Talric was the first to awaken,
Veronica's arm thrown over his naked chest, her head nestled against his
shoulder. Gently, so as not to wake her, he removed her arm and kissed her on the
forehead, smiling down at her. She stirred briefly, a grin crossing her face,
before drifting back to sleep. Talric checked the shelter she had made, amazed
at the wide variety of spells mages could cast. Shaking his head, he quietly
opened the door and stepped into the sunshine and fresh air, bathing his aching
body in the sun's warmth. He walked towards the edge of the woods, making his
way towards the road to Metier. A large single pine stood by itself near the
road, its limbs seeming to reach for the sun. Reaching the tree, Talric scaled
it quickly towards the top, testing his skill of climbing he depended on so
much. From this vantage point, Talric could clearly see a great distance down
the road, just over twenty yards from the tree.
Talric sat near the center of
the tree on a large limb the size of his thigh, nearly twenty feet off of the
ground. A group of travelers approached from the city, riding quickly towards
where the elf sat. He was about to climb down when his keen eyes spied the
unmistakable face of Zolaar the dark cleric. Panicking, he peered through the
tree towards the shelter, sighing in relief when he realized the magically
built hut could not even be seen. It was as if the place he slept last night
had completely disappeared. Talric stretched himself out on the limb, hoping
the dense foliage on the tree would prevent the riders from seeing him. As they
neared, Talric could see that Spearzor rode with Zolaar as well. He could also
recognize most of the others fighters who had been involved in the brawl in
Eileia's tavern. Zolaar called for a halt near the position of the tree, a
satisfied grin on his face. Talric craned his neck to pick up what the group
was saying.
“You’re lucky to have gotten
out of there at all. Your incompetence has cost us much. Those damned people
are following our master to Tiermane, as we speak.” He growled to Spearzor.
The skinny assassin lowered his
head in shame. “Yeah, I know. If I had known what they looked like, I would
have been more careful. The only one that was described to us didn’t show up
until after the brawl. We couldn’t have known they were the ones we were
supposed to watch for.”
“You were drunk, you dolt.”
Zolaar screamed. “You could have been picking a fight with Malkar himself and
not realized it!”
Talric saw a flash of steel at
Zolaar's wrist. The dark cleric quickly threw the dagger hidden in his arm
sheath, piercing Spearzor through the throat. The assassin gasped briefly,
reaching for the blade, before toppling off of his steed. The other fighters
reeled back in horror as they saw him gasping for breath before falling still.
The dark cleric dismounted,
walking to the lifeless body of Spearzor. He removed his blade and wiped the
blood on the assassin's tunic. Turning towards the others, Zolaar spoke in a
low voice.
“He has paid for your failures.
If the rest of you do not wish to die, you will follow your orders as they are
given. Any flaws on your part will result in your deaths not by my hand, but by
the hand of Malkar himself.”
Zolaar began walking towards
the tree where Talric was. For a moment, the elf thought the dark cleric had
sensed his presence. He sighed inwardly when Zolaar turned back to his men.
“Hang his rotting carcass from
that tree.” The cleric spat with a wave of his hand. “Let others know the price
of failure in the Dark Lord's service.”
Talric's heart began to race as
the soldiers dragged the corpse towards his position. They'll spot me for
certain, the elf thought. He slowly placed his hand on the hilt of his sword,
preparing to fight once he was spotted. A dwarven fighter stood right below
him, peering curiously up at Talric. To his surprise, the dwarf failed to see
him. The stout warrior tossed a thick rope into the maze of branches. Talric
suddenly realized that the rope had snagged around his ankle. Sweat beading on
his upper lip, the elf tried to slowly move his foot to knock the rope loose.
Before he had a chance to, two of the other soldiers arrived with Spearzor's
body, tying one end of the rope around the corpse's chest. With the other end,
the three pulled the rope taut, using the leverage to drag the body into the
tree. The weight of the dead assassin, as well as the roughness of the rope,
tightened down on Talric's ankle, drawing blood. Talric bit his lip to keep from
crying out in excruciating pain. As the body was raised, he tasted blood,
realizing he had bitten almost completely through his lower lip. Soon, the
burning in his ankle stopped as the dwarf began to tie the loose end of the
rope around the large tree. Talric's leg began to go numb. The elf spoke a
silent prayer, thankful for the numbness that blocked the pain from his burned
and bleeding ankle. Satisfied with their work, the three soldiers began walking
back towards their mounts.
