Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

Barely recovered from the events last night, the group sets out to deliver the obsidian idol to the temple of Kuros in a nearby town. Jaden and Kellen work together to ensure their safety.

Flashback: The cousins Winterheart are faced with an important decision

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Chapter 9: The Lighter Way

STANN AND KELLEN

During the coldest nights of the winter months, it was important to keep the fires burning. The chill would enter a home like a whisper and rob every room of their warmth. It was that cold that brought families together. Winter showed the true meaning of the heart.

The longhouse in the middle of Strom was not a home, however. It was a place where the high chieftain met with his trusted advisors, or made decisions when traditions or laws didn’t provide any answers. This evening was one of those times. Tradition and laws were being challenged, and a decision would be made.

Olev was the leader of the Winterheart clan, and the high chieftain of the Northern Lands. His final word was the law, and sometimes that weighed heavily upon his shoulders. He sat on his throne, made by woodcarvers long since passed into the hall of the ancestors, with his head in his hand. These were the times when he felt the burden of his crown.

In front of him stood two of his clansmen, ready for his decision. He knew them both well, having seen them grow from boys into the men they were today. Their grandfather and Olev’s father had been cousins, he remembered. Not close family, to be sure, but as with any true member of the clan they shared blood.

“From as early as your tenth summer, our shaman could tell us what your path would be, Kellen,” Olev spoke, and the gathering of clansmen listened. “You should be honoured to have been given the privilege of entering into the shamans’ lodge.”

“Yes, chieftain, I am.”

“Even though you still persist with pursuing this southlander magic of yours, instead of focusing on the teachings of our elders?” Olev frowned.

“Yes, chieftain… I am.”

“It will not be allowed!” The high chieftain of the North rose to his feet, easily looking the unusually tall clansman straight in the eye. “The omens have been shown to me by the shaman. It is clear that you will be a powerful spirit-talker to guide the next generation. If you will not abide by the traditions of our clan, then you are not of the clan!”

Kellen looked shaken. He had come before the chieftain expecting a strongly worded suggestion to accept the place as the shaman’s apprentice; he had not foreseen being threatened with banishment.

“Now, listen here, chieftain!” Stann took a step forward. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Kellen and he had grown up together, and being the only two sons of their fathers they were close as brothers.

“Do you question your chieftain, warrior? Then you will share your kinsman’s fate, by his own mouth.” Olev would not be spoken to like that. He was the law of his people. “Speak, Kellen. Will you stand by the clan?”

Kellen stared at his chieftain, then looked at his cousin. He knew Stann had everything here: a place among the warriors, and a newly betrothed. He clenched his hands. The old ways had been forgotten. The traditions the shaman and chieftain spoke of were not from the songs of the ancestors. Seeking the runes that had been lost from the North, maybe he could help recreate the old ways and light the fires of wisdom in these frozen hearts?

Stann watched his cousin struggle with this decision. Even without the high chieftain’s command, he would probably follow Kellen anyway. Women and warriors came and went, but family was forever. He would not blame his cousin. Stann nodded at Kellen, who turned toward the law of their people.

“I have made my decision, chieftain, and I stand by it.”

The building had originally been for workers back in the day when the flying ships from the empire still anchored by the skyspire, but as time passed and the ship grew fewer it fell into disuse. Rothald had been able to get it rather cheaply when he and his family had already purchased the rights to the store for their northern leather goods. While it mostly saw use as extra storage, it also served some of its original intention when clansmen came down from the northern lands with their wagons loaded with furs and skins. Fine tools and thread was much cheaper in Tier than in the north, that his kin stayed here to make their actual products. Rothald then put them up for sale in his store. Spring was always a very busy time in his household, when they were overrun by more than a dozen of his extended family. It helped to hold the homesickness at bay.

Now the old bunkhouse turned storage saw guests again. Darya and the girls were a little annoyed with him, of course. It had only been a few weeks since they had cleaned all the extra linens and put them away for the next spring, but it wouldn’t do to turn away two of his clansmen in need of a place to stay for the night.

Rothald puffed at his pipe as he considered the strange group that had turned up at his door this evening. Two he recognised from earlier that day, of course. Kellen and that little Olman redhead, deep asleep at the time, had asked him for a quiet corner for an hour or so. He had given them the use of his wagon shed with some concern for the girl, but he knew that if anything more was needed, they would surely ask for it.

