Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright© 2013-2014 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

Intent on getting to the source of whomever is behind the trafficking of magical creatures, Jaden and her friends set out from the city of Farcrest with a far destination in mind - the capital of the elven nation, Ral Sona, deep inside the wildlands. Along the road they pick up another travelling companion that will make their journey more interesting.

Flashback: Rhyce returns home despite the consequences, and makes a discovery that put his life on a new path

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Chapter 22: Hope and Rain

RHYCE

He immediately felt cold when he stepped into the familiar house, despite having ridden hard for days. There was something missing in the air. No laughter. No smells of flowers or food. It was funny, the details he noticed at a time like this. Nobody had dusted the shelves. The sound of him pushing the door open brought a man out of one of the bedchamber to meet him before he had made it half way through their main room.

“Rhyce! What are you doing here?” The big-shouldered, honest man had shock and surprise on his freckled face.

“I got your letter, Davon. I had to come.”

“But then you know there’s nothing to do. It’s the white fever. You’re… too late.”

“Let me see my son!” Rhyce began to head for the bedchambers.

“Rhyce!” His neighbour stepped up and grabbed the archer by the shoulder. “Rhyce. It’s too late. Milene is still holding on, but she doesn’t have long. She didn’t want to let go until she could hear you again.”

Rhyce pushed past the other man, and saw the two doors in the back. One was slightly ajar, the other was closed. He rested his hand on the closed door for a moment, and then looked through the open one. Next to the bed knelt Kindra, her honey blonde hair braided back from her face as she dabbed Milene’s face with a damp cloth. Milene was so pale, like a sheet, breath coming in shallow gasps.

His neighbour’s wife looked up with sad eyes, but made room for him to take her place. Rhyce held the clammy, fragile hand of Milene between his own, gently stroking the back of her hand with a thumb.

“Milene? Love, I’m home. I’m home now.”

“Rhyce? My heart, is it really you?” Her eyes were blank and cloudy. The fever stole sight first, before it took warmth and finally life.

“I’m here.”

“They wouldn’t tell me how our Tivan is doing. He is well, isn’t he?” Her voice was so frail, barely a whisper past those pale lips.

“Tivan is…” Rhyce bit back a sob, looking at the closed door across the hall. He had to be strong. “Our son is fine, love. He’s just resting.”

“I was so worried,” Milene breathed. “Too young to be taken from us.”

The archer didn’t trust himself to speak, but instead just held her hand to his cheek as he fought the tears.

“Will you take care of my birds, my heart?”

There weren’t many magicians in the borderlands. Most with the gift went to the cities to train and study with the academies or masters of the arcane arts, but Milene was a borderlander born and raised. Her heart belonged to the hills and valleys at the edges of the lands of man, free from the rule of kings or grands. As an untrained magician, an ashar, she was content with the lesser talent she had developed spontaneously. It was a little thing, talking to the birds and animals, but it made her a skilled and beloved herbalist healer for the farms in the valley. She had formed an especially close bond with a pair of Shelmot crows that followed her everywhere.

“I will,” Rhyce vowed, holding onto her as if he could keep her from slipping away.

Suddenly, Milene tensed as a warmth flowed through her into her husband. Even though death would take her today, she willed a part of herself to stay behind. With a final effort she surrendered her gift to the love of her life.

“Milene?” Rhyce felt the change, as his wife let go. Her final breath a whisper of love from beyond the grave. “… Milene?”

Footsteps stopped behind him, and a hand against his shoulder interrupted his grieving.

“Rhyce. Riders are coming. They are wearing the colours of the guard.” Davon sounded worried. “How did you get here? Your next leave isn’t for many months yet.”

“I did what I had to do, Davon. They wouldn’t listen when I requested permission to go home for personal reasons.” The archer remembered how his commanding officer had dismissed him out of hand. He remembered breaking the man’s nose immediately afterwards. Leaving the camp had required crippling two of his former comrades in arms. Of course they were coming for him.

“You deserted? Rhyce, they’ll hang you for that. You need to go. Now!”

“I can’t leave just leave them.” The archer refused to abandon his family again.

“They wouldn’t want you to die! I’ll… take care of everything. You’ll see. Come back when things settle down a little. Just give it a few years,” Davon glanced towards the window again. “You have to go.”

“There’s nowhere for me to go, not anymore,” Rhyce’s mind was moving too slow. It was like trying to find the way home in a thick fog.

“The forest, then. Nobody would dare follow you into the wildlands. You’re good enough a huntsman to survive there.” His neighbour pulled him to his feet, and shoved him towards the back door. As the light of the sun struck his eyes, he saw the old chestnut tree that grew behind the house. Milene had sat there so many times with Tivan, when their son had been but a baby, singing to him and the animals that would gather around.

Rhyce looked back once more towards the house he had built with his own hands.

“I will come home, Tivan. I just need to find the way first,” he promised as he sat up on Davon’s horse.

As he galloped away from the homestead with the chestnut tree, a pair of black birds swept down to follow him, their wings beating a funeral march for the ones he left behind.

Sounds drifted up from the common room of the Old Hog, but they were faint enough that only someone with keen hearing could pick out anything but an impression of merriment. Rhyce didn’t pay the background noise that much attention; his mind was in another place, another time. The faint creak from the stairs brought him back to the present, and his hand was halfway to his quiver before he saw who it was. Many things had happened these last days that made him feel as if his foundation was slowly crumbling under his feet. He had spent the years since his time with the army, and later with Enold’s gang, rebuilding his world. But it was a place made out of hate and loss. There had been too much light for a place like that to thrive. Now, the previously dead ground was cracking as leaves of all but forgotten green was growing back in. Hope felt strange after all this time.

“Did something happen?” The knight who had offered him a second chance those years ago reached the top of the stairs, her brown hair free from the braid she usually kept it in when they were on the road.

“Ran into trouble. Sorted it.” Rhyce met Mirena’s eyes, delivering his report with more than mere words. “Jaden switched forms during. Is in his room now.”

“Is s- he alright?” Mirena had never seen Jaden change before her eyes. In over a year of traveling with the mystic, he had always found some excuse not to use the best known ability of his tradition. If Jaden had felt it necessary to break that personal rule today, things must have been dire indeed.

“We had help. His sister is… strong.” The archer vividly remembered their opponent turning to stone before their eyes, and then how the basilisk mystic had coldheartedly destroyed any trace by shattering the statue. He could respect that sort of determination.

“Alright. Let me know if there’s anything else,” the brown-haired woman straightened as she stood by the door, and absentmindedly brushed her hair back before she knocked on the door. She rested a hand on the door handle. "Jaden? It’s Mirena. May I enter?"

Instead of answering, the door was opened for her. The mystic looked miserable, with her black hair slightly dishevelled and wearing the borderlander’s studded leather jerkin with the hood down. It looked too big on her, with the sleeves hanging empty as she was holding it close with her hands from inside. Jaden stepped aside to allow Mirena inside, and in the better lighting of the room the knight could see that her friend’s face was a little streaked and blotchy.

"Have you been crying?" Mirena reached out to brush some black strands away from the mystic’s face.

"Not as much today, but yeah. I... I don't know why. It just keeps happening lately." With a heavy sigh, Jaden plopped down on one of the beds. Both beds were equally messy, and at a glance it was hard to tell which belonged to the Northern warrior or the mystic.

"That's alright. It's okay to feel, Jaden." The knight sat down next to Jaden.

"It's just that these last few days have made my insides feel as if I've tumbled down a steep hill. Why is this happening?"

"Is that so? Hmm." Mirena gave her friend a speculative look. "I can think of some reasons for that. Did your clothes break again?"

Jaden shifted a little, and allowed the jacket to show some of her shoulders. Only a thin portion of fabric remained around her neck, with the back a mess of shreds. It would probably not remain covering her front without the bodice keeping the cloth together.

"It's my wings. They rip apart anything I wear on my upper body when I manifest them." Jaden realised that she had been forced to assume her spirit’s form more often this last month, than she had in the last couple of years. Again, the unnatural speed of the drift shocked her. Before Tier, the changes had been possible to hide with clothing. Now, though…

"Well, Rhyce will want his jacket back, so we're going to have to find some way of managing." Mirena plucked at the leather jerkin a bit. It was clearly armour, not casualwear. The studs, the reinforced areas, even the smell spoke of combat.

"Ugh. As long as we won't have to go back to that dressmaker again..." Jaden slumped down a little, remembering the embarrassment of being fitted for her bodice. It was but luck that her wings had spared it, emerging from just below her shoulder blades.

"We'll see. Have you eaten?" The knight changed the subject smoothly. One challenge at a time.

"No, I - I mean, Rhyce and I, we were... interrupted."

"Yes, he told me about that. We'll have to talk more about that as well, but not right now."
Mirena sat down next to Jaden and began wiping her friend's face with a peach coloured lace kerchief she kept on hand. "First thing is to get some food into you. It's almost three o'clock, and you've not had anything since breakfast."

"You're being a mother hen again, Rena." Jaden complained good-naturedly, but still allowed herself to be cleaned up.

"Well, if you're not going to take care of yourself, I clearly have to." Mirena chided with a smile while finishing up her handiwork. She couldn’t resist running her hands a few times through that glossy black hair; shape it into something that belonged on a lady instead of a scarecrow.

"Sorry." The mystic looked down on her lap.

"That's alright. Now, take off those shreds and try out that jasmine blouse you got yesterday. It'll have to do until we get you sorted out." Mirena stood back up, and turned to the side. She wasn’t completely turned away from her friend, but also wasn’t looking directly at her while Jaden was changing.

"I guess I'm lucky that my manifested form is humanoid, at least. More or less. Lilya must end up naked every time when she shifts back," Jaden smiled wryly, as she slipped out of the leather jacket and peeled off the ruined clothes. Now they were just more expensive cleaning rags, added to a growing collection.

