andra once again picked up her pendant—her cúram. She ran her fingers over the fan of metal feathers…but then she looked closer, her thinking crease forming between her eyebrows. They weren't feathers at all. Those were three swiping claws. That made sense; her dílse was a fox, not a bird. Her dílse… Andra felt a sense of joy daring to bud inside her. She was chosen. A chosen cosain, selected specially to wield the essence of a dílse Landrunner for a task no one else can complete.
But her newfound elation soon was tempered. Something didn't fit. "Why…why me?"
Drizzt looked up to see her fingering the pendant in her hand. His mouth opened, searching for words, but he came up with nothing. Finally he just sighed and looked away. "I am sorry."
Andra shook her head, quickly correcting, "No—it's not that I don't want it…I'll do it, duh. I really don't know what use I'll be, but… Anyway I meant: how did I get chosen? If I'm not from here. You know?" He nodded, and Andra was relived that he understood her. She wasn't the best at conveying…thoughts. Or words. Or communication.
Drizzt put one arm behind his head and looked up into the sky, apparently thinking. But then he sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "A-Another time, Cosain. Right now I don't…much feel up to it…" His voice trailed off, his arm falling limply at his side. He didn't move for several moments, and Andra noticed his breathing was getting all slow and patterned, like when someone falls asleep.
Andra smiled tiredly. She'd probably exhausted him, making him talk so much. "Sorry," she mumbled, resting her head once more. He had the right idea; sleep sounded wonderful about now. Andra hid her face from the daylight and fell asleep almost immediately.
A long while passed before Drizzt dared opened his eyes. After he made sure she was really asleep, he reluctantly pushed himself up and to his feet. "Ah, magga cammara…" He wished he could lie down and sleep, but he couldn't. There was no ignoring it anymore; he had to tend his wounds. The one on his shoulder was staring to interfere with his arm's ability to move… Drizzt got the bandages from his bag and trudged down to the stream to set about the annoying job. He had yet to even clean the cut on his head.
He came back wearing a ridiculous, annoying bandage-bandanna. His arm was restricted by yet more of the stupid things, running under his left arm and across his chest to over his right shoulder. It was an extremely annoying setup. Drizzt hated getting hurt. Who didn't, right? What bothered him was more the humiliation and annoyance than the actual pain—though that part was hardly enjoyable, either.
He dropped his knapsack on the ground with the other bags and chucked his blood-stained shirt somewhere into the woods. He didn't bother burying it or anything. He had quite enough work for that day without ditch-digging on the list. His headache was worsening already.
He'd returned with a bowl filled with water from the stream. Grabbing a few rags from his knapsack, he sat down beside Andra, who was still asleep. She would be like that for a while, they told him. The first transformation was a dangerous thing, and exhausting for the cosain. It was supposed to take place after at least two weeks of training, when the cosain was strong enough to handle it. Drizzt winced, thinking of what Bruenor was going to say about this. Rather, what he'd yell about it.
Worse yet…He worried about what it would do to her. Was she strong enough?
Drizzt dipped a rag in the bowl and pushed Andra's hair out of her face. He scowled when he saw the huge bruise across her cheek. There was also a cut just above her eye. So help him, if he ever got hold of that Cedric…
He gently pressed the rag to her face, wiping away the blood and dirt. Drizzt had to smile when he saw her hair, which better resembled a rat's-nest apartment complex. That was cavewoman hair. It would only get worse as she slept.
Even though it didn't matter much, Drizzt spent nearly half an hour untangling and picking twigs out of her hair.
….
"She found a replacement.
I'm going through this every time that I'm alone.
I can't take it.
When's she coming back? No one knows.
Open my eyes, and…
It was only just a dream."
As Andra slowly woke up, the first thing she noticed was how annoyingly bright the lighting was. She squinted, moving her arm as if to shield her eyes. But when she tried to bend her elbow, something pinched her sharply and stopped her arm moving.
"…the heck?" she muttered, craning her neck to look down at her arm. Her eyes widened. An IV was taped to the inside of her elbow.