No, the people that had shown up just earlier were another thing entirely. One was a Tierborn lady, by the sound of her, then another clansman he vaguely recognised from the hall of warriors in Strom. Finally, two more men he couldn’t rightly place since they weren’t talking. The black-haired one looked vaguely Olman, too, and the man with the bow could very well be Albander. A strange collection of faces, to be sure.

Rothald tapped the pipe against his boot before heading back inside. He could hear the bear-marked warrior give a stirring rendition of one of his adventures, keeping the youngest of Rothald’s children in awe.

Jaden lay down as carefully as he could manage. He didn’t even bother removing his clothes, since that might just open up his wounds again. To anyone else, he looked just fine. His mirage veil, a cloth of enchanted silk that hid his true appearance, saw to that. His friends would only see what his magic allowed them to see, and an unfortunate side-effect of him being smaller than the illusion meant that his wounds would also remain unseen.

Not for the first time Jaden wished that he had managed to bind something useful into a pact, like a Tsagoth, or maybe a Lernean — something that would let him heal quickly. That would be nice, he felt. Ignoring the pain, he began to release his remaining magic back through the pact bond. He had been very greedy with his contracted creatures these past few days, and he had to start repaying them. Jaden kept a little for himself, though. The veil still required some to maintain his mask.

He hadn’t bothered lighting any of the oil lamps in the large lodging room, one of four just like it in the building. He could see well enough with only the rays from the setting sun. Jaden shut his eyes and tried to rest, despite the throbbing pain in his side. He had a number of scrapes and cuts all over, but the nethermancer had almost eviscerated him with that spectral blast. Only his illusion had saved him at the time, making the spell partially miss him.

A knock at the open door made him force his eyes back open. Mirena’s silhouette greeted him, as she waited for him to acknowledge her before entering the room set aside for the men.

“You said you might have some broken ribs, earlier,” she mused as she sat down next to him on the bed. “I can help alleviate the hurt, if you will let me.”

Jaden thought for a moment. He couldn’t just keep pretending that he wasn’t hurt. He wouldn’t be able to ride with the wound he had suffered during that fight, and his own bandaging only just kept him from bleeding.

“I need to remove your shirt so I can see the bruising.” She reached out to unbutton his clothes.

Knowing that her fingers would simply pass through the illusion, and cause a very embarrassing situation, Jaden quickly withdrew the tiny flow of magic from his glamourweave kerchief. It was dark enough that she wouldn’t immediately see his features changing, he hoped. He stopped her when she had unbuttoned enough to see where he had dressed his wound. Jaden didn’t want her to see anything else he was hiding underneath his shirt.

Mirena didn’t make any comment, but focused on her task and gently probed the bandage with her hands. When she saw the patches of dried blood, she shook her head sadly.

“Jaden, you should have told me you had been injured,” she admonished him as she carefully removed the strips of cloth.

“It wasn’t that bad, Rena. Just scratches,” he lied. The torn skin on his side told another story.

She moved her mouth in a silent prayer to her god, and a soft glow around her symbol of faith seemed to chase all the pain away. After a little while the only sign of the previous wound was dry smears of blood on his stomach.

“I’m worried about you, Jaden. You look so thin.” Her hand rested on his waist. She couldn’t see his face clearly in the unlit room, but Jaden’s amber eyes could make out every crease of concern on his friend’s.

“I’m okay, Rena. I promise,” he spoke softly. “Thank you for patching me up.”

She left it at that, and left him alone in the darkness.

When he was by himself again, he tore the kerchief off his head and stared at it angrily. He couldn’t decide whether it had been worth it or not. After a while, his irritation subsided and gave way to resignation. He felt the soft silk slip through hands and fall down on his healed stomach. He would have to wear it for the rest of his life, until he found a way to reverse what was happening to him. A way to cheat fate.