"The small blessings are rays of light on a cloudy day." The knight reminded the mystic with a small smile on her lips. She usually left this duty to Rhyce, but since it was just them in here, she would bear the burden of wise sayings.

"That's such a priestly thing to say, Rena."

"Indeed. Now, don't make me button up your blouse for you, too."

"I can manage, thank you." Jaden swiftly did up the buttons, not thinking twice about how they sat opposite from what she was used to. Her fingers moved by themselves.

The book looked small in the Northman’s hands, fragile sheets bound to supple leather worn smooth with age and use. Kellen didn’t mind the loud common room, with people drinking and talking, coming and going. Growing up with a love of books in Strom, you learned early to shut out the clatter of mugs, bawdy songs and ruckus of the settling of some disagreement that made up the background noise in the longhouses. A big finger carefully flipped a page, and traced the scrawled script that spoke of the time of the first empire, back on the old continent. A time before the war that broke up the greatest civilisation the world had seen, sundered the kingdoms of men, and forced the great diaspora that eventually led the last people of the empire to the coastlands. The book told the story of how the children of the first empire became the founders of the second one, with the rise of the previous dynasty in Etria. Now, of course, it was the Sartekhs that held the grand throne in Etrana. When they too eventually would lose their grip of the great city, the last vestiges of the empire would also pass into memory. Kellen couldn’t help but wonder what such a change would do to the world he knew. Etria, for all its faults, served as a stabilising factor among the coastlands. While the Northern Lands would welcome the collapse of the lingering imperial rule, and take the opportunity to expand again, the rune seeker wasn’t sure that would be for the greater good of all. No, tradition and structure was important. Then again, Kellen didn’t share a lot of the values held in high regard among his clansmen.

A chair scraped against the floorboards as someone plopped down at his table. No matter how full the Old Hog got, he had been allowed to sit by himself thus far, which meant it was one of his friends. Since he knew for a fact that three of them were upstairs, that left only his cousin, and the little fox. Stann would have sat down next to him, which left only one option.

“Hello, Oleander,” he said, not taking his eyes off the pages.

“How did you know it was me?” The Olman girl wondered, speaking loud enough to make herself heard over the din of the common room.

“Magic, of course,” Kellen joked.

Before the redhead could reply, the door to the inn got pushed open by the boot of Stann. The warrior struggled with a burden of several heavy sacks and baskets.

“Hey, Red! Come on, now!” Stann’s voice was muffled by a large bag of potatoes wedged partially underneath his chin.

“Shut your gob, Bear! You said you’d carry everything if I told you about what I had seen!” Oleander shot back, leaning lazily into her chair.

“At least hold the door open, will you?”

“No, never!” The redhead immediately refused.

The dwarven innkeeper swatted his way with his apron through the patrons and pushed the door shut after the Northman had struggled into the inn. Thick eyebrows pulled together in a deeper frown than usual. Turgar didn’t like keeping his door open. It let the ambience out, he said.

Stann had only made it a couple of steps up the stairs, before he backed down to allow Mirena and Jaden to get past him and his bundles. Instead of her vaguely Marsander outfit of this morning, the mystic had changed into a pale yellow shirt. Kellen still couldn’t believe how much different their elfish friend looked with her hair left down around her shoulders, and the change of attire. Focusing on her face, the changes really were quite subtle, but the whole gave an unmistakably feminine impression. There was really no doubt about it at all.

“Hey Jay! Hi Rena,” Oleander greeted their friends. “Come sit. I saved us a table.”

Kellen didn’t comment, but instead just turned another page.

“I’ll go order some food for you, Jaden,” Mirena said, as the mystic sat down with the redhead.

“You don’t have to do that, Rena,” Jaden protested.

“It’s no bother.”

“No, seriously. I don’t want to eat the food here. Those bread… pork… things Keeper Baradum makes? They’re horrible.” The black-haired mystic waved her hands in an emphatic rejection. “I promise, as soon as things calm down a little, I’ll go to that tavern up the street a way. They serve really good soup.”

While Stann was upstairs, sorting out the goods from their provisioning trip with help from Rhyce, the rest remained down in the common room. Eventually the conversation turned to clothes, which caused the rune seeker to return to the refuge of his book.

"Okay, that's it! It's getting ridiculous destroying my clothes all the time! I need to get a shirt of the same design as Master Hetagon's." Jaden complained with groan as she told her friends about what had happened during the fight earlier that day.

"What's that?" Oleander tried to remember if she had seen anything when she was introduced to the winged man at the wizard’s hobnobbing a few days ago.

"It has, like slits in the back,” the black-haired mystic ran a finger along the Olman girl’s back below her shoulders. It felt strange touching other people freely again. She had avoided contact for so long; afraid someone would see the secret she kept hidden.

"Would that help with wings suddenly appearing? I can see how it would work if you dressed yourself around the wings, but not if they just show up." Mirena attempted to imagine her friend suddenly growing a pair of wings. She had gotten a glance at the strange things when they had bumped into each other back in Redwall, after the demon had been dealt with. The wings were surprisingly large, with the tips almost touching the ground when they were folded.

"Ugh. I'm just getting tired of being half naked in public." Jaden hid her face with her hands, as if everyone in the common room had gotten the same show as Rhyce and Lilya.

"Can I see them now?" Oleander leaned closer and peered at the mystic’s back, as if she could see what wasn’t there. The noise around them was loud enough that they didn’t fear being overheard when talking about such things.

"No." Jaden shook her head.

"Cheapskate."

"What about a backless top, like some of the Kasmani gowns I've seen in Tier?" Mirena tried to steer the conversation back to clothes, and a solution. While she wouldn’t want to wear such a revealing garment herself, it was a reasonable way to go about their problem.

"Won't that be very cold?" Jaden had grown up in the mountains, and was no stranger to cold. But as a saying went, you should dress for the weather. Summer wouldn’t last forever, after all.

"Will it? You bathed in boiling water before, remember?" The knight pointed out the scare they had yesterday. If Jaden could handle extremes of heat, a little chill shouldn’t be much more of an issue, she imagined.

"Oh. Right. But still... bare back? Isn't that showing a little too much skin?" The mystic had gone without a shirt before. But that was… before. A part of her was surprised at how quickly she had adopted a woman’s modesty; the rest of her didn’t want to spend too much time considering why that was.

"As opposed to showing it all after a fight?" Oleander made a sweeping gesture out from her chest, as if making a grand display. Granted, the redhead was a lot slimmer than the other two. Of the three of them, she was the only one who could get away with not wearing a bodice unless she felt like it.

"I admit you have a point, there," Jaden gave in with a roll of her eyes.

"You can always wear a cloak to cover yourself, or a jacket?" Mirena had seen several flattering short capes when they visited the seamstresses last day. Or, she guessed, there were those short jackets favoured by the Marsander women.

"That... could work, I guess?" It would be easy enough to shrug out of a jacket if Jaden would be forced into manifesting her spirit’s form again.

"Hey! But, what about your tail?" The redhead tilted her head a bit.

"I don't have a tail, Ollie."

"Are you sure? I'm certain the other de- I mean, THE demon back in Redwall had one, right?" Oleander caught herself. Jay wasn’t a demon. He was… Jay. Right?

"No, I'm pretty sure she didn't." Jaden shook her head slightly, not looking at Mirena who was covering her mouth.

"Wait, no. I definitely remember a tail when Rena and I saw you outside that shed! You're messing with me, Jay!" The redhead got up from her chair, pointing a finger into Jaden’s face.

"I am," Jaden confessed, not being able to hide a smile. It was as if a knot inside her unravelled. It had been a while since she had smiled like that, and it felt wonderful.

"And the horns. You have to consider them, at least." Mirena made a vague gesture at her friend’s head.

"Yes, I... they're not all that big, and since I don't wear hats it shouldn't be an issue." Jaden felt a little sting as she remembered her mirage veil. Everything had been so much easier when she had been able to just go on as normal.

Kellen closed his book with a thump. His brows had drawn increasingly together during the girls’ talk, and he had finally reached his personal limit.

"Could you girls please take this conversation somewhere else?" The Northern rune seeker wore his suffering like fresh battle wounds.

Oleander met Mirena’s frown with one of her own. What was his problem, anyway?

"If you don't want to listen, you're free to move." The redhead made a shooing gesture with a hand.

"I sat here first!" Kellen objected.

"Don't argue with them, Kel," Jaden gave her large friend a sympathetic smile.

The Northman grabbed his book and left with a grumble that sounded very much like 'women'. There was a pause while they looked at the retreating form of the Winterheart magician, before they went back to their discussion.

"So, I'm thinking lavender," Mirena nodded as she imagined a particular shade of it against Jaden's complexion.

"I don't know," the black-haired mystic sighed.

Rhyce looked at the large pile of bags and sacks stacked at an awkward tilt on top of one of their beds. It’s seemed like an excessive amount of food for a trip that would take them through several villages along the way. The archer mentally shrugged; it was better to have too much and drop some of it later, than have too little and be wanting for more.

“Lost the game?” Rhyce asked of the Northern warrior, who was wiping his brow with a sleeve.

“What? No, no. I was winning by far, but then the sneaky girl pulled a fast one on me. You know how tricky she can be,” Stann shrugged a little. Truth be told, he liked to think he had come out on top in the end anyway. Oleander sure could describe something, when she put her mind to it.

The archer just made a noncommittal grunt, and checked some of the bags. Finally, he gave a nod of approval. This would comfortably see them the way back to Tier, with only a quick stop for fresh goods in Rosehaven. If they could keep their pace up, it should be a quick trip indeed.

“Hey, Rhyce? Double-check the window latches before we go, okay? I don’t like the look of those birds hanging around outside. If they get in here, they’ll eat all the good stuff.”

