10. In Which We Try to Relax but Are Rudely Interrupted
Rudely built one-room huts with half the roof off may not be perfect to live in, but for people hiding from killer storms they're quite comfortable. We collapsed in the driest corner; all except Kazul, who didn't fit and merely thrust her head in. Fortunately dragons are covered in thick scales that repelled both water and hailstones with equal ease.
No one, not even the Butterfly spoke as we relaxed, water pouring off every limb. The hut was far from silent, though. Outside thunder roared and through the many holes in the roof I could see the black sky flash with lightning. Rain flooded onto the hut's dirt floor, and it was only thanks to the uneven ground that we weren't drowned.
I began to lick off the cold rainwater caught in my fur and was pleased when my tortoiseshell coat resumed its usual spiky fluff instead of sticking wetly to my skin... unbearable.
"Where's that big bird thing?" Shiara asked abruptly.
The roc! I had completely forgotten about it in the excitement of the storm.
"Probably the spell wore off and it's flown away."
"I hope so; it was rather frightening," commented Glitter.
If you've been paying attention you should remember that the taming charm is only effective for twenty-four hours. You might even have realized that twenty-four hours had not yet passed since the roc devoured the spelled meat. However, because of the animal's size the potion could easily have not lasted that long. Or so we assumed.
The tempest showed no sign of slowing, so we settled in and ate lunch. Though the food was slightly soggy (bottomless food bags don't protect against drenching rains), our recent ordeals had sharpened our appetites and we ate until we could hold no more. At least I did; I'm normally not one to stuff myself, but I'll admit under tough conditions food can be an ideal stress-reliever.
Once everyone was dry and fed conversation started up again. I won't bore you with details, mainly more planning with the occasional pointless comment from Tyra and long stories from Olemer of how many of these infamous northern storms he'd survived.
I myself, resisting the urge to nap, began to study the surroundings and noticed some things I'd missed earlier. Pinned to the walls were the remains of large pieces of parchment--maps. A small rotting wooden table in one corner held a jumble of other papers, a bedraggled quill, and an inch of yellowish-grey dust. The hut appeared to be the former abode of a scholar. A scholar in the midst of a vast plain. Things were getting interesting.
Morwen spotted the table too and walked over to it, sidestepping puddles and waterfalls from the roof.
"What are they?" Brandel inquired.
"They appear to be poems of some sort--" she held a page up to the minimal light sneaking its way through the thick clouds. "Wait, songs, they're songs."
Olemer got up and read over Morwen's shoulder.
"'Swords rang and blood flowed,
And they crushed their foe--
So the victory was won
At the greatest battle of the age.'
A ballad!" he exclaimed with satisfaction. "Just like the ones they would sing in my father's hall..." Olemer gazed out at the rain, lost in memories of his home.
"It's your hall now," Daystar reminded him.
"Yes, I suppose so... I wonder if our adventure will ever be put into song—I can see it now, a minstrel telling the tale of the eight brave travelers and their noble quest..." his voice trailed off dreamily.
But as I thought of the "Royal Stick" and "Paradise Puddle" my hopes were less sanguine.
I turned my attention to the stained maps pinned to the crumbling walls. They were marked with forests, mountains, plains, and oceans. In Mendanbar's castle there was a quiet little room I liked to sit in full of dusty maps by which I had learned much of the surrounding geography; but I could tell these maps showed no place I'd learned of.
"What do you make of these?" I asked the room in general.
"Oh, are they--"
"I wasn't asking you!" I snapped at Olemer.
Brandel scrutinized the pieces of parchment. "It looks familiar, but I can't think where it is... certainly not this continent."
"Look!" Olemer had returned to the table. "This ballad's about Janar! Maybe it'll help us!"
By this time everyone was crowded around the small table, flipping through the songs.
Suddenly there was a CRACK! and a flash and part of the remaining roof splintered apart. Lightning had hit the hut. Before we could do anything the splinters caught fire, and despite the pouring rain the fire spread to the walls. those, being much drier than the roof, started blazing up beautifully. Well, beautifully unless you happened to be in the hut--then it was horrifying.
"Gather the papers!" Daystar shouted and proceeded to grab an armload. The others followed suit and shoved papers under their cloaks. Then we rushed back out into the cold, wet rain. And I had just gotten dry!
For a minute we gazed mournfully at the smoldering remains of our shelter. And the storm cleared. Suddenly. By this time thoroughly befuddled we continued our journey, but hadn't walked five minutes when a screech reached our ears.
No, it never ends.
A/N: JustWriter2-Thanks for pointing that out about transporting dragons; I'd forgotten. (story edited; the problem is no longer a problem)
About Ophelia being too straightforward... what do you mean? I read all the parts of the series where she plays a role and I thought my portrayal was fine. But if you can suggest an improvement, please tell me. As for being too self-centered to explain things, you're probably right, but I couldn't very well write a story without explaining stuff and expect my readers to follow.