Oh crap no…
Andra lifted her head slowly, wide eyes glancing all around. Modern furniture, empty modern room, a TV bolted to a white concrete wall—panic, growing inside her… It was a hospital room. Worse. It was an Earth hospital room.
'Dream!' Andra's frantic mind buzzed. 'Dream, it's a dream, just like the other one…Wakin up any minute now…'
Andra would've sat bolt upright, but she found—to her horror—that she was strapped down. Actually strapped to the bed! Andra wriggled uselessly against the restraints. Her wrists were held by two loops to the side of the bed, as well as her feet. There was one across her chest, too. Geeze. These medical creeps sure didn't want their patients going anywhere.
"Hey!" Andra screamed at the door, which was ajar slightly. Sounds of people and shoes clacking on tile floors came from outside. "Hey, p-people! Nurse—er whatever…Hey!"
A nurse walked right past her room. Didn't even glance through the half-open door. "Hey! Get back here you glorified candystriper! Nurse!"
Finally, someone appeared in the doorway: the same one who'd just walked past. She stared at her for a minute, then came into the room, going straight for the clipboard on the edge of the bed.
Andra gaped incredulously. What the heck was she doing? "Hey! Lady! Why am I in here? Why am I strapped down? …Why the heck is it so hard to get an answer around this place?"
The nurse was too busy reading the clipboard. Finally she looked up and said, in a really condescending nurse-voice, "Hold on just one minute, okay miss Riley? The doctor will be right with you." Then she fled, clip-clopping across the hard tile floor. Andra realized with astonishment that she was wearing heels.
"Doctor, what!" But the nurse was already out the door. Andra glared furiously, sputtering over words. Hot tears were pooling in her eyes. "Wh…who wears heels in a hospital! Stupid…" she sobbed, letting her head fall back to the cheap plastic-covered pillow.
Minutes later, she heard voices outside. "…hasn't happened in weeks, are you sure?" "…not just another delusion…" "Yes, completely lucid…"
Andra shut her eyes, shoulders bobbing with sobs. She just wanted them to shut up. When was she going to wake up already? What if she didn't? She couldn't be left here alone again! …Drizzt, he'd come and get her. He'd send Guenhwyvar that night and she'd climb out the window—
But then she remembered. The final nail in her coffin. Hospital windows don't open.
"Well, good morning miss Riley!" Someone announced, in a very rehearsed kind of cheery-up doctor voice. "Look who's come down from outer space."
Andra turned her face away, squeezing her eyes shut. "Go away…" she moaned through her teeth.
"…Are you talking to me, or someone else?" The doctor voice asked. Andra thought maybe that had something to do with the delusions they were talking about…but then again, she didn't give a crap.
"Leave me alone!" She shrieked suddenly, thrashing against the bed straps. She yowled like a wildcat, jerking and kicking wildly. She knew it was hopeless. So she fought harder.
"Nurses," the voice sighed, losing its façade to a jaded kind of sadness. "Help me restrain her."
Andra shrieked even louder, and fought even harder, as hands came from all directions to hold her down. She fought mindlessly, sobbing like a hysteric maniac. Mercifully, amongst the turmoil, she felt her mind sinking into deep blackness.
"T-take me, take me away…" Her mind slipped further down to unconsciousness. Andra welcomed that deep unknown place. She tried to sink further down, but maybe she was fighting too hard, because she just couldn't seem to fall…
"What's going on? Out of my way, stupid, let me in! Let me in!"
Andra gasped, snapping her eyes open. She knew that voice. She screamed desperately, trying to see past the doctors. The nurses had someone stopped at the door.
"Let him in! Y-you gotta let him in! You…y-ya hafta…" Andra suddenly felt extremely tired. She was falling again. She dropped her head back onto the pillow and stopped thrashing, her mind clouding up with a dense fog. "N-no…not now…Ahh, please, let him in…"
"Sedatives! Why on Earth would you put her back to sleep? You bunch of retards—Let me in!"