Since they would have to divide the food among themselves to carry later anyway, the two returned back to the common room to spend the time until it evening. Neither of them had much to do as it was, and there was an empty table anyway.

Eventually the rest of the group returned. Kellen showed up with a new journal, fresh from the bookbinders up towards the westgate district. He had picked up the habit of chronicling their travels, to pass on any wisdom to the next generation. When one book was filled, he left it with any local associates for copying, or sent it by messengers to Radent, the capital of Olmar, and also a place where the Society of Rune Seekers had a collegiate establishment.

The women, and Jaden, was gone almost until sundown. Once they returned, Oleander looked relieved to be away from wherever they had been, and the black-haired mystic had a slight lingering blush.

In the end, they all found themselves around the table that was more or less officially theirs by this time. It was too late to pursue any new lines of investigation, and most businesses had closed for the evening. With the festival now at an end, sundown brought a quiet even onto a city the size of Farcrest.

Every preparation they cared to make for leaving the city was out of the way. As soon as the dawn let her rosy fingers grace the sky it would be time to return to the road, southbound for Rosehaven and then Tier, but for now they had the remainder of the evening to talk and plan. It would take them the better part of three days to make the journey, and then it was anyone's guess how easily they would be able to find a suitable riverboat to carry them up the Odar to Carrick Field.

"What worries me is how everything we've discovered so far points at how that trading company having some powerful backers," Oleander was balancing some of the pub's traditional dwarven dry biscuits on top of each other. Biscuit was probably a misnomer, since they contained nearly equal parts pork, but the name had stuck nonetheless. The keeper's mixed-breed dog sat nearby, following her hands with the keen interest of someone who waits for a treat to fall to the floor, its ears flopping gently with the motion of its head.

"Well, we already knew there was some sort of organisation in Sorun that were behind this, one way or another. There's no way a large-scale creature smuggling operation can take place without significant insider help. Especially in such a closed society as the elves." Mirena had seen some of the logging agreements from the time when the Sorun wildlands reached further north across the Odar and the Shelmot Plains into Alband, almost connecting with the Albar forest. The elves had very strict rules about what was allowed to be cut, and enforced them as hard as they needed to, to make their neighbours see where the line was drawn.

"Sure, Rena. But this was the first time we heard about how much local clout they have. There's more to this than some bad elves - no offence, Jay - chucking money at a couple of Farcrest merchants." Stann made an apologetic gesture at Jaden, who frowned but kept her mouth shut. "There's politics here, I can smell it."

"Could a local nobleman or something be involved? The commerce through Farcrest is busy enough that it'll take more time than the king could spare to personally oversee every approval. There's probably staff involved in the matter. Most likely lesser nobles with no better prospects? The lure of foreign gold could win a lot of favours in the court of second sons." Oleander might have grown up in the streets, but some things were common knowledge. The oldest child inherited the land; the rest either went into the priesthood or took up a business to make themselves useful.

"You are probably right," Mirena agreed. From what Arim had told her, the royal court in Farcrest was almost as much of a bureaucratic mess as it was in Tier. "However, with the ruckus in the harbour, as well as the fighting today, they're probably scared into hiding. Speaking of which, Jaden? I believe you told me how mystics never were mercenaries?"

"We're not! We sometimes fight for a cause, but we don't sell ourselves like sorcerers." The black-haired mystic felt some of her Lacunai pride rush up to her cheeks. "Still, we have our deserters, just like everyone else..."

"So, you think those two were, uh, rogue mystics?" Kellen asked.

"They must've been. There's no way the citadel would authorise this kind of operation in a foreign nation." Jaden remembered her mother saying how she had sat in on a diplomatic meeting or two when the peace treaties between the nations needed to be renewed. Sending powerful mystic combatants to rampage through the capital would probably be a breach of several articles in that agreement.

"Well, you're the expert. Still, it can't be cheap to retain a couple of mystics. It's pricey enough to put a battle sorcerer on your payroll - especially with those noncompetition fixed rates."

"I don't know. Jay? How much would it take to rent your battle-form for a day?" Oleander leaned exaggeratedly towards the mystic, fluttering her eyelashes and grinning.

"I'm not for sale, Ollie." Jaden made a face. "Also, it's 'manifestation'. Mystics manifest their spirit form."

“Ten crowns?"

"No."

"A hundred crowns?" The redhead offered, as she fed another biscuit to the dog. It wasn't as if she would eat them anyway, but the mutt seemed to love the greasy knots.

"Ollie..." Jaden’s voice took on a warning note.

"A magic sword and silky veil?" Oleander looked up from the dog with a cheeky grin.

"Not funny."

"If you two are done?" Mirena spoke with patience of someone who had to herd cats. "Good. So, we can assume a local partner in the operation? Do we still go ahead with our journey in the light of this new information?"

"We might as well. Harassing the smugglers who are using the back roads will probably give us something on the source of all this. Also, we've got Alisan's group working with us in Ral Sona. That ought to help out." Stann smiled as he thought of the coming days. Whether it was the pleasure of spending more time among the pale elf, or the idea of putting the fear of the North into lesser criminals, was anyone’s guess.

"Speaking of her - didn't she say she would meet us here today?" The knight looked around the table for confirmation.

"It's possible that my witless cousin may have frightened her off," Kellen said.

"Actually, the keeper said she had been by earlier, but since none of us were around she had left a message that she'd be back later." Jaden glanced at the surly dwarf. Them monopolising his dog didn't seem to soothe his temper any.

"I just thought of something," Stann looked up.

"Hmm?" Kellen gave his cousin his attention.

"Do they even speak Trade there? The elves, I mean?" The warrior wondered, while turning his mug of beer in his hands.

"The official language of the elves is Sorunese, or as they call it Serecean, but I imagine many of them will be versed in the midland tongue. How come?"

"It would be nice if they understood me, is all."

"Don't worry, Bear. I doubt they'll misunderstand your intentions!" Oleander quipped with a sly grin. She knew all too well her friends’ particulars. Not that Stann ever really made a point of keeping his hidden.

"It's as good a time as any to find out, however, since it's not really been brought up before: how many of us can even speak Sorunese, if we have to?" Kellen said

"Just a few phrases, I'm afraid," Mirena admitted. She knew just enough to exchange pleasantries at a social function, or make introductions without offending anyone.

"Me too. Some elf-words worked their way into Tarad everyday speech, since we lived right by the border," Oleander nodded along. “I think I was like ten years old before I heard another word for ‘ship’ than vanya.”

"Not much more," Rhyce spoke shortly, as always. Borderlanders often picked up snippets of many tongues out at the fringes of civilisation.

"I'm pretty much fluent," Jaden said after everyone else had chimed in.

"Well, naturally. But, hang on… let me count. You speak Trade, dragon-talk, Estal AND Elf?" Oleander boggled a little as she ticked each off on her fingers.

"Not to mention Nethertongue," Kellen added, despite Jaden's glare.

"Nethertongue?" Stann asked, not having heard that one before.

"Demonic," the larger man clarified.

"Ah. That makes sense." The warrior nodded sagely, taking another gulp from his mug.

"Why do you know so many languages?" Oleander wondered, resting her chin on a hand. To her, if was more important how you said something, than what you said.

"Well, it is just one of those things that happened over time. We mystics need to be able to communicate with our contracted creatures, after all. Fey speak elven, salamanders understand draconic. Demonic for, uh, obvious reasons. Estal was the only language I actually intentionally picked up, which was fortunate since we had to spend the whole summer down in Etrana last year." Jaden considered it a bit. Learning languages had always been something that had come thankfully naturally for her. The idea struck her, that maybe in making bonds with other beings, she shared more than their magic? Perhaps something else of that essence passed to her, allowing her to see the world through their point of view. And what was language, but the expression of thought?

And how would that affect her unusual spirit-bond?

Two voices as one, where the twin horizons can meet

Turgar looked up from restocking the bottles behind his counter, and his neutral expression immediately turned sour. He didn’t especially dislike most of his patrons, but the dwarf had a strained relationship with the elves. This one was especially bad, since she had initially hid the fact with some hat when they first arrived the days before the festival. She had also managed to hide her womanly attributes somehow as well, but elves did strange things.

“What d’ ye want nao?” He muttered, bending down to retrieve another couple of double distilled applejacks from the crate. He kept his stash of bottles away from the common room because of the fire hazard. These ones had a bite to them.

“Well, you see, I noticed that a couple of the other guest left today,” Jaden began cautiously.

“What of it? The Dellor’s were only here fer the fest’val.” Turgar stopped with what he was doing, giving the mystic a suspicious glare.

“Yeah. Could I take their room? I’ll pay, of course.” Jaden tried smiling. It didn’t work.

“Did ye break somet’ing? It’ll cost ye if ye did!”

“No-no! Everything’s fine!”

“What’s wrong wit’ the old one, then? Did ye elf it up, some way?” Turgar lifted a bushy eyebrow, taking the toothpick from his mouth as if intending to stab Jaden with it.

“I… what does that even mean? I just want a room for myself,” Jaden explained, trying to make sense out of the dwarf’s heavy accent.

“Hrm. Well, fine. But oi’ll be keepin’ yuir coin fer the first one.” There would be no budging on that point, by the look of the innkeeper.

“That’s fine, master Turgar. I just want to… uh… not share rooms anymore.”

“Suit yuirself. It’s yuir silver.” With that, the conversation was over and the dwarf turned his back on the regrettably elvish woman.