He tied the cloth around his head again, and let the remaining trickle of magic return to it. He had no mirror nearby, but his hands filled out as he willed his image back into what it should have been. He couldn’t help himself, though, and let his hands travel up his chest until they bumped into the small swells there. There had to be a way. There just had to.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, such a mundane and reliable thing, but the simple act of sunrise touched him especially deeply that morning. Yesterday had been filled with worry and pain, with fear and death, and here the world just continued along as if it hadn’t meant anything. Sometimes Jaden envied people like Mirena, people who held to faith that strongly. He didn’t know what it felt like, to put your trust in something greater than yourself like that. Every child growing up in Talraman was taught from the moment they could walk that you could trust only in three things in life: your family, your spirit, and the mountain.

Mystics were either born into the tradition in the mountain citadel, or they came from outside, seeking to train under the masters of Talraman. Those who grew up there knew the close bond of their family, echoing the sentiments of togetherness from the time of the wars when the only thing they had were each other. While the living generations hadn’t seen those days, the stories were a part of their blood. You should trust in your family.

As the Mystic initiate grew up and completed her spirit quest, she became a true member of the tradition. The bond between Mystic and spirit was as close to sacred as the Lacunai understood the word. Of all the possible spirits in the dreaming world this one matched your inner nature most, and that allowed your soul to merge with it, becoming something stronger than either of the parts. You should trust in your spirit.

Talraman, the stronghold, the citadel, the heart of the Mystic tradition. It was the one permanent fixture in a life dedicated to change. Above all else, you must trust in the mountain. Jaden tore his eyes from the rising sun and wiped away a tear, whether from the bright light or from a painful memory.

“Everyone ready?” Stann checked the straps on his saddle once more out of habit. “After the hornet’s nest we’ve stirred up, it’ll be good for us to stay clear of Tier for a while.”

“Especially the south gate,” Rhyce added with a sidelong glance at the Northern warrior.

“I agree,” Mirena nodded. “When we confronted the nethermancer, he bragged about how many they were. I doubt they’ll be able to maintain their hold here without him, but enough of their ilk remains that we’d have to look over our shoulders.”

“Also, I understand that the kidnapped maids of the Green Raven ended up in safe hands?” Stann glanced at Oleander, who smirked back. “Something about thugs from the Whitewater cartel making a complete mess out of an alehouse controlled by the Sons in the harbour districts?”

“Maybe so, maybe no. Who knows? Let’s just say that someone told someone else an interesting fact or two about the Sons.” The redhead shrugged innocently. Oleander felt it had been worth giving up a very generous letter of credit and a parcel of quality black zalach. She liked those girls, and didn’t want anything bad happening to them. They had even tried helping her bribe the inn’s cat once.

Jaden looked at the wagon they had borrowed from the cousins’ clansman. Oleander wasn’t quite ready to ride on her own yet, seemingly channelling all her energy into her mouth she sat slumped against the side rails. Kellen had just dragged himself out of bed, put his pack in the wagon, and gone straight back to sleep in it. He had been going for two days on little rest or food, and would need some time to return to his normal self.

“Jaden? Would you like to ride in the wagon as well?” Mirena gave him a pointed look. She had seen his injuries last night before she asked her god to heal him. The wounds had closed, and only some minor bruising showed how he had nearly been severed in two by the nethermancer’s spells.

“Thank you, Rena, but I’m fine. I really am,” he assured her. She looked a little sceptical, but let it slide for now.

Mirena went back to securing her sword next to her saddle. One of the workers going through the ruin of the Sons’ hideout had found her temple-made blade amongst the rubble. It was very dear to her, and she had thanked the blushing man profusely. It was the one thing in the world she had earned by virtue of her own hard work.

Stann took the reins to the wagon and hopped up on the bench. He had helped driving similar wagons back home, and was as close to an expert the group had on such things. As long as he could keep it on the road there would be no complaints from anyone.

With a wave of farewell, they left Rothald and his family. Despite their initial refusals, claiming that they gladly helped another member of the clan, Stann had given them some coin as thanks. It was the least they could do for the hospitality and the extra laundry.

Both Mirena and Jaden remained tense as they rode the same path as they had done the other day. She caught him looking at her, and smiled in return. This time there would be no cultists waiting for them at the corner.

They had started early, to avoid the crowded streets that always happened in the late morning. The ride to their destination up the coast, Rosehaven, would also take two or more days. Most of them didn’t particularly enjoy spending the nights outdoors, though as summer was coming it was much more pleasant. Jaden recalled how they had been stuck in a ruin deep in a forest for the better part of a week during a particularly heavy period of snow last winter. It had been one of the coldest things he had ever experienced in his life. Never before had his fire magic been that popular.