“We must reach Barlow as
swiftly as possible.” Zolaar said. At least Talric thought that's what he
heard. His heart boomed loudly in his ears, making the elf dizzy from the pain.
“Malkar has told me we are meet
with him there. The mage that traveled here with me will quicken our journey
using a dimensional doorway spell. Nothing will stop us in our quest to rule
the realm!”
Spurring his horse, Zolaar fled
towards the south, his lackeys trailing close behind. A flash of magic caught
Talric’s attention, but when he peered in the direction Zolaar had gone, the
cleric and his fellow riders had disappeared. The elf whimpered as he removed
his sword. With swiftness, he severed the rope that held his ankle to the tree,
sighing in relief as he checked his damaged leg. The skin of his ankle had been
rubbed raw nearly to the bone, blood flowing freely through his torn boot. He
lowered himself gently to the ground, crying out in pain as he landed a little
too hard on his damaged foot.
He covered the body of Spearzor
with the dead man's cloak, laying it against the far side of the tree, out of
the view of any travelers who may wander by. Limping back to the shelter, he
ran the events of the last few moments through his head. What plans did Malkar
have to get rid of Talric's friends? Where would his friends be now? Before
reaching the edge of the woods, he had made up his mind to acquire mounts and
supplies and follow the course Cyrus had planned for the others, hoping to stop
whatever vile deeds Zolaar had in mind. A twig snapping to his left jerked him
away from his thoughts. He brought his sword from its sheath with blinding
speed, rolling to position himself for an ambush. Having forgotten his injury,
this move proved fruitless as his foot failed him. He crashed unceremoniously
to the ground, moaning in pain as he clutched his ankle with his free hand. He
slackened his tense muscles as he watched Veronica approach from the bushes.
“I'm sorry I startled you.” She
apologized. “I just came out to look for you.”
As she approached, Talric stood
and sheathed his sword. He favored his ankle as he rose, hoping Veronica would
not notice. There was no reason to worry her needlessly.
Veronica threw her arms around
his neck and kissed him briefly. “So what happened to your leg?” She asked,
smiling.
Talric sighed as he looked into
her eyes. For a moment, she had him completely under her control, her beautiful
blue eyes mesmerizing him like bright pools of cobalt. Talric shook off the
effects of her gaze, managing a slight smile despite the pain in his ankle.
“I ran into a few old friends
down by the road.”
As they walked back to the
shelter, Talric relayed what he had seen and heard by the road. Veronica
decided, as he had, that they should attempt to reach Cyrus and the others to
warn them of the dangers Malkar and Zolaar posed.
To Talric's obvious surprise,
the camouflaged shelter Veronica had conjured up the night before had
completely vanished, leaving only the still smoldering fire and the trio's gear
where the shanty had once stood. Grull was still sleeping soundly, oblivious to
his vanished surroundings. The elf looked to Veronica in surprise, only to be
met with her captivating smile. Talric merely shook his head in amusement.
Chuckling to himself, he squatted down and shook the orc by his shoulder, rousing
him from his slumber. Grull, still bleary eyed from his slumber, turned to look
at his new friend with a slight grin. He glanced at Veronica then back to the
elf, his grin widening.
“Sleep well?” He asked. Talric
and Veronica eyed each other, the mage's face red with embarrassment as she
managed an impish grin.
“Very well, thank you.” She
murmured, wrapping her arms around herself as she lowered her head, flustering.
Grull rose, stretching his
stiff body. As he bent to retrieve his possessions, he noticed the dark stain
at the back of Talric's boot. He darted back up, dropping his things, staring
wide-eyed at his friend.
“You hurt your leg. I can
help.” Without waiting for an answer, he crouched back down, gently grasping
the wound in his hand. Talric felt his pain eased as the healing magic of the
unique orc worked through his ankle, the skin growing back over the wound. Not
a sign of the wound could be found once the deed was completed.
“Once again, I am in your
debt.”