Jaden gratefully slid a few coins across the counter in return for the key to the last room in the guests’ hallway. Despite all the unexpected expenses on clothes and… other items that Mirena had strongly suggested picking up, the mystic’s purse was still heavy with gold. The payment from the temple in Rosehaven for their handling of the cultist situation in Tier, together with the coin she had been offered to balance the scales when she traded her sword for the mirage veil, allowed her to treat herself to small comforts for a good while yet. Jaden didn’t know what the others did with their reward, but she could make a few guesses. Mirena would probably tithe some to local temples they visited, while Kellen would no doubt spend it freely on books or dusty old scrolls. Stann had been talking about getting his hands on an enchanted sword of his own, and as far as Jaden knew, the winter warrior had been saving most of his coin to this end. While not extremely rare, magic weapons were still too expensive for anyone to just casually buy, barring the wealthy elite or larger organisations. The Arcane Order, for instance, funded a good part of its own endeavours through the sale of both lesser enchantments as well as custom ordered designs.

As she bounced the small steel key in a hand, she wondered what Ollie did with her shares of any treasures or rewards that fell into their laps. The redhead didn’t have any expensive habits or obsessions. Come to think of it, Jaden had no clue what Rhyce did with his share, either. He couldn’t spend it all on arrows, could he?

“Hey, listen,” Stann held up his hands to stop Jaden. “I thought about our, uh, arrangements. And, well, we got it sorted. Kel has a friend here in the city, magician colleague or something, and he’s going to stay over by him for the night. So, I’ve moved my things over to the other room, so you can have our old one by yourself.”

“That’s really considerate of you, Bear. Thank you.” Jaden closed her hand to hide the key. Her friends had gone through some trouble out of concern for her feelings, and she didn’t want to take that away from them. “I’m sorry to put you through all this trouble, though.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it, little… uh, I mean, Jaden,” the warrior finished haltingly. “There’s no need to make things awkward, right?”

“Even more awkward, you mean?” The mystic smiled sideways. “I don’t know why I’m even thinking about this so much. It’s not as if anything really changed compared to the last week or so.”

“Sure it has. A couple of days ago, you were our quirky little wizard brother who fought by my side with sword and fire.” Stann had a mixed expression of pride and confusion, where his feelings of friendship and loyalty fought against these new circumstances. He gestured at Jaden vaguely. “Now, well… We’re all getting used to things.”

“I’m still me, Stann. I’m still going to be right here, fire and sword and everything. Not sure about the quirky part, though. You think I’m quirky? Quirky how?”

“Well, you’re really in denial about some things,” Stann waggled his eyebrows, and grabbed the smaller, elfin woman by the shoulders and led her back to their table.

“No, I’m not!”

“See?”

The grey cover had blown in from across the ocean under the night, and the day didn't as much dawn as it turned another shade of cloudy. The air was heavy with moisture, and it didn't take a fisherman to realise that there would be rain before noon. Even for Alband, where rain was a guest expected to pay visits on any day, the skies looked especially heavy.

"This is clearly an omen that we should go back to our comfortable beds and stay there until we can see the sun again," Oleander grumbled as she huddled next to the others. It was still a little brisk from the lingering cool air of the night, and with no sun to chase the chill away it was indeed a miserable way to start a journey. She was sitting on top of their piled-up belongings next to the inn. The innkeeper’s dog was sitting next to the door, whining every now and then. It had tried to go with Rhyce, but the archer had commanded it to stay.

"The sooner we get going, the quicker we will be arriving in Rosehaven. Going early means we can avoid the third stop along the road," Mirena reminded the smaller woman, who didn't look entirely convinced. Some of Oleander's reluctance may have sprung from the last night's cups of wine. The redhead wasn't usually a heavy drinker, but she had murmured something about working up her courage for something. In the end, she had remained at the table, trying to match a surprised but amused Stann in his almost ritualistic preparatory drinking. The warrior claimed that he needed to stock up on his personal beer reserves for the road, and how his cousin was no doubt doing the same over by his friend's house.

Rhyce and Jaden had gone to fetch their horses earlier. The Old Hog didn't have its own stables, being little more than a drinking hole with sleeping arrangements almost as an afterthought, so after getting their rooms there they had spent a good portion of their first day finding a courier's stationhouse that had the room to spare for a half-dozen extra horses. Mirena had finally suggested asking one of the local temples for permission to use their stables, but by then the Winterhearts had already secured a place for their animals. A knight could normally request consideration for herself and her squire, but Mirena was always reluctant to use her position - earned or otherwise - for any special benefits.

The mystic and the archer finally appeared, leading the small herd of horses through the empty morning streets. They had been walking in silence, except for the occasional necessary word. Ever since Rhyce's surprising admission the other day, Jaden hadn't been sure what to say to him. Rhyce seemed fine with the silence, and went about his duties with simple efficiency, but for Jaden is was an uncomfortable experience. She wanted to say something, talk about what had been said, but she didn't know where to begin. Instead, she had followed along to prepare their horses hoping that there would be some opening if they were working together. Even not knowing what to expect, she felt a little disappointed when the borderlander had just kept silent while tightening saddles and adjusting bridles.

"Let's start dividing up the bags while we wait for Kellen to catch up. I'm sure he's on his way right now," Stann said with a glance down the street as they gathered around their horses.

They worked with the practised ease of a group that had done similar things many times before, making sure that each animal didn't carry too much, taking into consideration its rider and the personal gear. Mirena seldom burdened her horse too much, since it was already carrying both her and the carefully packed plate armour. On the other hand, Oleander's pinto usually had to accept a larger share of the sacks of food, something that often drove it to distraction when they brought carrots or apples along.

The first drops of rain had started to fall when they saw a large figure hurrying down towards them. By then, more activity had started as stores were being opened and workers leaving for their daily duties. When the large Northman arrived, none were surprised to see that somehow he had avoided getting struck by any of the raindrops. His left hand was squeezed tight around something, and Jaden didn't have to resort to mystic's sight to feel the faint tickles of magic in the air. The rain seemed to bend around the rune seeker and instead pooled in a circle by his feet, not quite touching his boots.

"Sorry, sorry. I got held up by some extended farewells. You know how formal we magicians can be," Kellen cleared his throat as he tugged at his sleeveless wool tunic.

"There's something red on your cheek there, Kel," Oleander pointed out, pointing with a finger. "Is that a lip print?"

"Ah, possibly," the large magician quickly rubbed a thumb across his cheek, smearing the shape into a faint pink streak. He muttered something that sounded like 'Kasman wench'.

"If you need, hum, more time for your... formalities, you can always catch up with us later, ugly cousin," Stann winked outrageously at his clansman, and was even ready to do some elbow nudging.

"That's quite alright, Bear," Kellen immediately objected, then added in a lower tone, "besides, mother would never let me hear the end of it."

As they finished their final preparations, Oleander leaned against the side of her brown and white horse and gave Jaden a speculative look. The mystic eventually noticed, and automatically raised a hand to her face.

"Do I have something on my face, too?" Jaden's hair was tied back in a tail much like the style she used to wear it in, but somehow it looked more artful than before. The curls that had slipped free and ringled down either side of her face looked almost arranged. It made her pointed ears stand out more, but if it kept raining she would pull up her hood.

"Just thinking." Oleander gave herself a small shake. "Shame that elf-girl they found never showed up, huh?"

"I suppose. It would have been good to have her to guide us through Ral Sona. It's been many years since I was there last time." Jaden paused adding her bags to the saddle as the memory of the ancient city, deep in the Sorun wildlands, rushed back to her.

"You've been there?" The redhead’s eyebrows went up. She had always thought that Jay had been as new to traveling as she was, when they had met in the back alleys of Tarad almost two years ago.

"A couple of times, sure. Once as a part of my training, the other time I went along with my mom when she had to go there for, uh, reasons." The mystic felt the pang of habitual secrecy again. It was hard to forget the lessons the mountain drilled into all its children.

"Just reasons, huh?" Oleander asked with a wry tone.

"My parents have a lot of responsibilities that keeps them away from Talraman at times. Mom, Irissa, she is an envoy like da- like father."

"What do envoys do, then?"

"They're our diplomats, I guess. It's a position that's assigned for a certain goal, rather than a permanent role. Like, Lord Protector Hetagon also served as an envoy when he visited the convocation now. But, since some jobs can be open-ended, the assignment can continue pretty much forever."

"What are your parents supposed to do?"

"Mom is a little of a special case. Her spirit gives her some pretty unique abilities that are useful in several situations, but mainly she's one of our envoys tasked with keeping good relations with Sorun and, uh, another place,” Jaden trailed off awkwardly. It was one thing talking about his parents; it was another thing entirely to reveal some of the more critical Lacunai secrets.

"Huh. And daddy dearest?" Oleander kept asking, since she had finally gotten Jaden talking about personal things. The mystic had been all but clammed up about anything regarding his home for the first year. It was only after the skinwalker debacle in Etria that she even heard him admit to being a mystic in the first place.

"Garen, my father, has heavier burden. He's responsible for keeping us from a war with the dragons." Jaden stuffed the sheathed sword into a loop from the saddle, easily within reach when she sat up. The way she said it seemed so casual, it made the enormity of the words even more jarring.

"Is... that a real concern?" The redhead boggled at the notion. Dragons were legendary monsters. A single one of those beasts could turn the tide of any war. Being at war with all dragons was… just ridiculous.

"The mountain has a troubled past, Ollie. We made some enemies over the years."

"I'd say!" Oleander just shook her head. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear Jaden was trying to pull a fast one on her. But what reason did the black-haired mystic have to lie to her?

By then, the rain had begun a soft drumming against the roofs around them. Jaden pulled her hood up, and joined her friends as they started leading their horses toward the southern gate. The craftsmen's district was not that far from it, and before the rain had made the streets too muddy they were leaving Farcrest behind. As soon as the gate guards waved them past they sat up, ready to make the most of the daylight, such as it was.