As they reached the north gate that would take them to the road into Alband, Mirena slowed down and looked back at her home. She was Tierborn, and it always pained her a little to leave her golden city.

“Come on, milady, we have many miles to go before you can claim homesickness!” Stann laughed from the wagon, and took the lead with a snap of the reins.

“Stand tall and shine, towers of Tier,” Mirena whispered as she urged her horse to catch up with her friends.

The changes in the scenery were gradual, but they hadn’t travelled far before they saw the unmistakable rolling hills of Alband. Further north the trees would begin, stretching out into the famously deep forests. Even further north the evergreens would take up a larger proportion, eventually replacing the deciduous trees. They wouldn’t need to go that far, though. Rosehaven was one of the closest villages — small town, really — to Tier. Even with the slower moving wagon, they should be there by tomorrow evening if the weather held up. Alband was notorious for sudden rains.

Rhyce had long since gone on ahead, ever acting the scout. The rest of the group rode on in relative silence, except for Jaden and Mirena sometimes exchanging some words.

“I didn’t think of you when I said that,” Mirena suddenly confessed. She looked uncomfortable.

“Said what?” Jaden was confused. They had been talking about the Rosehaven temple a while earlier, so her change of subject came as a surprise.

“When we were held by the Sons of Husk, I was prepared to give my life if it meant stopping their plans, and saving innocent lives.” She looked at her riding gloves. “I didn’t mean to include you in that. I didn’t even think of it at the time.”

“Mirena, that’s alright. After rolling it around a little in my head… In a way, I’m even a bit honoured.” Jaden gave her a reassuring smile he even felt. It was good to be honest for once.

“What do you mean?” Now it was her turn to look confused.

“It means that you, at some level, treated me like you would any other knight of your order. I didn’t feel you were sacrificing me. I felt like I was your peer.”

“That’s… Jaden, that’s a very kind thing to say, but I-“ she began. He interrupted her by shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it, Lady Kaladon,” he joked, using an outrageous Tier nobleman accent.

“As you say, Sir Tarasov,” she laughed as he did a poor imitation of a knightly salute. They rode on in silence, but with light hearts.

As lunch came, even the skyspire of Tier had disappeared behind the hills of Alband. They stopped by the side of the road, and brought out the food Darya had thoughtfully provided them with. It was simple and hearty, just like the people of the North liked it. The midday sun and the fresh winds coming in from the sea made it easy to forget that they were still on a very important mission.

Kellen had woken up a couple of hours ago, probably from his cousin’s poor wagon-driving. After they had stopped for lunch, the two had been rather excited about something they had found tucked away in the wagon next to the feeding bags for their horses. Apparently, their clansman back in Tier had left them a parting gift.

Among the various bags and packs in the wagon, was the otherwise inconspicuous sack containing their dreadful cargo. Jaden and Kellen found themselves side by side and staring at it when they were rearranging the load.

“We should probably do something about this. It doesn’t feel safe to leave it in the sack like that. One touch was all it took to almost kill Oleander,” Jaden craned his head back to look at the head and shoulders taller rune seeker.

“Hmm. Now that we won’t have to consider its influence on our little fox over there, I could probably use a more powerful rune of warding. Like in the legend ‘the Hall of the Mountain King’, where Tyron Wolfstone hid the giant king’s sadness inside his shield.” Kellen always had a special timbre in his voice when he spoke of the Northmen’s stories.

“I think I’ve heard that one, actually,” Jaden realised. “You want to hide something terrible inside a normal object. Well, if your runes can do that, what’s stopping us?”

“Power, mostly. Don’t get me wrong, Jaden; I’m as strong as they come, but sealing away evil is often left to a circle of shamans back home.”

“Is it because the spell requires the extra magic?” Jaden didn’t have a whole lot of that to offer until his debts to the salamander had been repaid.

“It’s more to overcome the power of the artefact, in this case. Mirena and I together were just barely enough to give Oleander a fair fight.”

“Well, we’re not trying to break it, just create a container that will make it safe enough to handle. What if the artefact wasn’t as strong anymore?”

“How do you mean?” Kellen crossed his arms, interested in what the young Mystic had to say.

