Chapter 8 – Fun with Letters

"I am sorry, Stefane", the elf commiserated with the young mage. "I have never heard of 'The Hag's Hand'. It is not a landmark with which I am familiar. Let us take a break. Perhaps your notes will make more sense to us later in the day."

All morning, Daelynn and Stefane had puzzled over the research the mage-to-be had shared concerning the resting place of the Tome of Mysteries. Garlt, tiring of the talk, had wandered off to explore the area around the small lake at which they camped. The lake, wreathed in mist and framed by mountains and forest, begged to be explored.

Returning a few hours later the dwarf found the elf practicing a strange form of exercise that consisted of making slow, flowing, rhythmic movements with her legs, hands and arms. Stefane stood behind her trying to mimic her movements. He could follow the basic pattern but with nothing approaching the grace exhibited by the elf.

"So, elf. Yer a dancer, I take it?"

Daelynn shook her head. "I do enjoy dance, Master Gemfinder. Dance is especially important as an expression of faith to my mother's people. But this is combat training."

The dwarf snorted. "Fer fightin'? I guess if yer fightin' against Turtle People or dangerous snails. Did ye move so slow against them brigands? No wonder one almost got away."

Daelynn smiled.

"Come then dwarf, try to knock me down."

"I'd jest hurt ye, lass. I'm near half and a bit yer height but twice yer weight. Maybe try against the lad. He's not got much skill. Less likely to hurt ye."

"Hey!" Stefane objected. "I spent a season as a reservist in the City Guard. I can handle a weapon!"

"More like a shovel fer diggin' latrines! I know very well what work Guard units, Dwarven or Human, give to newbies!" Sneered Garlt.

"You two are impossible", cried Daelynn. "Stop bickering! I am bored. Let us train. Now, someone try to hit me. Please!"

A quick look passed between the young mage and the dwarf. Without a word the two of them leapt at the elf.

Stefane was only a few feet from Daelynn. He took one quick step towards her, reaching out with a long arm. The elf whirled around, grasping the man's wrist. She pulled, locked his elbow and twisted, forcing his body to bend backwards. He did not see the leg that swept out, kicking his legs out from under him. He toppled to the ground.

Daelynn's back was now towards the charging dwarf. Garlt smiled, setting his shoulder as he rushed forward to knock the elf over.

Without looking back Daelynn stepped aside, evading his charge. She spun about, delivering two quick jabs at the dwarf's head. Ears ringing and half-stunned, Garlt tripped over Stefane, who was trying to rise. Cursing, mage-wannabe and dwarf tumbled to the ground in a heap.

Rising to his feet, the dwarf laughed good-naturedly.

"Yer monk trained", observed Garlt. "I should o' figured that out."

"Trained by my father and the monks of the Setting Sun Monastery", Daelynn asserted, pressing her hands together in front of her and bowing towards the two men.

Garlt dusted himself off and looked the elf up and down. "Never heard of 'em. But I am new to this kingdom."

Stefane stood upright, straightened his clothing and faced the elf. "I was not ready. Let's try that again!"

"Vey well. Let me know when you are ready, Stef…"

Daelynn had not finished her comment when Stefane jumped forward. Crouching low, he attempted to grab her, intending to lift her and throw her to the ground. A knee to his nose and a cuff across his right ear sent him stumbling back.

"Ow!"

"Love the eagerness! Get up and try again. Oh, do not worry – it is only blood. Come on. Again!"

At the elf's goading, Stefane rose and cautiously approached her.

"Good." The elf smiled. "If you do not know your opponent's skills and strengths, or if theirs appears superior to yours, approach slowly. Look for a weakness. Try a feint."

Stefane's lessons in unarmed combat continued for almost an hour before Daelynn called a break.

The speed and intensity of the lessons had grown as the hour progressed. Both combatants were sweat covered, but Stefane's breathing was laboured, and he was dusty, having been tossed or knocked to the ground numerous times.

Daelynn walked to the lakeshore and began stripping off sweat-stained clothing. Limping, Stefane followed.

Now naked, her blue skin glistening in the afternoon sun, Daelynn slowly walked past the young human male and entered the lake. Half submerged, she turned back to the shore and was mildly surprised to see that Stefane, himself only half-clothed, appeared not to have taken notice of her. He was fussing with a drawstring.