Rhyce paused for a moment with a glance to the dark skies, before bringing up the rear of their small company. He usually kept to the edges of the group, either scouting ahead, or guarding their backs. The formation wasn't all that different from how they moved while exploring a dangerous area. Over the year, it had become almost second nature, with Stann and Mirena protecting the flanks, keeping Kellen and Jaden safe in the middle to work their magic if necessary. Oleander usually roamed freely as well, trusted to be where she was needed. Right now she was riding between Jaden and Mirena, talking with either or both of them at once.

A pair of black birds swooped from the clouds towards the city they left behind, perhaps seeking a dry place to wait out the rain.

It was still a little bit before noon when the rain finally eased up. A crack in the clouds revealed blue skies and even a few rays of sun found their way down to the rainy world below. Jaden gratefully pulled her hood back down and shook out her hair before returning it to the tied-back tail. The moisture always made her naturally wavy hair curl up even more.

They had kept a good pace going, despite the weather, and while she was by no means a good judge of distances Jaden imagined that they were likely on right on schedule and would make it to the farmlands surrounding Rosehaven by afternoon the day after tomorrow. The itching of the adventure spurred them on, and unless something major would upset their plans, they had tentatively decided to push through the upcoming town to use the last hours of the day to close as much of the distance toward Tier as possible. They would just have to see where they were along the road when the time came. They would likely pass the road leading off to Redwall from the main coast way by tomorrow evening.

Rhyce rode up from where he had been trailing behind them, and stood up once more in his stirrups to gaze back along the road. The rest quieted down and turned their attention to the archer.

“Someone is approaching quickly,” Rhyce called, glancing first at Jaden, but then turned towards Mirena and Stann.

“Not just a traveller? Maybe a courier?” The warrior peered against the half-hidden sun, holding up a hand to keep the light away from his eyes.

“If they are pushing their horses, I believe we will find out before long,” the knight nodded at her friends. It was a safe road this close to the capital, after all. There was no reason to suspect malice behind everything that happened.

True to Mirena’s prediction, the rider gained on them steadily over the next half hour. Eventually Rhyce, who had been keeping an eye on the shape, called out again.

“Elf woman. White-blonde hair. Maybe the one who didn’t show yesterday,” the archer delivered his impression with his usual short-clipped sentences.

“That sure sounds like her,” Stann agreed with a nod. “Let’s slow down a little. No need to make her kill her horse to catch up with us.”

Soon the rest of them could also see a mane of nearly white hair streaming behind the rider, who was lying low against her horse. A little while later when she was close enough that everyone could make out her elven features, she sat back up and slowed down to a trot. Her horse was breathing heavily as she moved next to them to the side of the road.

"Good fortune that you caught up with us!" Stann smiled as the elven woman brought her steed to a halt next to the group. "We thought we'd lost you to the city!"

"That flower almost bloomed, Winterheart. It was but happenstance, as you said, that I noted an unusual bird for this area, and in doing so saw you leave through the gates. I had to make haste to get my horse and bags before the road swallowed you completely." The elf’s cheeks were flushed with the exertion of riding hard since morning, but she looked otherwise in good condition. Jaden couldn’t help but notice how the ears had a similar point as her own.

"Well, good, then! Everyone, this is Alisan Summersomething. The elf." Stann turned to the rest of the group in making the introductions.

"Summercross," Kellen supplied.

"Right. Alisan, this is Mirena - a priestess of Telum. My cousin you remember, of course."

"Unlikely to wilt from memory, a man of that size," the blond elf inclined her head to the two. Now that she had caught her breath, her voice was surprisingly rich. "Paladin, it's an honour."

"The man with the bow is Rhyce, the girl with the smirk is Oleander, and the... uh... that's Jaden, there." Stann pointed at each of them in turn, but did a little uncertain waving once he came to the mystic.

"Greetings, friends of the Winterhearts," she said to the archer and the redhead, and then smiled as she turned to Jaden. "En helon."

"Oh, for the love of..." Jaden barely resisted the urge to throw her hands in the air.

Alisan paused, a bit surprised at the reaction from the black-haired woman.

"Did I offend?"

"Jaden, be nice now. Don't worry, Alisan. You just caught Jaden on a... bad day." Mirena apologised for her friend.

"I see. Greetings regardless?" The pale elf tiled her head a little to the side, searching Jaden’s face with those clear, green eyes. They looked nothing like Mirena’s dependable moss green eyes. These looked like fine emeralds.

Oleander bumped into Jaden's side with a grin.

"Go on!" She urged.

"... En helon sama. Sorry for snapping at you." Jaden forced a smile as Oleander rewarded her friend with a pat on the shoulder.

“Did something happen?” Kellen asked when the chatter had died down. “I was under the impression that you wanted to meet us before we left the city?”

“I offer apologies, rune seeker. I had to share with the first songshaper of our troupe that I would not be continuing with them to their next performance. He was less than enthralled with losing his finest contralto and was inclined to offer an alternative in the spirit of duress.” Alisan snorted a little with a shake of her head that made her platinum blonde hair dance. “In the end, he saw the point of my argument.”

“You pulled your knife on him, didn’t you?” The large Northman deduced with a pleased smile. Even for a gentle giant like Kellen the idea of beating sense into people was attractive. It was a Northern thing.

“Only let it be known that I had edged my bets,” Alisan said with a laughing lilt in her voice.

“Okay, first, you never said she would be throwing puns around, Bear,” Oleander poked the blonde warrior with an accusatory finger. Then she whirled around in her saddle and pointed with her other hand at the elf. “Second, it’s ‘hedging’ your bets, Creampuff!”

“We have a long road ahead of us, all. Let’s get back to it,” Mirena diplomatically staved off any further arguments and then led by example as she nudged her warhorses into a trot.

Jaden squired a little in her saddle. She was wearing one of her new tops that tied back over her neck but left her back bare all the way down to the small of her back. Against her better judgement, she had picked up three of them, and was currently wearing her lavender one. It felt strange with the cloth of her jacket rubbing directly on her bare back like that. It was a small comfort, however, that jackets cut for women were of softer fabrics than her old ones. This would be fine for the summer, she supposed, but when autumn and winter came, she would have to come up with a different solution. Even if she didn’t feel the heat or cold as intensely as before, weather was more than just temperature.

Alternatively, she thought as she clenched her hands on the reins more firmly, she would just have to find a way to resolve the situation. All these adjustments were unnecessary, after all. She had no plans to spend the rest of her life like this. She would find a way back, one way or another.

It didn't help that her emotions had been all over the place lately anyway. Granted, there had been a lot going on. Between bumping into the nethermaner from Tier again, and fighting the two mystics who had been working for the smugglers, it was a small wonder she was this collected. That was also not mentioning having to rebuild her relationship with her friends. Everyone had been affected one way or another. Stann kept stealing glances at her, and Mirena seemed to have to constantly remind herself not to treat Jaden as a girl. Kellen was all but to tiptoeing around her. Even the ever-stoic Rhyce had surprisingly began talking about his feelings when they were alone. That had been a shock! She knew the borderlander had been acting somewhat strange ever since Redwall, but up until now she had thought it was just because the horrors he had been through at the hands of the demon's servants.

Then there was Ollie. Jaden turned in her saddle to look at the redhead. Was she wearing her hair longer, these days? It seemed as if things were back to normal, on the surface, but Jaden could pick up on the subtle tension in Oleander’s body language, the strained look to her eyes. Oleander smiled and joked like usual, but Jaden could tell something was clearly bothering her. The signs were well hidden, though. Jaden was sure that she would've overlooked them normally, but something helped her reach underneath the mask. Had she become better at reading people, lately?

Jaden turned her golden eyes toward the rest of her friends, as if to test this newfound depth of empathy. The cousins, boisterous and strong, hid a surprising anxiety. Stann, always loud and certain, but now there was a hue of something else there. Kellen, careful and knowledgeable, a brilliant and strong man. He could've been their leader if he wanted to. They would probably have been better off with him making the decisions. How come he always deferred to his cousin, or Mirena?

Responsibility weighs heavily on the heart. Could you live with yourself if your decisions caused the death of one of your friends? Doubt cuts deep and cold.

"How are you feeling?" The knight fell into pace next to Jaden's horse. She had pinned her hair up for the ride. It was almost the same style that allowed her to wear her helmet, but none of them were wearing their armour for the road except for Stann. The coastal road southbound from Farcrest was safe and with plenty of other travellers heading home after the festival, but the Northern warrior wore his chainmail hauberk as a nobleman wore his doublet. It just seemed to fit.

"I'm fine, Rena. You don't have to keep checking up on me. How about you, though? Was I mistaken earlier, or was there something between you and that fellow?" Jaden grinned a little as her friend blinked with surprise.

"Arim is a... very nice man, Jaden. I regret that there wasn't more time to meet with him again. Our duties will always take precedence. Still..." Mirena brushed a hand across the side of her head, as if to push back her hair even though it was neatly put up. "How are you and Oleander making up?"

"What? I, uh," the black-haired mystic sputtered a little. Another glance behind them showed how the redhead was joking with Kellen and Stann. Next to them rode Alisan. The elven woman looked annoyed. "We're good, I think. It's better. Frankly I was more worried about how Stann would react. But now we've got Alisan here to take his mind off things."

"He would never do anything without your permission," Mirena reassured her friend.

"I know. It's just, he's been going on about 'elven maidens'-this and 'elven maidens'-that for as long as I've known him..." Jaden rolled her eyes dramatically.

"And now you fit that part?"

"Rena, I'm not-"

"Jaden, listen to me. Stann is sometimes a spontaneous and clumsy man, but he would never wittingly hurt you or anyone of us,” the knight said with complete conviction.

"I know. I really do. It's just... They all look at me differently now. Even you do." Jaden sighed a little, her shoulders slumping down.

"How would you like us look at you?" Mirena asked, watching the road ahead rather than facing her friend.

"Like before. When I was me. More me than now." The mystic tried to remember how it had felt to be herself. It had only been a few weeks.

