Chapter 3: A New Day: Day 2

Jeral awoke to the sounds of birds singing and sunlight streaming into his eyes. His shoulder throbbed from his wound and his back and neck felt even worse from spending the night in a tree. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around. To his chagrin and embarrassment he realized he was sleeping in a tree not a stone's throw from the Coastal Way, the only road leading from Candlekeep to the rest of the realm.

Gorion had wanted to avoid the road last night and had set off cross country saying it would be safer.

Guess he was wrong about that, Jeral mused.

Jeral heard a voice coming down the road and froze. Had the armored man and his female companion found him? Would he die today, treed like a squirrel?

The voice started singing a bawdy drinking song. Jeral instantly recognized his sister's voice and realized that is was Imoen singing a song she had picked up while tending bar for Winthrop back in Candlekeep's only tavern.

Jeral smiled at the thought of his sister and allowed himself to relax and enjoy her voice as she approached. Imoen had an incredible singing voice and today she was in excellent form. She was singing and skipping along the road. As she came into view Jeral could tell that she was planning on staying away from Candlekeep for some time. She had on traveling clothes and was carrying a short bow. She stopped walking and stepped off the road a ways. She clearly had a rock or something in her shoe and wanted to remove it.

Imoen had never embraced sensible footwear despite her chosen vocation and continued the trend today. She was wearing thigh high red boots with a heel. She always thought they made her look older while Jeral teased that they made her walk funny. She had selected the very tree Jeral was in to lean against as she took off her boot.

Smiling, Jeral readied himself to drop down from the tree and scare her.

I can jump out of this tree and land like a cat. She is going to soil herself from fright.

Unfortunately Jeral forgot to consider the effects of his wound, fatigue and stiffness from spending the night in a tree. He rolled off the limb, realized that he had no control over his stiff arms and legs, and promptly fell onto the ground, landing heavily like a sack of potatoes.

"Ooof"

"Jeral is that you?"

"Yes it's me, what are you doing out here Imoen?"

"Looking for you O graceful and mighty warrior."

As Jeral painfully hauled himself to his feet Imoen gasped when she saw his shoulder.

"What happened to your shoulder? Where is Gorion? What is going on?"

Jeral took a deep breath and long pause before he replied.

"Dead."

"What? Gorion is dead? Impossible? No one could kill that tough old codger. What happened? Who did that to your shoulder? We need to go back to Candlekeep and tell the Watchers. They will help you, they have to help you."

"Slow down Im. One thing at a time. Gorion is dead, I watched him die. He died protecting me from some huge armored killer and his friends. For some reason this scary armored giant wanted to kill me and he killed Gorion to get to me. As for the Watchers they may or may not be able to help. I am sure the man who is after me is watching Candlekeep. We would never get back there alive. And even if we did get back there we have no valuable tome to gain entry. You know the rules of Candlekeep. I am on my own."

"Hardly brother. I am here and I am not going anywhere. I am not scared of any big ole killer." With that she hugged him fiercely and he felt a wave of emotions come over him. He felt safety, love, and relief, and even shame for running away from Gorion's killer.

As they continued the hug he experienced a new sensation as well, as he felt the swell of her firm breasts press up against his chest. He abruptly broke the hug and stared awkwardly at the ground.

"Thanks, I needed that. We need to go bury Gorion. Follow me."

They walked in silence. It took them almost four hours to walk back to the scene of the battle. Jeral was impressed that he was able to run and cover so many miles so quickly.

I guess all that training paid off in at least one way. I can run away with the best of them, Jeral thought to himself.

By early afternoon they had reached the site of the battle. The ogres lay where they had been killed, as did Gorion. Dead he looked older and smaller than he had in life. Jeral wondered not for the first time how old Gorion really was.

Imoen stifled back a sob, "I can't believe he is dead. Isn't there anything we can do? Could the clerics of Oghma raise him from the dead?"

"I don't think so. All we can do it take anything useful for ourselves, bury the body, and try and get someplace safe."