Grull shrugged. “I only want to
help you. You are my friend. I would do anything to help you, even if it means
I will die.” He lowered his head briefly, kicking a pebble across the ground.
“You two are my only friends.”
Veronica walked over and laid
her hand on the orc's shoulder. It was then that she noticed how much Grull's
common had improved since yesterday. He’s a very quick learner, she thought.
“We have others who would like to be your friend, too. They're far away from
here and may soon be in danger.” She glanced over to Talric then back to the
orc. “We'd be really glad if you helped us to find them.” Grull's face
brightened.
“Really? More friends?” His
brow furrowed in concentration. “If they in trouble, I will help them. Will
they really be my friends?” Talric slipped an arm around Veronica's slim waist,
smiling at the orc. She's really starting to like him, he thought.
“They may react badly towards
you at first,” The elf started. “But once they know you as we do, they will
risk their lives for you as they do for us.”
The trio packed up their
possessions into the large packs Grull and Talric would carry on their backs.
As they stowed their gear, they all talked and laughed, particularly at an
amusing, but quite vulgar, joke Grull had heard from a passing band of
mercenaries months ago. Once Talric explained the joke, the orc seemed to turn
a deeper green, obviously blushing. He looked over to Veronica pleading for
forgiveness, but the mage was too busy laughing to attempt such a thing.
As they neared the old shack
they had found the man at, Veronica grasped her lover's hand tightly, drawing
strength from his touch. The three paused briefly, Talric fitting Grull with a
tailored robe from Veronica's pack. The two stepped back to admire the elf's
work. Grull no longer resembled an orc, looking more like a powerfully built
mage now. His face was blanketed in shadows, his hands covered by the extended
sleeves of the garment. Satisfied, the three continued north to Metier.
It was about an hour past noon
when the three reached the massive passage leading through the walls
surrounding the trading town. They passed through without incident, the
sentries on duty recognizing them as some of the companions who had helped
drive away the orcs who had attacked the pilgrims outside of town days earlier.
They strolled quickly towards the Trades
Inn and Tavern, hoping Eileia could help them get what they needed for the
journey ahead.
A gathering crowd in the middle
of the street attracted their attention. Moving to the edge of the group,
Veronica was horrified to see a young girl lying beneath an overturned wagon,
her legs pinned by the cart. A man kneeled at her head crying openly as he
screamed for someone to get a cleric. The man held the young girl, perhaps ten
years old, her bleeding head cradled in his hands. Four men Talric recognized
as being in the elite guard were trying to right the wagon. Once turned back on
its wheels, one of the soldiers darted in the direction of the temple, hurrying
to retrieve the priest the man called desperately for. Talric knelt by the man
and the limp form of his daughter and frowned. Her legs appeared to be broken
and her head was bleeding profusely, rivulets of blood dripping through the
father's fingers.
“What happened here?” The elf
asked.
Through choking sobs, the man
looked up at the elf pleadingly. “I left her only for a moment. The horses were
startled and bolted for the street. The wagon hit a rut and overturned, pinning
my beautiful Anastasia beneath it.” The man choked back tears of remorse.
“Please help her. She's all I have left.”
Before Talric could answer the
man, he felt someone kneel beside him. He glanced over to see the shrouded form
of Grull, reaching out uncertainly towards the still form of Anastasia. He
thought he heard a sob beneath the folds of the cloak, the orc coming to the
same conclusion about his identity as Talric. With only a moment's hesitation,
Grull reached out and laid his hands on the girl's chest.
“Poor pretty girl.” The orc
murmured between sniffles. As his hands touched her body, the warm blue glow of
his strange healing magic began to bathe her unconscious body in its warmth. A
gasp of awe reverberated through the crowd as her twisted legs began to
straighten. Her head wound sealed over as the girl's father looked at the
shrouded form in astonishment. Even the wind seemed to stop as everyone held
their breath, looking for any sign of consciousness from little Anastasia. The
little girl drew in a deep breath; her eyes fluttering open, squinting from the
brightness of the sun. Her father choked back tears of joy as she smiled at him
weakly, her pain vanquished. He lifted her back into the wagon gently, covering
her with a woolen blanket, then turned to face his daughter's savior.