She heard the doctor's voice again, ordering wearily, "C'mon, just—just let him in. She's going under anyway…"
Finally, the hands let her go. By now, her vision was going. Blackness was slowly spreading in front of her eyes.
"Andy! Andy…" A hand grabbed hers, tearing the strap off her wrist. Strong fingers laced between hers, gripping tightly, and Andra knew peace. The blackness didn't go away, but at least it stopped spreading. He'd stopped it. She wanted so badly to thank him, but she seemed to have forgotten which words to use…
"Is…is it you?" she heard her own voice as if from far away. She wished she could open her eyes, see his beautiful pitch-black face.
Chase tried to speak past his tightening throat, choked by both desperation and explosive joy. She…she recognized him…So it seemed. He had to say something, anything. Who knows when he'd get to talk to her again? "Y-yeah…Andy. Yeah, it's me." His voice was breaking. He didn't care right now, but he was crying again.
Andra managed to open her eyes just long enough to catch a glimpse of his long, light hair. She tried her best to smile. But the darkness was coming back. "W-will you be here…when I wake up?"
Chase fought back the urge to cry. He wanted to scream. But what he needed now was talk to her. "When…you wake up. Of course I will, Andy. I'll be right here. I'll wait, I'll fight doctors…anything."
Andra grinned tiredly, closing her eyes. He was wonderful. No matter how terrifying he could get, no matter how angry at times...he was noble. Andra felt herself falling deeper into sleep. With the last of her consciousness, she forced herself to find one last thing to say. "Th-thank you…
…Drizzt."
Chase froze. The light drained from his face, horror taking its place. He couldn't believe this was happening again. All along…all this time it had been just another delusion. He was stupid to think it would be different this time. She'd been talking to… to him, all this time. Her happiness, her peace, her strength in his presence—all had come from her own dreams. Not from him. He could never hope make her as happy as Drizzt could.
He wished it was a real person—so he could strangle the guy. Drizzt…he hated that evil name...
Chase squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his teeth. She'd never seen him. Sobs racked his hollow body, tears flowing freely until they left him with nothing. He couldn't even have hope anymore.
He gripped her hand tighter, pressing her limp fingers to his forehead. Hopeless. She wouldn't feel it.
Chase slowly lowered Andra's hand to her side. He pulled his fingers from hers and stood up straight. He slowly turned away, covering his eyes with one hand as he stumbled for the door. Somebody—the doctor, maybe—took him by the shoulder and guided him gently away.
He couldn't be there when she woke up.
….
"-And I find it kind of funny—I find it kind of sad.
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.
-I find it hard to tell you—I find it hard to take.
When people run in circles, it's a very, very
-Mad world."
"Andra." A voice murmured faintly, penetrating her dreamless sleep. Andra wasn't even sure she'd heard it. There was no caring anyway. She was sleeping.
"Andra, you must waken."
She was being pulled from her peaceful void. Now she was aware enough to feel starch-laden sheets and a weird crinkly pillow. Or was it a sleeping bag on the forest floor? …Ugh. Who cared.
"You can't sleep forever, Cosain." A hand shook her by the shoulder. "Andra? …Stop that; it's worrisome." Oh, was he worried? About her? That may be worth seeing.
Andra stirred, turning her head away from her pillow so she could at least breathe. She could hear a fire…That was a good sign. She opened her eyes and realized with dulled elation that she was in Faerun. Drizzt beside her, there when she woke…just like he'd promised. It had all been just a dream.
"Mmf…Drizzt," she groaned, lifting her head to look at him through fuzzy eyes. She did her best to glare, but in the face of her relief and joy at seeing him, it just couldn't hold. "You…you're a fan of inneruptin sleep, huh?"
The drow smiled—laughed, even—and Andra couldn't help but return it. "If I hadn't interrupted you'd have gone into hibernation. You've been asleep since yesterday's noon."
"Noon…" Andra mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "I slept that long?"
"You did."
Andra shook her head, staring at the ground. "I wish…you'd have woke me up sooner."