"You're still you." Mirena said with confidence. "However, if you don't mind my asking... What did it feel like, when this happened to you?"

"It all happened over a pretty long time. It was slow, almost insidious at times. In a way, I guess I'm still changing. That's the life of a mystic, after all. We keep changing." Jaden gathered her thoughts for a moment. For some reason the unbidden thoughts of the Northern warrior dressing himself without a trace of modesty came to her, and with that picture inspiration struck her. "Imagine waking up one day, and you're covered with hair as a man would be. For some reason you can't shave it off, either."

"My faith doesn't encourage vanity," the knight began hesitantly. She wasn't so sure of herself, though. "I doubt I would enjoy myself, however, and I'm ashamed to admit I would probably attempt to hide it somehow as well."

"It's not fair the kind of hold the mirror has over us, is it?" Jaden tried to keep bitterness out of her voice, succeeding only just.

"Indeed it is not," Mirena said, giving her mystic friend a mysterious smile, then decided it was time to change the subject. “It was on this road where we talked about your magic last time, Jaden. Would you mind if I ask some things I’ve been thinking about since then?”

“Of course not, Rena. Go ahead,” Jaden gratefully took the proverbial olive branch.

"So, the creatures you have on contract gets magic in return for their services, am I right?" The knight spoke slowly, as she was recalling their previous conversation.

"What? Uh. Yes. Basically." It was a simplification of the mystic contract, but it was essentially true.

"But, what does your prime spirit stand to gain? What deal do you strike with it?" Mirena glanced at Jaden as she asked this, knowing that her friend grew skittish when the subject of spirits was mentioned.

Jaden wrestled for a moment with the deeply ingrained need to protect the secrets of the Lacunai. Eventually, the need to share something won out. The knowledge wouldn't make any difference anyway, she reasoned.

"That's a different thing entirely. My salamander, for instance, lives a full, rich life - as salamanders go - and only notice me when I draw upon its power. My spirit, however, she doesn't exist in the same way a salamander does. Spirits are... spirits. They don't have a body. We meet them during a dream quest, and share our own bodies with them for... for the rest of our lives." Jaden clenched her jaw a little. She was going to find a way to change that last part. She had promised herself that much. One way or another, she would be free of this fate.

"So, they get a body? That sounds an awful lot like possession, Jaden." Mirena tensed up a little. Possession was the domain of demons and ghosts. She vividly recalled the lessons drilled into her by the inquisitor during her temple training.

"More or less. Through us, the spirit can experience the physical world. For as long as we live, they will share our experiences." The mystic bond was at heart a truly symbiotic relationship. Each gave and took equally. Magician and spirit, life and magic, the physical world and the dreaming.

"What happens when a mystic dies?"

"The spirit departs back to where it came from." Wherever that was. The Lacunai didn't truly understand the dreaming where the spirit quest took place. Wiser men and women than her had pondered the question ever since the first stone of the citadel was set down upon the mountain.

"Does that mean someone could inherit the spirit of a mystic from a previous generation?" The knight wondered out loud as the idea came to her.

"I... suppose so," Jaden hadn't considered that before. "It's possible, I guess, but I've never heard about it happening."

"Maybe that's why you're going through the changes faster than you ought to?"

"What do you mean?" The mystic didn’t know where her friend was going with this line of thought.

"Because your spirit already knows what it is doing," Mirena said with an unreadable expression on her face.

Jaden felt the chill of fear creep up inside her heart, but just as sudden another feeling bloomed up to swallow it up. Doubt was answered by a whisper of hope.

Don't worry. I will keep them all safe this time. Trust me.

Toward the evening the rain had returned and was still going by the time they made camp. It was a wet, miserable experience and they finally had to resort to magic to get their fire going. Stann and Rhyce were unfolding a large cloth they kept wrapped up in one of the saddlebags. It was actually very large and provided a shelter when they made a rough tent by affixing it to some hastily cut young trees driven down into the dirt. They kept it at a slant to make the rain roll down the side into some pans and bowls. It wasn’t easy to find fresh water this close to the coast, with all the smaller lakes and rivers further inland. With this, they wouldn’t have to stop by any of the farms to ask for the use of their wells.

Alisan had been initially doubtful about the improvised tarp, claiming that the rain would soak through it much too quickly, but once Kellen got to work she quickly changed her mind. The rune seeker transferred the same waterwarding enchantment that kept him dry in the rain onto the cloth, and suddenly the fabric was as dry as he was. The enchantment would fade in time, of course, without him to maintain it, but it would hold for the night at the very least.

As night fell, they were all huddled up underneath the shelter, with the salamander-wrought fire merrily hissing away in defiance of the rain. Even with the size being what it was, they still had to sit close to one another and when the time came to sleep there would be little room for privacy. Their horses had sought safety by some of the trees growing not too far away, and they could hear them whinnying in complaint when some of the rain found its way down the leaves.

Rhyce, as always, offered to take the first watch. The roads may be safe, but that was no reason to be foolish. Under their shelter, sleeping arrangements were handled. Jaden ended up between Stann and Alisan. She couldn’t help but noticing how she seemed to have ended up in the middle of the group, with the women on one side, and the men on the other. While the others were readying themselves for the night, Jaden found herself chatting with Alisan in the elves’ own language. When darkness had fully fallen, and the sound of Kellen’s snoring began to fill their improvised tent, the pale elf spoke with a low voice again.

"(Tell me a story, Jaideen. I feel alone among all these Renen.)" Alisan spoke much more confidently in Sorunese, but right now she sounded small and uneasy.

Jaden bit back her usual retort when she saw Alisans expression. The black-haired mystic suddenly realised that the pale elf probably hadn't spent much time outside the lands of her people. The world outside the Sorun wildlands must seem strange and frightening.

"(Okay. But you'll owe me one in return.)"

"Belan," Alisan thanked the other woman.

"(This is a story about fire.)" The golden eyes of the mystic seemed to glow with an inner fire as she began to talk, soft enough that only two other people could hear. She spoke of a time before the kingdoms of man had claimed the coastlands, when the embers of war burned hot, and the mountain had drawn the ire of the dragons.

When the towers collapsed, you whispered my name.

Rhyce stirred some life into the campfire, as he sat watching the darkness. While his Sorunese wasn't good enough to understand everything his friend was saying, he knew enough. He had heard a version of this story before, an older telling that didn't end quite as well. In the borderlands, the old legends remained alive.

Fire.

It always began with fire. The flames of his spirits. The spark that set him on his current course. The smouldering embers of his relationship with his family. The ashes that was left of his old life. Every step along his road had been followed by fire.

The fire had consumed him. Burnt away the familiar surface, and exposing something he could have never imagined within.

The fire sang to him. It sang of power. It sang of change. But mostly, and most loudly, it sang of truth. The song of the inner fire grew so loud that no other sound could match its intensity; no voice could measure up to its power, and no feeling its equal in passion. The music of the flame accepted no other tune. It was so loud it eclipsed all notes that wouldn't harmonise.

He had been an odd note, but each pulsating beat of the irresistible drum, each flare of that raging inferno, stripped away the jagged edges he didn't even realise were there, shaped and moulded until what was left was the truth. Harmony.

This is who you are.

The thought wasn't his own. It almost sounded like him. Like he sounded now, that is. Different, though. Much more certain. It spoke like the fire did.

Jaden dreamt of fire.

When morning came the rain had turned to a light drizzle, like the world was filled with dewdrops. Jaden awoke to find that something had changed from when she had returned to her blankets after finishing her watch after Rhyce woke her up. An arm was holding her around her stomach, one covered with light hair and a few scars. Stann had spooned up to her while they had been sleeping. For a moment, Jaden didn’t know what to do, but finally began to unwrap the warrior’s embrace. The motion must have woken him up, as he began to stir. Jaden’s squirming also made her very aware of something else touching her.

"Uh, good morning, Stann," she called over her shoulder.

"Mm? Morning, little brother." The Northman blinked a bit owlishly, and then yawned like his namesake. “You know, you’re really warm. Really warm.”

"And you're... quite awake back there, Bear." Jaden tried not to think of what was pressing against her behind.

"Huh? Oh. Sorry."

"That's alright. It happens." The mystic felt a pang of loss as she remembered waking up in a similar state so often herself. Still she couldn’t blame her friend for a natural reaction. There was a long pause as she heard her friends getting up as well. "Regardless, I'd appreciate it if you let me go."

Once everyone was on their feet, they helped rolling the tarp back up while the enchantment still kept it dry. Mirena had started preparing breakfast, setting the schedule for the remainder of the trip. Since they didn’t want to scare Alisan away, Oleander had agreed to sticking to just handing out breads, fruits and dried meats. Jaden had agreed to help by keeping the pots and pans away from the redhead.

As the pot was bubbling, spreading the smell of porridge around their camp, Alisan sought out Jaden again. She had managed to find somewhere private to change into another grey dress more suited for traveling, than the white outfit she had arrived in yesterday.

"Jaideen? Let us not share the cup of stories at the banks of sleep again. You gave me the most vivid dreams." Alisan looked a little tired, as she gently rubbed her cheeks.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

"It seems as if I did not, but it was not very restful." The elf looked a little haunted, but weariness turned to annoyance as someone came up next to them.

"I don't know about that," Stann invited himself into their conversation. "I found you two mumbling in elf-speak to one another very soothing indeed!"

"Ew. Stann. No." Jaden looked disapprovingly.

"I'm just saying I had some wonderful dreams, that's all!" The warrior grinned, raising his arms a little to show how appreciative he was.

"Walking away now," the black-haired mystic held her hands to her ears as she hurried off, closely followed by the pale elf.