Jeral stripped to the waist, took a dagger from his belt and started digging. He refused Imoen's offer of assistance saying that he needed to do this himself. He also consistently refused to drink one of the few potions of healing she had pilfered from the priests before she left Candlekeep. He welcomed the pain and wanted to keep the scar as a memory of his last time together with Gorion.

By sunset there was a proper grave. Imoen busied herself by making a campfire and hunting for some dinner. By the time Jeral had finished she had a nice pair of rabbits roasting on spits over the fire.

He had already emptied Gorion's pockets and cleaned him up as much as possible. He gently placed the body in the grave. Gorion carried some coins, a dagger, and a few letters that Jeral would read once there was time. Wrapped in his cloak with his staff over his chest he looked very peaceful and the gaping wound in his chest was not visible. As Jeral stood over the grave Imoen joined him. Standing side by side they wordlessly said their goodbyes.

As Jeral knelt down to push the dirt back into the whole he raised his head to the sky and swore to any Gods that were listening that Gorion would be avenged. Imoen searched the corpses of the Ogres and found some gold coins and also located Jeral's two throwing knives.

Shaking the coin purse Imoen smiled, "at least we have enough money for a tavern and food now. If we are careful these funds can last for some time."

The next morning the pair were off at first light. They were both sore and cold from a night spent on the ground.

"If we are going to be spending much time out of doors in the future we will need the appropriate equipment."

"I could not agree more Im."

Deciding that speed was more important than stealth they worked their way back to the roadway and headed east, away from Candlekeep. They both walked swiftly and Jeral struggled to match Imoen's grace and fluidity of movement. Despite her ridiculous footwear she was incredibly coordinated and made very good time on the road.

After a half day of walking they had come across only two other travelers.

One was an obese, chatty self proclaimed hermit named Kolssed.

Following closely on his heels was a cheerful, elderly wizard who seemed to know everything, yet said nothing, about Jeral's plight.

Around yet another bend in the road they were startled out of their silence by an ear splitting screeching noise. Coming out of the woods towards them were two small, blue, ape looking creatures that had foam coming out of their large mouths.

"Gibberlings," said Imoen and Jeral in unison. As Imoen loosed her first arrow she remarked, "Guess we both did learn a little something in our studies after all."

Jeral only grunted as he started throwing knives. The first beast took an arrow in the throat and went down hard while the second one kept coming. Despite his best efforts Jeral continued to miss his target. Knife after knife went wide of its mark and the Gibberling bore down on him. With a start Jeral realized that the Gibberling was going to reach him. After the fifth throwing knife left his hand he drew his short sword and prepared himself for close combat. His final knife whizzed by the Gibberling's head and sliced cleanly through its ear. If possible that only served to make it scream louder as it leapt at Jeral.

I can't believe that this stupid little creature is going to be the end of me.

Jeral closed his eyes and swung wildly with his sword. He heard a terrifying howl and felt a warm splash as hot fluid spurted all over his face and torso. He felt something slam into his buckler and then heard a thud as the creature hit the ground next to him. Opening his eyes he could see little through the blood red haze.

"Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so. But I can't see!"

Jeral could feel the panic start to well up inside.

"Tilt your head back."

Jeral did so and felt a cool wave of water wash over his face and Imoen emptied a water skin into his eyes and face. After rubbing has hands across his face a few times Jeral could see again.

The Gibberling lay next to him, nearly decapitated. He looked down and saw that his sword was covered in blood and gore.

"Nicely done brother, you nearly took his head clean off. I thought you were a goner for sure."

Trying to look calm and collected, Jeral managed to say, "I meant to do that." It sounded feeble and insincere to his own ears but Imoen seemed to buy it.

Jeral realized with a start that training for combat was much different that actual combat. They both went about picking up as many of their arrows and knives as possible, not knowing when they might be able to restock.

Jeral could only find four of the knives he had thrown and a few of Imoen's arrows had shattered or could not be found.

"Nice shooting sis, if it weren't for you we would have been in real trouble."

Imoen's face lit up, she kissed Jeral on the cheek and started humming happily as they walked along.