The drow smiled lightly. "I am sorry. I thought to give you rest, as we must start traveling again."
Andy exaggerated a groan, falling back to her sleeping bag dramatically. She threw one arm over her eyes, putting on a ridiculous act. "Ohh, must we?"
"Yep," Drizzt laughed, reaching down to grab her hand. She whined as he pulled her to her feet. "It'll do little good getting us where we're going if we just stay put. Anyway. I'd like to get us into some better company than that of bandits." Tossing her a wink, he walked off to retrieve the horse from the stream where he'd tied it.
Left alone, Andra stared after him. The dream was fast fading from her memory, but the uneasy feeling she had didn't follow. Why did she keep dreaming about hospitals? She understood dreams about Earth, and how Drizzt popped up out of nowhere, but…why a hospital? And…Drizzt had been different that time. She couldn't tell exactly how.
Just then the drow reappeared, leading the horse. For the first time, Andra noticed his head was bandaged up. She winced, feeling more than a little guilt for it. "Where to now?" she asked, trying to ignore it.
"We go to the farming town Lomund, there to join Wulfgar and Cattie-brie. It shall be our last large city before reaching the Hall."
Andy's face brightened. "We're meeting the others?"
Drizzt nodded. "And we'd better be quick about it. Catt's like to smack me into next week if I keep her waiting any longer." Picturing that scene, Andra grinned deviously.
"I've packed everything except your bag," he told her, busy putting the horse's reigns on. "You'll no doubt want to change clothes."
Andy glanced down at herself and her jaw dropped. Her shirt was bloodstained. Andra grimaced, suddenly finding it hard to catch her breath. She snatched up her bag and ran out of camp the way he'd just come from.
Drizzt pretended not to notice, but when she was gone, he shook his head with a mirthless smile. She'd have to get used to that kind of thing. Just another grand adventure he'd force her into, he supposed. Drizzt yanked hard on the leather strap he'd been fiddling with, belting down his bedroll to the saddle.
Stupid dílse. From the time he'd heard of the great cosain plan, he'd been against it. Just what they needed in this world—more reason to ruin the youth, to harden pure mithral souls in the forge-fires of war. And he was to be a blacksmith. A cruel twist of irony indeed, that he would become such a vital part of these awful schemes. He had to be Llolth-loved for such crimes.
Drizzt hadn't realized how tight he was pulling on that strap until it started grinding into his fingers. He let go with a hiss, shaking off his hand. "Magga cammara," he muttered, sticking his rope-burned finger in his mouth. Stupid leather…
A muffled laugh from the side caught his attention. He looked up to see Andra, dressed in the clothes he'd bought in Iasair. She was staring at him, biting her knuckles as she tried not to laugh.
Drizzt finally realized enough to take his finger out of his mouth. "Shut up…" he muttered sourly, turning back to the horse. Andra burst out laughing behind him.
….
The miles are getting longer, it seems,
The closer I get to you.
I've not always been the best man or friend for you.
But your love remains true.
And I don't know why.
You always seem to give me another try.
The road out of forest seemed to go on forever. Drizzt felt the anxiety from yesterday's fiasco returning. He found himself looking often over his shoulder, and eagerly awaiting each bend in the road. If he knew Cedric at all—and he knew the old streettear well—he knew of the old man's dogged stubbornness. And he was a loon. The last person Drizzt wanted chasing him was a crazy one.
He kicked the horse to a faster speed but still kept it pretty slow. As much as he wanted to be out of these woods, he didn't want to ride too hard; he was worried about Andra. She'd fallen asleep almost immediately after they set out, but it was like she kept switching between awake and asleep. She was sleeping now, leaning back against him with her head on his shoulder. He reached around her to hold the reins and keep her from falling out of the saddle.
As much as Drizzt couldn't wait to be out of these bandit-infested woods, he couldn't ignore a small measure of dread. Once they left the forest it was only a couple hours' ride to the next town, and there he'd have to explain to Cattie-Brie and Wulfgar why Andra was already wearing her cúram. And tell them about the ambush—which, doubtless, will somehow end up to be his fault. "Magga cammara, Catt'll kill me…" He could already feel the wood of her giant bow cracking against the back of his head.