Well! That did not happen too often, she thought. In fact, never. A lesson in humility from her goddess?

Submerging and sinking beneath the surface of water, Daelynn allowed the cool liquid to relax her muscles. She pushed off from the sandy bottom, kicking with long legs, and headed to the shore.

As she waded onto the narrow beach, Stefane, now as naked as she, walked past her without a word or look.

Quickly dressing, Daelynn stood, hands on hips, watching Stefane splash about.

"A fine view", stated Garlt, munching on an apple, one of several he had collected on his morning walk.

Daelynn was certain he referred to the mist shrouded lake framed by high hills, now swathed in autumn colours. Those were pretty, too.

"Just wondering about something", averred Daelynn.

She turned to Garlt.

"He seemed to be catching on quickly", observed Daelynn.

"He do", agreed the dwarf. "He's a quick learner. Seems to pick up things fast. 'Cept magic?"

"He is truly awful at casting", confirmed the elf. "His cantrips and a few low-level spells are passable. He does better when he is not focussing too much on the spell. He called forth a small fireball without hesitation when we first met. He may be an instinctive caster."

"What's that?" Asked Garlt.

"Some spell-casters forgo spell books and formal study. They learn intuitively, calling on an innate connection to the Weave, the source of magic", explained Daelynn.

"An inborn talent? Yer talkin' sorcery", offered the dwarf? "Thet's dang'rus stuff. Never met a Sorcerer yet thet weren't half-bonkers."

"It could be that his formal training is at odds with an innate talent. That could explain his poor casting." Daelynn looked at the dwarf. "If his talent is more Sorcerous that Wizardly, then I am surprised his Master has kept him on."

"Ye doubt he be graduatin' any time soon?" Asked Garlt.

"I do", answered the elf. "Most student are there to learn the fundamentals of magic. It takes a year or two. They will then apprentice to a Mage, Alchemist, Artificer, Merchant Prince, or find some other path that continues to follow in Mystara's ways. After an apprenticeship that could last many years, the student sets out on their own. Sorcerers, however, tend to jump right in to what is called 'natural spell casting', the results of which can be lethal. That is one reason there are so few Sorcerers as compared to Wizards in the world."

"I think he's stickin' around that Academy 'cuz o' a girl. Anyways, when do we spar, elf? Tomorrow soon enough?"

"I look forward to it! In my almost 200 years I have fought against only a few dwarves, and one half-dwarf. I could use the practice, Master Gemfinder."

Daelynn moved over to her neatly arranged gear.

"How was your walk?" She asked.

"Saw no ruins. And no runes either", declared the dwarf.

Daelynn regarded the dwarf, a puzzled look on her face. "Excuse me? No ruins and no ruins? You repeat yourself."

"What? Oh, it's me dwarven brogue. I did not see any r-u-i-n-s. The lad said there were dwarven ruins. An' Dwarves leave runic marks on the landscapes around their strongholds. Usually on rocks, sometimes trees. They mark borders an' such. So, I did not see any r-u-n-e-s either."

"I am an idiot", said Daelynn, as she turned to the lake.

"Stefane", she shouted! "You were translating texts, correct? Which alphabet did you use?"

"What"? asked Stefane. "Um. Common, of course. Why?"

Stefane strode out of the lake, grabbed a robe and marched over to the elf and dwarf.

"Who aided you in the transliterations", queried Daelynn?

"Ah, no one. Corinna and her uncle were very busy running the Academy. I did most of the research on my own."

"The advice you got from Corrina or her uncle, about searching for Dwarven "ruins"? They meant dwarven r-u-n-e-s! You used Common Runic, which was a wrong translation matrix. Common and Dwarven runes, while having similar sound values, are also conceptual, or symbolic. They are alike but have differences. Here… let me get parchment and ink."

Daelynn rummaged in her gear for her writing box.

"See?" She wrote out a phrase in her neat hand. "This is 'The Hag's Hand' in Common speech. You say it is the place where the Tome resides. And here is that place name in Common Runic. Now convert that to Dwarven Runic. And now directly back to Common speech, and we have… 'The Witch's Claw'. If memory serves, that is the name of a rock formation a bit north of the Borsa Road and perhaps a day or two east of us."

"I'm an idiot", exclaimed Stefane! "That has to be it!"

"Great", mumbled the dwarf. "Now I'm travellin' with two idiots."