“I am deeply indebted to you,
my friend.” The father beamed, wiping his bloodstained hands on his trousers.
“How can I ever repay you?”
Grull lowered his head as he
stood, keeping his face shadowed. “I saw you hurting, like her. I only want to
help. I don't like when people hurt.”
“My name is Bellar Nightwing.
Could I please have your name, gentle sir?” The man asked.
The orc hesitated for a moment.
“Call me Grull.” He said, clearing his throat.
“I thank you sir Grull for
helping me in my time of need. If ever you need anything, don't hesitate to ask
of it.” Bellar extended his hand to the orc. Without thinking, Grull shook the
man's hand, drawing it back quickly when his orcish palm appeared through the
long sleeves of the robe. Bellar's eyes bulged in horror as he realized the man
beneath the robe was, in fact, an orc. Eyeing Talric, the man opened his mouth
questioningly. The elf grasped Bellar by the arm, his eyes pleading to the man.
“Yes, Bellar. The creature you
see before you is an orc. Please don't give his identity away. Do not judge him
by his race, but only by the aid he has give you today. You asked if he wanted
anything, please give him his anonymity.”
Bellar's face relaxed as he
pondered what had just happened.
“I will do as you wish. Orc or
no orc, he saved my daughter's life. For that, I am in his debt.” He turned to
face Grull. “I'm sorry if I misjudged you. I just wish all of your kind were as
kind hearted as yourself.”
“So do I.” Grull murmured. “So
do I.”
With a wave of farewell, the
three continued towards Eileia's tavern, Talric hoping Bellar would keep his
promise to Grull.
Minutes later, they reached the
door of the Trades Inn and Tavern.
Eileia greeted them with hugs at the door, pausing as she peered curiously at
the heavily cloaked form of Grull. She asked of Cyrus, Talric telling her he
would explain everything in private. Nodding in understanding, she led the
three back into her room, locking the door behind her. Talric sat her on the
bed, preparing her for the shock she was about to receive.
“I want you to realize that the
person you see before you has saved our lives many times since I found him.”
Talric started, gesturing towards the still cloaked orc. “Please don't let his
appearance frighten you until we can explain.”
Gesturing to Grull, Talric sat
down beside Eileia, placing a hand on her slim shoulder. The orc paused for a
moment before throwing back the hood of the robe, revealing his orcish
features. Eileia's body shuddered briefly at the sight, her face contorted in
horror and rage. Within an instant, she was on her feet. Talric held her back
knowing the death of her uncle by orcs was still fresh in her mind. As he was
about to reassure her, he noticed the puzzled look on her face.
“Grull?” She said, to the
astonishment of the others.
Even the orc was taken aback at
the mention of his name. He peered curiously at her, before his eyes widened in
recognition.
“Ei-lela?” The orc answered.
The barmaid giggled girlishly.
“It's Eileia. I'm surprised you recognize me. It's been so long.” She stood to face
the orc, surprising Talric and Veronica by hugging him briefly before sitting
back down on the bed.
Talric gaped at Eileia,
stammering over the question that was more than likely on Veronica's mind as
well. With a smile, she answered his thoughts before he could form the words.
“When I was little, I was
playing in the woods where Uncle Raem had warned me never to go. Lost and
scared, I stumbled into Grull, who was part of a small scouting party sent to
raid the outskirts of the city. He hid me until the other orcs had passed, then
led me back to the edge of town. If not for him, I would have died or been
captured at the hands of his kinsmen.” She smiled fondly at Grull, the orc
nodding his head in recollection.
“For weeks, I would sneak out
and meet him outside of the city, against my uncle's wishes. He was my friend.”
Her face became solemn as she brought back the memory of her uncle. “Uncle Raem
followed me one day. When he saw Grull, he went berserk and tried to kill him.
I helped him to get away and never saw him after that. I thought he had died or
moved on.”
Talric smiled at her. “Well,
he's alive and well now. He was being tortured by his own kind when I found
him.”
Eileia looked sadly at her old
friend. “I'm sorry, Grull. I remember how much they mistreated you.”
Veronica, still at a loss, sat
down by Talric, who immediately placed his arm around her waist. “How did you
recognize him?” She asked.