"Andra," he groaned, rolling up his eyes to the sky. "You better not be seriously hurt or you'll find yourself in need of a new guardian."
"Thanks…Your concern is overwhelming."
Drizzt jumped a little at Andra's mumbled voice. "What…You're supposed to be asleep," he grumbled, pulling the hood of her cloak down over her eyes. "Poser."
Andra pushed the hood back with an almost-laugh. "You don't know what poser means."
"Fine, oh wise one. School me in the ways of Earth vernacular." Andra didn't reply for a while, until he tilted her head back to see if she was asleep again. She was. But what vexed him more was how warm her forehead felt under his hand.
A new dose of anxiety gnawing at his mind, Drizzt took up the reigns and urged the horse faster.
When noon came, he didn't bother stopping; they ate on the road. Andra couldn't be bothered to stay awake for more than ten minutes to eat, then she was out like a light again. He didn't like it. On top of the worry, it was too quiet. It seemed like he should be grateful for the silence, though, because it allowed him to listen for ambushers.
He had no idea what had become of their ambushers. Should they decide to attack once more, he and Andra were incredibly vulnerable. Drizzt hated to think it, but he knew that he was outmatched. That much had been proven when they'd tied him down like a wild sow. But far worse than the blow to his pride were the injuries to his body. His head hadn't stopped throbbing all day and the wound at his shoulder wasn't behaving any better.
All the more reason to get the heck outta Dodge.
After five long hours, wherein Drizzt stopped only once to rest and change his bandages, the trail began to slowly extract itself from the forest's grasping tendrils. It took forever, but finally, the last tree was falling into the distance behind, and Drizzt felt as if a gnawing shadow perched on his shoulder had suddenly flown away. Only a few hours of open road and they would be safe in the company of strong comrades. His anxiety at facing Catt and Wulfgar came in second to a sore longing for their companionship.
Dusk was settling when they finally reached the large farming town of Lomund. Drizzt used the magical mask to transform back into Kandren Dulra before they even got close. When they'd passed the outskirts of farms and crop-lands, they reached the inner part of the city, where there was actually someone out there awaiting them. Apparently a local tavernmaster had sent one of his stableboys to greet the traveling pair, and to lead them to the inn and their waiting companions.
Drizzt was all too happy to oblige. The stablehand led them through the quiet town and to a decent-looking inn. This one was only an inn, with no tavern adjoined. It did have its own stables. Humble though it may be, Lomund and its structures were not lacking in funds.
Drizzt dismounted first, pulling Andra down with some help from the stablehand. She wasn't exactly asleep, but she was far from lucid. He feared it was less from exhaustion and more from that fever of hers. That wasn't good…He'd hoped it wouldn't even have a chance to develop. And it seemed as if it had no cause—unless it was an effect of her too-early first transformation.
Drizzt carried her bridal-style, gritting his teeth against the pain it caused his shoulder. His head, as well, protested at the lifting of heavy loads. He'd better not have to climb any stairs… He carried Andra out of the stables, eager to get her dead weight into a freakin bed. When Drizzt came into the actual inn, he was more than a bit unprepared for what he found.
She dominated the room, hands on her hips, beautiful brown eyes narrowed in a glare that could move the very mountains she was raised under. The way she tilted down her head, with her deep auburn hair shadowing her face, told her she was furious. She'd been waiting for him here; obviously he'd been seen by someone and they sent word back to the inn… Drizzt stood before her, injured and days late, his cosain limp in his arms, and knew he was doomed.
At the sight of them both, Cattie-brie's glare shifted immediately from expectance to outrage and shock. "What did you do!" she shrieked, coming forward and slamming her fists on the air. Drizzt flinched and withdrew from the livid terror of the woman. Andra had awakened—a good thing too, because he had to put her down as Catt shoved him against the wall. Andy stumbled away with a bewildered squeak, holding her fists to her heart in baffled confusion.