“The artefact is a ritual focus, right?” Jaden watched the Northman nod. “That means it has its own repository of death magic.”

Kellen nodded again and waved him on. The debate was merely academic so far.

“If I can… weaken its magic,” Jaden reflexively glanced to the sides. He knew nobody nearby would be able to connect the dots, but years of having secrecy drilled into him was hard to ignore. “If I can lower its strength, you should be able to complete your seal, right?”

“Certainly. But it begs the question… if you could do this, why didn’t you from the start?” Kellen had a bushy eyebrow raised, not in accusation but in honest interest.

“I didn’t really know what we were getting into at the time,” Jaden shifted his weight around a bit, and then added with a mumble. “And various other reasons…”

“I see. Well, let me dig up my old sealing runes and we shall see what we can do.”

As Kellen busied himself with going through his many belt pouches for the tools of his trade, Jaden began a series of mental exercises. It was almost like how he opened himself to the pulse of magic that flowed through the world, how he could distinguish the threads of different styles. It was similar to that, but instead of opening his inner eyes, he reached out with his inner hands.

The very core of the Lacunai tradition was in understanding the flow and form of magic. Making a bond to allow that magic to run both ways between themselves and the target of their pact was just one expression of this; a historically recent addition, in fact. In older days, there had been no pact, no mutual benefit. The Lacunai had simply taken what they wanted. That had led to strained relationships with greater entities, and most of the other magical societies of the world. Accords had been made and enforced to make sure those days didn’t repeat themselves. This didn’t mean the technique wasn’t still taught, though, just that it must remain a last resort.

“I have what I need. Do you want to attempt this before we sit back up? The others are still cleaning up after our lunch.” Kellen had returned, and cast a broad shouldered shadow over the back of the wagon.

Instead of answering, Jaden set his Mystics’ sight on the carefully wrapped obsidian skull. He could almost see it through the burlap cloth. The strands of darkness were coiled tightly inside the bag. Hatred of life just out of sight.

“Siphon.” Jaden held out his hands with his fingers splayed toward the bag, almost as if he was catching something thrown at him. In a way, he was. The dark strands began to vibrate and jerk. One by one they slipped free of the icon and trickled toward his outstretched hands.

Kellen couldn’t see anything, but he saw the look of concentration on his friend’s face. He heard a faint, ghostly moaning in the air. Something was happening, that was sure.

“Do it now, Kellen. I’m contesting it for its magic,” Jaden spoke through clenched teeth. He had handled nethermancy before, but he could never get used to the oily feeling. That was probably a good thing. The dark threads coiled in a thick web around his hands.

The rune seeker didn’t drag his feet, but placed his inscribed stones in a circle around the bag. With the remaining two runes in either hand, Kellen called upon the power of the land to imprison this blight upon the world. The ground underneath them yielded a clump of clay that engulfed the skull, bag and all. Kellen completed the seal with a warding rune drawn on the hardening surface of the melon-sized sphere.

“It’s done. This should hold more than long enough for us to deliver it to the temple. Likely, it will hold for hundreds of years. Well done, Jaden.” Kellen reached out to give the shorter man a friendly pat on the shoulder. Jaden quickly backed away from him, and shook his head in warning. “Jaden?”

“I’m holding quite a lot of really dark magic, Kel. I need to get rid of it before I’m safe to be around.” Jaden kept holding his hands out, as if he was handling a poisonous snake. They looked around the campsite. There was the road they came on, and further inland pastures and farms would appear. Toward the sea, a small cliff led down to a rocky beach.

“As good as any place, I suppose?” Kellen nodded toward the craggy shore.

Jaden walked up to the edge of the cliff, as Kellen remained behind. He didn’t enjoy heights at all, even small ones. With a shake of his hands he released the black strands he had caught, and they ran like thick tar down on the sand and pebbles of the beach. Jaden could see how some grass and tiny seaside flowers wilted as the taint left him. Nature would recover, given time.

“Well, that was unpleasant,” he said as they returned to the wagon and their friends.

“But our work is done. We won’t have to worry about accidentally triggering that evil thing now,” Kellen raised his hand toward his friend hesitantly.

“It’s alright, Kel. You can touch me now.” Jaden said before he realised how it might sound.

Oleander peeked up from on top of the wagon and gave them an innocent look.