Eileia peered over at her and
smiled. “Why his blue eyes, of course. At first I wanted to kill him after what
happened to Uncle Raem, but when I saw his eyes, I knew almost immediately who
he was.” She stated matter-of-factly. She glanced at the two together and
smiled. Talric thought he heard her mutter 'I knew it' under her breath as she
rose.
“How- how is Cyrus?” She asked
hesitantly.
Talric told her of the events
that took place since they had left the town a few days earlier; the attack by
the goblins, Veronica's collapse, and eventually the meeting of the Brotherhood
members on the road outside of Metier. Eileia listened with interest to the
tale, silently aching for the comforting arms of Cyrus.
“I miss him. My heart leaps
every time I see a warrior pass through the doors of the tavern, only to drop
when it isn't him. What do you need in order to get to him?” She asked.
“Just a few supplies and
horses. We’ll be leaving as early as we can in the morning. In the meantime,
could you set us up with a couple of rooms? I don’t want to stay anywhere else
where Grull might be spotted.”
Eileia thought for a moment
before looking back at the quiet form of Grull. The orc had found a sturdy
chair, resting his weary legs.
“The rooms won’t be any problem
at all. In fact, you can use this one and the one adjoining it. I don’t mind
sleeping in one of the spare rooms. I ask only one thing in return from Grull.”
The orc looked up at the mention of his name. “Please bring my beloved back to
me alive. You protected me once, now I ask that you protect him as well.”
Grull smiled at her warmly. “If
he is important to you, I will protect him with my life. I will bring him back
to you, Ei-lel...Eileia.”
The barmaid walked back to the
door. She left quickly, securing the trio from the prying eyes of her patrons.
The three turned in for the night, Grull taking the smaller room next door.
Veronica and Talric talked for a few hours before making love and falling
asleep in each other’s arms.
When Eileia returned to the
room the following morning, the lovely girl had a beaming smile on her face.
She had secured the trio’s supplies, but had something else in store for them.
“Strangest thing happened
yesterday morning.” She said, eyeing Talric. “A beautiful horse appeared on the
steps of the tavern as if waiting for someone. I'll give him to you.”
Talric's eyes widened as he
bolted out the door and headed outside to the stables. Standing at the entrance
was the beautiful steed he had released in the woods beneath the Shadow
Mountains. He approached the horse, stroking her muzzle fondly as he spoke
softly to her.
“I knew we would be together soon,
girl.” He murmured. “I never thought of a fitting name for you until now.
Henceforth, you will be known as Sundance.” He stroked the black silken mane of
the horse, which seemed to snort in approval.
Talric hugged the mare around
the neck fondly as Veronica, Eileia, and the cloaked form of Grull approached
him. The elf cleared his throat as he reached out for Veronica, intertwining
her hand in his.
“Veronica, this is Sundance.”
Sundance pushed Talric's
shoulder gently with her muzzle. The elf looked over to the horse as if
answering an unspoken question.
“Well, I'm sorry. I just never
formally introduced you to her.” He said to Sundance.
The two girls and the orc
laughed briefly. As Talric packed the bags of Sundance and the other two
horses, Veronica and Eileia took a short walk, talking silently to one another.
Grull watched them briefly before turning to the elf in confusion.
“What do they talk about that
we cannot hear?” The orc asked in genuine perplexity.
Talric smiled at his friend as
he helped the orc into his saddle.
“Women things. You'll get used
to stuff like that when there are more than one around.”
As the elf mounted Sundance the
orc looked at him. Talric noticed a grin peeking out from underneath the folds
of his hood.
“You and Veronica talk softly
the other night. Was that ‘women things’ too?”
Talric flushed in embarrassment
as he shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. The approach of five men made the
elf stiffen. He noticed, standing at the head of the group, was Bellar. One of
the men looked to be a priest; the others appeared to be more of Raem's elite
guard, the gray dragon icon standing out on the front of their green sleeveless
doublets. Talric looked over to see Grull, his body rigid in fright. It seemed
the man had not kept his promise to keep the orc's identity a secret.
“Hello again, Grull.” Bellar uttered as he approached.
“The Bishop Tyrad Renard would like a word with you.”