"Not my fault! Wasn't my fault!" Drizzt sputtered frantically, more concerned with his attacker as Catt put her scowling face right up next to his, demanding answers.
"Bah! You thoughtless, reckless little tar-faced fairy! What in heaven's name did you to do her—and yourself!"
"Catt," came a voice from behind. Andy looked to the side, still yet trying to clear the sleep from her mind, and saw the giant blonde-headed man entering the room. He leaned against the doorjamb and grinned widely. "Try and avoid the black insults. He's a wood elf, remember?"
"Wulf!" Drizzt twisted away from the furious woman, darting across the room to duck behind the large man and peek over his shoulder. "Please! She'll murder me, Wulfgar!"
Wulfgar threw back his head and laughed deeply. "Sorry, my friend," he chuckled, stepping aside and further into the room. Catt was fuming, her glare throwing flames at Drizzt from across the room. "I'd rather stay clear of that arrow's path."
Drizzt winced with a quiet groan as Cattie-Brie stalked towards him again. "I told you, Drizzt. Come straight here I said! Well there went that out the window. The two extra days of worry I could have tolerated—if you'd only come back safe and sound! Your head, Drizzt…"
"Catt," he murmured quietly. "Please, just wait a moment. Listen to me, Cattie—"
"Why! Do you ever do the same?" Cattie-Brie growled and threw up her hands to the sky as she turned away. She laid one arm across her waist and covered her eyes with the other hand. A low sigh escaped her lips. Why did he always have to do this to her? Catt was by no means afraid of fighting, or of Drizzt getting into trouble. It was only when he was stupid enough to get himself hurt that she had a problem.
"I told you, Drizzt, I always tell you…Heaven only knows why I keep telling you things!"
"Catt…" Drizzt reached for her shoulder, but she only batted his hand away. He opened his mouth to say something more, but a quiet voice from the side suddenly spoke up and said it for him.
"It wasn't his fault…"
All eyes turned to the source of the tiny voice. Andra glanced timidly from one face to the other. Their silence made her extremely nervous. Seems Salvatore had changed more characters than just Drizzt… Suddenly she felt very alone in a room of strangers. That is, until she saw Drizzt's face, noting a distinct amount of surprise there.
Now that she'd opened her mouth, she had no choice but to keep talking. "It was…Th-they were bandits. They ambushed us. It wasn't Drizzt's fault..." Catt looked more just surprised, but a tiny smile of wonder had found its way onto Drizzt's face.
After another moment of unbearable silence, Wulfgar rolled his eyes at both his friends. "Look now, you two've scared the poor girl," he said, coming over to Andra. The barbarian smiled at her comfortingly, trying to thaw her out. She looked like a scared faun with those giant eyes.
Andra watched him intently, staring with wonder into his sparkling blue eyes. She had to tilt her head back a little to even meet his eyes; he was so tall. "You'll have to ignore them. Cattie-Brie was only worried; we've been waiting for you for a long time." His voice was warm and youthful, not at all as she'd imagined it from the books.
She glanced from him to Drizzt and back again. "Um…kay…" Wow. Clever answer. In her defense, though, clever thinking wasn't that easy. She had been very abruptly yanked out of a very deep sleep. And then the thought of sleep triggered a wide yawn. She didn't know it, but she was swaying on her feet.
Wulfgar noticed. He put a steadying arm around her shoulders, which for whatever reason, she didn't find awkward at all. "Good grief, Drizzt," he scolded over his shoulder. "Haven't you given her any rest?"
Drizzt went suddenly stone-cold, and though he gave a laugh, it was hard and bitter. "Sure. Let's all assume it was my fault. It has nothing to do with that demon stone you all bade me hang around her neck."
This was greeted by blank shock. Drizzt looked between the others, suddenly realizing the trouble he'd put himself in. "I—I mean…ah…"
"She's wearing it?" Cattie-Brie's voice was void of anger, having room only for astonishment. Wulfgar wore a similar expression.