“Have you boys been touching each other?”

“Shut up, Ollie.”

It had been a slow day, which they had welcomed. They had met a couple of other travellers along the northbound road as they rode deeper into Alband, but most had been farmers on errands, though a couple had been pilgrims on their way back from the Rosehaven temple. A true follower of the five gods made a point to visit all of the established temples during their lifetime, a pilgrimage that could take quite a while to complete which is why most did it in portions.

As evening caught up with them they once more took to the side of the road to set up their camp for the night. It was a nice enough place with a small group of trees nearby where they found a small stack of firewood. A considerate previous occupant must’ve left some for them, and as the Northmen began to start a fire Rhyce spent most of the evening replacing what they had taken with freshly cut pieces that he would leave out to dry for the next visitors.

Oleander sat on the back of the wagon and watched the men make everything ready. She was still feeling a little off, but that was just to be expected, she guessed. From her perch, she could see the archer tirelessly chopping new wood for the fire.

“Hey, Jay?” She called out, and saw the black-haired Mystic stepping into the light of the fire. Where had he been going? “Do you think Rhyce is looking a little bit happier than usual?”

“I’m not sure I see any difference,” Jaden admitted after they had watched Rhyce working for a while.

“Well, clearly I’m a better judge of human behaviour than you are, pointy-ears,” Oleander decided, swinging her legs a bit as she sat on the edge of the wagon.

“I’m not an elf, Ollie.”

“Yeah, sure,” she waved her hands dismissively at her friend. “Do you know what I think?”

“It’s one of my greatest fears,” Jaden teased back.

“I think he missed the outdoors. You know how at home in the wilds he is. All this being cooped up in cities made him grumpy. Grumpier.” Oleander’s analysis was flawless.

“Actually, the reason he’s so happy is because of how quiet everything was when you was unconscious. He got to rest his ears for most of two days!” Jaden explained how it really was.

The redhead stuck her tongue out at her friend. They noticed how the sound of chopping had stopped, and looked over at Rhyce. He was watching them across the campsite, and slowly raised his hand in a thumbs-up gesture. He had heard every word. Oleander couldn’t help but blush a little. It was easy to forget just how keen that man’s hearing was.

While Jaden and Oleander was arguing as usual, the cousins had taken it upon themselves to handle the supper. They had caught some fat and sleepy Albander hares earlier that day, and busied themselves by the fire. While they were preparing the meal, an old song from the North came to their lips. It was something their grandmother had used to sing when she was cooking, and it brought back memories of home. Kellen brought out the cooking pots to begin this family recipe.

Mirena had just finished taking care of her armour when she saw them huddled together. Having the Northmen do the cooking was almost as bad as leaving it to Oleander. Last time they promised a truly Northern experience, they had simply stuck a few knives into a roasted boar and claimed that dinner was served. To this day they still claim that was a much beloved, traditional fare in their homelands. How the entire culture hadn’t succumbed to malnutrition by now was beyond her.

They must’ve sensed her watching them, and eagerly beckoned her closer.

“Fear not, milady! We’re not above accommodating the needs of our delicate southern neighbours. We brought some greens this time!”

Mirena inspected the selection. The row of bottles wearing Northern markings did not make her happy.

“This is kulsu, Stann. That’s beer. Not vegetables.”

“Though partially made from vegetables, yes?” Stann looked much too cheerful. She gave him a hard look.

“You have got to be joking. Kellen, please talk some sense into your cousin.”

Both men looked at each other with childlike innocence, and shrugged.

“Clearly she doesn’t appreciate the essence of true Northern cooking, Stann.” Kellen shook his head sadly.

“Now, look here-“ Mirena began. Kellen leaned back and nodded toward the second pot with carrot and potato stew already prepared to be put over the fire.

She stared at it for a little bit, her expression softening.

“You two are really hilarious when you have too much time on your hands. Never change, you brutes.” She kissed their heads and returned to making sure her sword and shield were still in good shape. The cousins chuckled, and continued skinning and cleaning the hares.

Oleander watched all this from the wagon, and smiled. It was good to be with her friends again.