The day continued with long periods of riding, pausing only to eat or rest their horses when necessary. If they wanted to pass through Rosehaven rather than spend the night there, they would have to push themselves a little. Halfway through the day, some of them were saddle-sore enough to begin questioning why they were even keeping up this pace. Jaden only had to remember the sorrowful song of the dryad, or the hopelessness of the dracone to realise that every day they lost was another day that whoever was behind all this had to hurt even more innocent beings.

Riding along the coastal road, Jaden found herself spending more time talking with Alisan in the elven tongue. The elf seemed a little homesick, and sought comfort in the presence of another of her kind, even if she was mistaken. Jaden didn’t have the heart to correct her however, mostly because Alisan just seemed to assume, but didn’t make a big deal about it. After all, to her it was normal to be elvish.

During one of their short breaks for food during the second day, the conversation ended up on the topic of the elven lands. The Sorun wildlands was mostly the vast forest that reached from Tarad in Olmar, almost to the western coast. It filled the entire valley between the Erbor mountain range to the north, and the tall Isanduar peaks to the south. According to Alisan, the forest had been even larger in the old days before the kingdoms of man claimed this land.

"So, why do we call it 'Sorun', when the elves call it 'Serecea'?" Oleander wondered idly as she chewed on her simple bread and fruit lunch. One of her bad habits was talking with food in her mouth. She could almost see the shift inside Kellen, when the fighting Northman stepped back to allow the Scholar to take the stage.

"Well, it's all rooted from when the people of man first came to this side of the world several hundred years ago. Along they brought the Seren elves from the old kingdoms of the first empire. But, as it turned out, there was already an elven civilisation here, in the larger forest of the time, called the Cealen. Serecea is actually just that, 'Ser e Cea'. The people of Ser and Cea, together." Kellen held up his hands to either side, and then put them together to show the union of the two elven people.

"Oh. Though, you know, what with Alisan here, I thought I'd ask her," Oleander pointed at the elven woman, who looked as if she was torn between being offended or amused by how the rune seeker claimed superior knowledge of her culture.

"Oh, uh... Right. Of course." Kellen had the good grace to almost blush.

"No, ta hela su, please - go on." Alisan finally settled on one emotion, and rested her chin on a palm, with a raised eyebrow.

"I... certainly. So, after the settlers began to find land, still staggered from losing Etrion to the rebel uprising and the perilous journey into exile away from the core realm, it was not long before they noticed how they weren’t alone,” the large Northlander’s voice shifted anew, from the lecturer to the storyteller. Oleander stopped chewing for a bit as she listened to the legend of the imperial family trying to rebuild what had been lost in a strange and foreign place.

When the time came to clean up and prepare to get back into their saddles, the redhead still had a lot of questions so she sought out the pale elf as they were bringing their horses around.

"Hey, tell me about Ral Sona, Ali?" Oleander led her tan pinto horse up next to the elven steed. Horses from the wildlands were about the same size as the Midland breeds, but lighter on their hooves, allowing them to run even in the thick of the forest. They would be more popular among other people if it wasn’t for their poor tolerance for heat and bright sunlight. Their adaptation to the shadowy forest made them ill-suited for the open steppes of Olmar, where the many ranches provided the majority of the horses used around the coastlands.

"Ali?" Alisan blinked.

"What? You don't like it when people shorten your name? There's nothing wrong with being short, you know!" The redhead puffed herself up a little.

"Oh, it's just that the word appears as 'hope' to my people," Alisan said with a happy smile. "Though, you prolong the 'a' somewhat. Ali."

"Aahli does? That's kinda neat!" Oleander was more than a little pleased with herself. "And since I've nicknamed you, that means we're officially friends. You're Ollie's ally Ali, alright?"

"With pleasure... Mela?" The elf smiled hesitantly.

"Eh?" It was Oleander’s turn to blink in surprise.

"Ceasina Solonmela. The oleander bush appears in some valleys of south Serecea," Alisan explained awkwardly.

"So, what does that mean?"

"It, uhm, means 'oleander'." The elf's eyes darted to the sides, as if she wasn't sure how to respond.

"No, that's the Trade word for it, right?" The Olman girl gave the saddle straps a final tug, patting the pinto mare’s side.

"Oh, you seek the literal translation? That appears to be... ah, 'feyspring lifebane'? Mela would be, uhm... bane." Alisan trailed off as she realised where her translation was going. Her expression turned a little panicked.

"... your nickname of me is 'bane'?"

"Ta viela, friend Oleander, I sought not to hurt! It can also appear as 'one who finishes things'. Translating between the two tongues is sometimes-"

"That. Is. Awesome! Hey, Jay! Guess what my name means in Sorunese?" The redhead pulled her horse in the direction of the black-haired mystic to share the good news, leaving Alisan even more puzzled.

The second night came much in the way as the first, with rain and huddling together under the tarp. This time around, though, Jaden positioned herself between Oleander and Alisan. The redhead had a strange look in her eyes while they were settling down to sleep. Her face was the last thing Jaden saw as dreams finally took her away from the waking world.

That night, Jaden dreamt of fire again, but this time it was another kind of fire. Fiery hair, eyes burning with passion and red lips. The heat was just as intense as the last dream, and left her wanting for more.

Morning came all too quickly, but at least the rain had let up sometime during the night after Jaden had fallen asleep. The ground was still soggy wet in places however, and yet again they had to resort to special tricks to light their campfire again. It had died down shortly after dawn during Kellen’s watch, when the Northman had been too engrossed in one of his new books to pay attention to the fire. His candle companion rune gave him all the light he needed anyway.

Once he finally got the fire going again, Kellen busied himself with setting up the pot for the breakfast porridge. It was always a little painful to watch the large man do anything that required coordination or finesse. The rune seeker had amazing strength and wisdom, but for all his power, he was as clumsy as a lame moose when it came to practical things.

While the camp was tidied up and the group sitting down to have their food, Jaden once again found the elf by her side. While she wasn’t especially opposed to Alisan’s presence, she was beginning to feel as if the elf might be becoming a little too dependent on her company, seeing a kindred elf among a world of strangers. Jaden stirred her porridge with her spoon thoughtfully while she tried to come up with an idea to get the pale elf to spend more time with the others. Jaden couldn’t just push her into Stann’s arms and hope for the best.

"You speak Trade very fluidly, Jaideen," Alisan said between spoonfuls.

"Uh, yeah, how about that..." The mystic was still engrossed in her thoughts.

"But your Serecean seems to have a strange colour to it. Did you grow up away from the homeland? Or..." Alisan peered at Jaden with curiosity. "Could it be that you're not fullblooded? You are very... plump for a Cealen elf."

"I beg your pardon?" Jaden looked up sharply, losing her train of thought.

"Your hair, it seems to be too dark for a Seren such as myself.” Alisan touched her chest briefly. “I assume your heritage lies with the other tribe. If this was by your renen heritage, then apologies are being offered."

"This isn't about my hair! Did you just call me-"

"Jay, Ali? Do you want another bowl of porridge? There's some left, since Kellen made too much again," Oleander asked the two elfin women.

"Yes, please. Convey my appreciations to the nice Northman." Alisan held up her bowl to the redhead with a smile of gratitude.

"Jay? You too?" Oleander reached a hand out to take Jaden’s bowl as well.

"No. I'm full, thanks." Jaden shot Alisan an angry look. Plump! Now she really was entertaining setting the elf up with Stann!

When Alisan turned back to continue the chat with the mystic, she found the seat empty and the woman already halfway across the camp to wash up after eating. Jaden stopped by Stann on the way, though, and nodded back to where she had been sitting. The warrior didn’t need a second prompting, but easily walked over to the pale elf while running a hand along his short beard. In the other he was carrying the saddlebags he had been packing his belongings into.

"So, ah, I heard you talking about names yesterday, Alisan?" Stann busied himself with his bags as an excuse to linger by the elf's side.

"Yes?" The elf was a bit hesitant around the tall, blonde man, but this time he was acting politely.

"What does your name mean, in elf-speak?"

"It is known to us as Serecean, or Sorunese if you must, not 'elf-speak'. I don't present your... language as 'nordic grunts', do I? Even though I by all rights should," Alisan mumbled the last bit.

"Okay, okay. Serr-EH-shun." Stann raised his hands in defeat or defence.

"It appears as 'sun'. Al is 'eye' in Trade, and isan is 'heaven'." Alisan pointed at the hidden sun and the cloudy sky as she explained.

"But your family name is Summercross. Why do you say that in Trade?" The winter warrior left his bags alone and crossed his arms.

"It's a tradition among the descendants of the Seren elves to use the Trade shape of their family names, to honour the bond we made with the kingdoms of man on the old continent." The elf always got something in her voice when she spoke of her people. Pride or joy, it was hard to tell apart.

"But not your first names?"

"I was not the one to shape the rules, I merely abide by them." Alisan shrugged a little.

Kellen looked up from his book, just now realising there was a discussion of elven culture and language going on.

"Alisan is also your word for the citrus fruit, isn't it?" The rune seeker asked, as he marked his spot in the book with a big finger.

"Ye-es. Shemalisan, sunfruit, but-"

"Wait, your name means LEMON?" Stann interrupted with a big grin on his face.

"No it doesn't!" Alisan frowned, clutching a handful of her riding skirt into a bunch with her fists.

"That explains why you're so sour," the younger of the Northmen laughed.

Alisan growled a little, and kicked Stann in the shins. Her soft shoes made little noise or impact against his hardened leather boots.

"It's an interesting thing, though, the meaning of names," Kellen continued as if he didn't notice his cousin and the elf fighting. "My own name is old Northern for 'source of water' or 'wellspring'. My unfortunate cousin is named after the cliffs of the jagged coast outside Ildym, the Odelstann."

The rune seeker looked around the camp, and pointed to each in turn.

"Let's see. Mirena, that's old imperial Estal for 'Beauty', I believe."

The knight nodded her head with a slight smile. She certainly fit her name.