"…What?" Andra looked to Wulfgar, utterly confused. "The necklace? I mean uh…the…cúram thingy…" Whatever her next words would have been, they faded into a quiet groan as she suddenly lost her balance and staggered aside.
Wulfgar caught her again as her knees buckled beneath her. She barely even felt him sweeping her into his giant arms. The minute her head could rest on his broad shoulder, she was out like a light. Surprised, Wulfgar paused for just a moment. How easily the girl depended on him.
He turned around, looking to the others. Cattie-Brie was looking down and away, while Drizzt's suddenly concerned eyes were locked on Andra. Wulfgar shook his head, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Such dramatics… "Alright," he sighed, heading for the doorway and the stairs beyond. "I vote: we talk in the morning. When we're rested, rational, and less like to bash each other's heads in."
At that he left, Andra in his arms. He carried her up the stairs and to a reserved room right between his and Drizzt's. Shouldering open the door, he crossed the dark room, gently laying the girl on the soft bed. She was so fragile, it seemed now. He pulled a blanket over her and, pausing for a moment, took another long glance at her. She did look exactly like the original. That freakish "portal" had done its work splendidly. An exact duplicate of her Earth body. Wulfgar, who had never been on friendly terms with strange magics, couldn't help but cringe.
Would it hold? He wondered. He didn't trust that shady wizard clan who'd invented the portal in the first place. But it had worked for seven other cosain. Except—Andra had transformed early. It taxed the spirit sorely, and hers was already in a constant effort to hold to this new body. Strange magics. Unstable. He didn't like it.
Noticing something, Wulfgar couldn't help but chuckle quietly. Her hair had fallen into her open mouth. Forgetting his fearful doubts for now, he reached down to pull her hair away from her face. In the process, his fingers brushed across her forehead. He paused. Warily, he pressed his fingers to her forehead again. "Fever…" An angry sigh escaped him. Drizzt surely had some explaining to do. Wulfgar left the girl to sleep, pausing one last time at the doorway to cast a worried glance over his shoulder. He shook his head and left, closing the door gently.
….
Drizzt stared after them, hesitating. It suddenly seemed important he follow, to see for sure that Andra was put safely into a bed where she might rest peacefully. But Wulfgar's arms were strong, and his hands gentle. Besides…Drizzt had no desire to carry her again.
The drow turned to Cattie-Brie, dreading the cold silence he was sure to endure. But he was surprised instead to meet with a sudden embrace, as she gently wrapped her arms around him. Not about the question his good fortune, Drizzt returned the hug.
"Bandits," she scoffed quietly. "Ordinary bandit morons beat the likes of you?"
Drizzt was relieved enough to ignore her unintentional stab at his sense of honor. It was intended more as a compliment, he knew. Drizzt laughed softly in reply, burying his face into her silken brown hair. "No ordinary bandits. Cedric was heading them."
Catt glanced up at him in surprise. "Runsin? He followed you?"
"Yes. They caught him as a prisoner on the road. But apparently he put that silver streettear tongue of his to good use." Here, Drizzt frowned. "And they cheated. They used sleeping poison."
"How'd they get their hands on that?"
He shook his head. "I don't know…Black market? As long as it never happens again, I don't care."
Cattie-Brie was silent for a moment. She leaned against his chest, nuzzling her head under his chin. Behind his shoulders, her hands felt more bandages under his clothing. Catt closed her eyes. "Ever I fear for you, Drizzt. You know this. Don't you?"
After a short pause, she heard his smooth voice reply. "…I know."
Then why do you not change? Catt somehow couldn't force herself to speak the words aloud. After a short while she pulled away, sighing wearily. "It's late. You're hurt and tired; I would have you asleep and in bed."
Drizzt smirked wryly, raising an eyebrow. "Why, Catt. You must at least buy me dinner first."
Catt shook her head and snorted derisively. But she didn't laugh, as was Drizzt's intention. "Your own bed."