Jaden sat back and closed his eyes. After supper, Kellen had taken to reciting the legend of the Tyron Wolfstone, inspired by their earlier talk. The story he was painting with words came alive in Jaden’s imagination. The Northman had a wonderful voice, both deep and clear. It was as if the words that left his mouth didn't bother to go through your ears, but directly into your heart. He could listen to Kellen talk for hours.

It was a story of the North, a brave hero, a perilous quest, an evil foe - and the love interest, of course. Though, as was the tradition, she was hardly mentioned after she left the hero's sight. She didn’t really matter in the story. Jaden grimaced a bit, then wondered about why he felt the way he did. After a while, he pushed the whispers of confusion deeper back out of his mind, and tried to listen to the tale instead. Even if he didn't like the story, he enjoyed the telling of it.

To the other side of the fire sat the knight. She was barely listening to Kellen’s story, being a bit lost in her own thoughts.

"Hey girl. How are you holding up after all that business in Tier?" Oleander eased herself down next to Mirena with a sigh. She still wasn't back to full strength. Whatever that curse had done to her, it had really left a lasting impression. They had told her that it was probably a killing curse, and that she only had her freckled luck to thank that they had been able to pull her back from the threshold.

Mirena smiled at the redhead. She was happy she wasn't the only woman in the group.

"There is no need to worry about me, Oleander. Telum grants me strength, and my injuries have long since faded." Mirena had loosened her braid, and was brushing her hair out for the evening.

"I wasn't talking about those kinds of hurts, panzer-panties." Oleander leaned over and held her hand over Mirena's heart. "Those gnollspit sods held you for hours. I don't want to think about what they did to you two."

The knight let her hand fall down to her lap, and turned the brush around a few times.

"It was bad. I knew they wouldn't let us go, even if you gave them the skull. I accepted that we might not leave that place alive... but I was still afraid."

Oleander brought them together with a one-armed hug across the shoulder.

"It's okay. You're still human. It's alright to feel. No matter how much steel you carry around to prove your point, you're still a person on the inside."

"Thank you, I guess. You're still not very good at these kinds of talks, though." Mirena smiled. Oleander rolled her eyes. "You're looking brighter, however. Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah. Still feel a little faint, so no upside down action for me for another few days, I think."

"You know, I definitely recall asking you to let Jaden inspect the skull before you grabbed it." Mirena scolded gently. She was a kind person at heart, but she also had a need to rub things in from time to time.

"He did! He totally did, and said it was alright to take. I guess he could've said 'a blighted mistake', but why would he talk like that?"

The women turned and looked at Jaden, sitting with Stann and Rhyce while Kellen was standing before the fire to deliver the legend.

"What did you do, Jay?" Stann wondered.

"Eh? What?"

"The girls are glaring at you."

Was she dreaming again?

She almost bumped into someone when she turned around.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. The crowd pressed against her as she made her way back to the table. There were many chairs, but only a single person was waiting for her.

"Did you have any trouble?" A hand went up to brush the black hair down over the pointed ears.

Oleander set down the tankards she carried in either hand. Her fingers had itched as she moved through that crowd. If she hadn't had her hands full, she would have been sorely tempted to lighten someone's purse.

"I asked around, but the barkeep didn't know of any other adventuring sorts that were between jobs." She sighed and sat down. Jay reached over and slid one of the tankards closer.

"Well, that's alright. We've been doing fine on our own so far. We can continue doing our thing, Red."

"You and me against the world, Jay?" She smiled a little. She didn't mind that idea too much.

"That was a little unintentionally sappy, wasn't it?" He laughed, and took a long drink. It hurt her a bit, but she was used to not letting it show.

"Heh, yeah. I meant that we'll be fine. A few fighting types wouldn't be bad to have, but at least we can outwit anything we go up against, right?"

"Definitely, and if it comes to it, there's nothing my spirit sorcery can't defeat. Just believe in me, Ollie, and I'll keep us safe." He gave her a full smile this time. She leaned over and brushed some ale foam from his mouth.

"I do," she said, softly. "I do believe."

"There's nothing to be afraid of." His voice sounded a little strange. Not bad, but more melodic than she remembered it. There was something about Jay. Almost...

"Are these seats taken?" A Northern accent woke her up, and she looked up at a rugged man holding out one of the chairs for a woman with long, brown hair. Two other men stood behind them, with several tankards of their own.

"No, they're free. Please join us."

The room suddenly felt so bright.