"I'm a flower," Oleander supplied helpfully.

"Well, technically, you're a bu-"

"I'm a delicate blossom." The redhead scowled at the large Northman.

"Right. Jaden means, of course "of jade". A bit funny. Unless there's another meaning to it from where you grew up, isn't it an Olman tradition to name sons after metals or stones?"

"I wouldn't know, Kel." Jaden shrugged. She had never been that interested in Olmar, except for when Ollie spun interesting stories about her homeland. Though, if you went by them, Olmar was filled with nothing but famous burglars, orphans and greedy merchants.

"I offer apologies, but Jaideen appears as 'she of rain'. Seren origin, despite your dark complexion." Alisan tilted her head little as she studied Jaden's profile, pausing for the moment in trying to stop Stann from calling her a lemon again.

"Funny coincidence, since Jaden's Talram, not Sorunese," Oleander said with a grin.

"What." The pale elf looked nonplussed.

"I've been meaning to tell you, but it never really came up," Jaden rubbed her neck while laughing nervously.

"But that must mean..." Alisan leaned forward with an incredulous expression.

"As I keep telling everyone, I'm not an elf," the black-haired mystic glared at her friends.

"Does 'Rhyce' have any special meaning?" Stann looked to his left at the archer, holding Alisan at bay with a hand to her head.

The borderlander took his time swallowing the last of his food before answering.

"It means 'enthusiasm'," he said with an expressionless face.

"... really?" Stann didn't look as if he bought that explanation.

As one of the towns situated along the southern end of the country, Rosehaven saw a lot of commerce due to its close proximity to the metropolis free city of Tier. It straddled that comfortable distance where it was able to offer some of the luxuries of the golden city to the people of Alband, without actually having to leave their country. There were a number of merchants who made a tidy living by moving goods the relatively short distance across the border. This allowed Rosehaven to keep a standard of goods unusual for a town of its size, and gave it a reputation of a nice place to settle down for your retirement. Having a temple dedicated to Kuros, the Sheltering Hand, made it only a more attractive area, being a place visited by pilgrims or people seeking aid for their afflictions.

Bannor scratched his neatly kept sideburns as he leaned against the doorway. He had already arranged the shelves and dusted the counter. He considered sweeping the floor, but decided against it in favour of digging his favourite pipe out of his belt pouch. A glance at the skies showed a familiar partially overcast Albander sky. Maybe it would rain, maybe it wouldn't.

The storeowner began stuffing his pipe with a nice, locally grown product from the temple gardens. The smoke was supposed to help with the indigestion that had bothered him these last couple of years. He was getting on in years, he supposed, and the festival feast a couple of days ago hadn't helped matters either. Bannor had a hard time turning down those greasy sausages and the candied apples.

As he was considering lunch, a group of travellers passed by his storefront on their way to the south Tierbound road. He was about to head inside to light a wick for his pipe when the flowing black hair of an elven rider caught his eye. He only got a brief look from behind, but it wasn't as if there were all that many elves coming through this way. There was those huge Northmen, too, which must mean that...

"Good day to you, young miss!" Bannor hailed the short redheaded Olman girl riding next to the ladylike brunette in the Tierin riding skirts. He had seen her together with the elf when they had visited his store not a fortnight ago.

"Oh, hello," she slowed down so he could walk next to her horse, looking at him curiously.

"So, did you get that... gift from your friend?" Bannor gave the girl a lecherous wink.

"What? The raisins? Sure, they were good, I guess?" Curiosity was replaced by mild confusion, but then she just waved and urged on her horse to catch up to her friends.

The storeowner was left at the corner of his house, turning his pipe around in his hands. Bannor guessed that the young romance hadn't gone the way that elven boy had wanted, after all. Such a shame, he thought as he returned back inside, they looked cute together, in an awkward way.

A somewhat matronly woman with her greying honey-brown hair in a loose bun was arranging some bouquets by her stand at the side of the town square, her light summer shawl pinned at her shoulder by a copper brooch engraved with a cupped hand. As the travellers drew closer to the marketplace, she put her hands on her hips and gave them a quizzical look.

"I see you found your way back to the haven," she called out to one of the tall, blonde Northmen.

"Imelia! I thought you were stationed in Tier?" Stann nodded at his friends, motioning for them to continue on while he talked with their acquaintance from before. To avoid giving her a strained neck, the warrior slipped off his horse when he stopped next to her table of garlands and fresh flowers.

"I serve the temple wherever I'm needed, you know that." The Albander woman shook an admonishing finger at Stann. "The poor prelate was in such a state when I arrived last week. The package had kept him awake enough as it was, but the news coming back from the village in the Ealbourne gave him even more grey hairs!"

"How is Prelate Matrick doing these days, then?" Stann asked, both out of politeness and respect for the work the prelate was doing.

"He's still sorting out the village right now, although we expect him back within the next day or so. The first acolyte has had to pull the temple's burdens while we're sorting out the mess you left behind over there. The woman’s done a good job of it, but the paperwork is starting to pile up." Imelia was obviously avoiding mentioning Redwall by name, but they knew what she was talking about. Even with the demon dead and gone, as well as its servants scattered or destroyed, the village would take a while to recover from its dread influence.

"Well, at least he'll get the chance to see his brother Samul and the family. Family's important,” Stann said with a wistful note in his throat. He had chosen one member of his family above the others, a choice he never regretted doing, but one he regretted having to do. He missed seeing all of their faces together.

"That it is, and don't you forget it!" Imelia needlessly reminded him with a firm nod that made the bun of her hair bob.

"No, ma'am. You have a nice day now, you old hen, and give our regards to the prelate when he returns," the winter warrior said as he moved to sit up on his horse.

"Buy a flower to support our rebuilding efforts, and you have yourself a deal, Northerner." The older woman nodded pointedly at the stand.

"Done! What are those yellow things, there?" Stann pointed at a vase holding some long-stemmed flowers with soft petals folded into a whirl.

"The Seraali? A rose-like blossom we received as a gift from a Sorunese scholar who visited the temple a while back. She brought a sapling that we managed to nurture in the gardens. A pleasant scent, wouldn't you say?" Irelia fondly brushed a finger along the stem of one of the flowers as she recalled the time.

"A golden, elven rose, eh?"

"You could say that, I suppose."

"I'll take one of those, then!" Stann leaned down from his horse and gave the woman a silver mark, urging her to keep the change as he accepted a single flower. With that, he said his farewells and hurried to catch up with his friends.

By the time he had caught up with them, they had already left the town proper and were heading down the southern road. It was still only early afternoon, and while the idea of staying for food or warm beds in the pleasant town was tempting they had made the decision to not waste any time getting to Tier. From there, with any luck, it would be a more relaxing journey up the Odar.

Stann turned the yellow blossom around in his hands as he brought his hairy northern stallion closer to where Jaden was riding at the rear of the group. Alisan and Mirena was talking about some sort of dance, by what he could understand, and far ahead he could spot Rhyce taking the lead to scout or be left alone. Once he got close enough to the mystic, he sat up a little straighter and offered the sweet-smelling gift with a small flourish.

"Stann... why are you bringing me a flower?" Jaden looked at him in askance.

"I, uh, remembered that you like yellow?" The warrior scratched his neck a little, still holding the flower stretched out between them.

"I do, but... Don't you feel this is, uh, a little strange?" The black-haired mystic eyed the blossom, not knowing what to make of it.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. It was a stupid idea. Here, I'll just throw it away." Stann was about to toss the flower to the roadside when Jaden quickly reached out to put her hand on his wrist.

"No! No. I'll take it. For what it's worth, thank you, Bear. I like it."

"That smile is thanks enough, little... brother." A smile of his own lit up the Northman’s face. It was so easy to forget that Stann really was quite handsome, in that rugged, blonde northern fashion. If the warrior just made more of an effort to act more mature, Jaden could definitely see why many women kept looking his way.

Jaden's smile lost its forced edges, as she brought the blossom closer to her face. She remembered the unbroken rose of midnight, and the promise she had made.

It was later in the evening, when the stores and shops had closed up. Emik had thrown a washcloth over his shoulder as he brought out a fresh plate of flatcakes from the kitchen. It was an appreciated snack for his neighbours coming in to rest their feet after a day working their businesses. At the table closest to the counter sat the seamstress's daughter together with the owner of the dry goods store. Keyla and Bannor were unlikely friends, despite the difference in age and appearance, who shared a joy of idle gossip. Once Emik was sure that his inn would manage itself for a little bit, he joined them and grabbed a cake for himself before they were all gone.

"Now with the festival done with, I guess we'll see more of the regular travelling crowd. Some pilgrims, perhaps?" Bannor puffed away at his pipe as he speculated.

"Maybe we'll get more adventurers? I heard how the Orc tribes in the north are starting to posture again, or how the dwarves of the underkingdom have sent out scouting parties into the hidden paths?"

"You listen to too many strange stories, girl," the older man dismissed the notion with the pipestem in his mouth.

"What of those adventurers that were here some weeks ago? Group like that pretty much had to have been, right?" Keyla pointed out with a clever expression.

"Speaking of which, I saw them pass through again just today,” Bannor countered.

"Really? Say, was that cute elven boy still courting his lovely lady?" The young woman remembered how awkward that boy had been, coming into her shop looking for something cute and lacy as a gift.

"Sadly, the redheaded girl seemed to have rejected him." The storeowner shook his head sadly.

"Redhead? No, he was trying to woo that elegant Tierin woman." Keyla blinked, positive that the lady had been the brunette one.

"What elven boy are you two talking about? The only elf with that group was a girl. I almost walked in on her while she was bathing. She had left the door a little ajar, so I thought she was done." Emik sat down with the two gossips to share what he knew. As an innkeeper, he felt he had to show the two of them how it was done. You heard all kinds of things tending the common room in the evenings.