Drizzt's smile fell as she walked past him. He'd only intended to lighten the mood, but it seemed he'd made it worse. As Catt ascended the stairs, he heard her call lightly, "We're not married yet, after all!"
Left alone, Drizzt groaned tiredly and pressed his palms into his eyes. Both of them knew it was all in jest. Drizzt would never do anything of the sort towards her, outside matrimony and her own free will. She hinted at wanting a married life, yet…magga cammara. Marriage. Marriage was a stormcloud, looming dark over the dizzied heads of free, youthful lovers. That's how he'd come to view it.
A necessary storm? He feared this. But surely she deserved… Well. In Drizzt's eyes, Cattie-Brie deserved the world and all its shining stars.
Both Drizzt and Cattie-Brie now knew of each other's feelings—and had for months now. Both knew, too, that there was no such betrothal between them.
…It was all in jest, after all.
Alright—enough. It was late. His head was killing him. And those little black spots on the fringes of his vision couldn't be a good sign. This crap could wait until morning. It was all he could do to drag himself up the stairs, find his room, and fall into bed. He was pretty sure he was out before his head hit the pillow.
….
"I look ahead to all the plans that we made
And the dreams that we had.
I'm in a world that tries to take them away—
Oh, but I'm taking them back."
It should have been Ray.
Cedric's mind swirled with angry thoughts, but this was the predominant one: It should have been Ray. He knew now why the elf had taken the cúram. And the skinny-headed idiot was a fool for letting his girl wear it so soon. Not only was it like to kill the kid, but they'd shown their power to him—a power that Cedric would obviously recognize. A power that should have been Raylin's. And that girl…no matter how much logic told him it wasn't her fault, his passionate angry grief could only focus on her despicable thievery. She'd stolen Raylin's cúram.
She'd stolen his daughter's destiny.
"Ced!" someone behind him called, from the camp a good distance away. "We need yer help with the horses. If you're gonna stay you're gonna work like the rest of us!" It was probably Krandal, one of the more authoritative bandits of the group. As much as he'd like to ignore the moron, he had to keep their good favor. Cedric stood from the rock he'd been sitting on and trudged back to the camp. He picked up a saddle and started strapping it to its horse.
Cedric was not above these menial tasks. The bandits' trust was fleeting, and they wouldn't allow him to "help" them if he didn't seem like one of them. The name was part of that guise—they all thought he was just Ced. On the trail, he'd managed to convince them that, since he was after the same ones they were, it would be best to work together. They'd only went along because time was short and their quarry was getting away. But they'd warmed up to him a great deal when he'd helped them ambush the elf and his girl. And they liked him a heck of a lot more when provided sleeping poison to coat their crossbow bolts.
And they'd almost caught them. He had to keep these morons around, because last time they'd almost caught them, and it was only because of the bandits' help. Strength in numbers and all.
Cedric saddled two more horses and packed up some gear, making sure to pull more than his share of weight. Hard-working men admired hard-working men. They were by no means real men, but the bandits were indeed hard-working. He needed them to see strength in him if he hoped to continue his secret leadership.
The work was done quickly, and Cedric mounted his original brown stallion—the same horse the elf had abandoned in the thieves' plaza. Someone at the front of the line gave a shout, and one by one, the horses charged forward.
Cedric rode at the front, starting out slightly behind Krandal's horse, but surreptitiously taking the lead.
* Cúram is the Gaelic word for "duty" or "responsibility."
*A/N: Ok, so maybe this one was rushed and pretty long, but I got into it.^^ Not much happens, but I'm setting it up for next time. lol what'd you expect considering I published so soon? ;) Also! I must stress how much I adore reviews. …Please? The plot bunnies need feedback or they'll beat me with keyboards!
*Lyric headings (in order): "Sugar We're Going Down Swinging" by Fall Out Boy, "Just A Dream" by Nelly, "Mad World" by Gary Jules, "I'm Going Home" by Daughtry and "It's not My Time" by Three Doors Down. I had trouble fitting lyrics to this chapter…but I like those songs. *shrug*