Curse

Rekiara Malevu · Feb 14, 2008, 08:42 PM // 20:42

I'd like to pop in and say a couple things. Firstly, thank you for sharing your writing, I am really enjoying it. Secondly, I would like to compliment you on your storytelling. You've done a very good job creating characters that have depth to them and then using those characters to drive a very excellent alternate perspective of the Prophecies story.

Overall, this (all three stories actually, but they flow together smoothly enough that it feels like one) is definitely a 5 star story and I am looking forward to reading more. Thanks again!

Divine Freak · Feb 15, 2008, 01:10 AM // 01:10

Minus lives after all. Glad to cya back here again Minus

Monk of Demise · Feb 15, 2008, 06:34 PM // 18:34

This is literally one of the best stories i have ever read, keep up the good work.

Minus Sign · Feb 16, 2008, 12:32 AM // 00:32

*25*

Colin watched for a space of heartbeats. Outwardly, Faith was calm. She folded her arms beneath her breasts to keep warm as she studied the two passes beyond. She appeared a commanding presence as she weighed her options. But he could feel her trepidation through the group link. It was muffled—she was trying to shield herself like Alia—but there. The others took it as she might have hoped; Faith was worried over their possibilities and simply calculating their next course. Colin, who had grouped with Alia many times before, knew different. Shielded as she was, any emotion coming through the group link was a bad sign; it suggested she was on the verge of losing control. He looked at Alia, got a silent nod. The mesmer knew shields better than he ever would. She knew what his worries were as well.

Grendich had been a bad place for everyone, but Faith had suffered hard. She’d nearly died—had died in fact—and nearly gotten her team killed (and that’s what really rubbed against the woman’s grain in Colin’s estimation) and getting out had been no picnic. Her whole command experience, all of her best—most ruthless decision making skills—had been honed and targeted in two areas: keep her team alive and kill Char. One of those targets was now miles away. The other…Colin knew this was a suicide mission. Would she be able to push on knowing that the people she most cared about were going to die?

Would those same people follow him if she couldn’t? he looked at Stephan and Kali. They were helping secure Olivia to the stretcher, oblivious to his concerns, trusting in Faith. Melody…the little woman was too crazy to guage. She’d follow anyone if Faith told her to, but she’d flip out if Colin had to do something violent to take command.

So would the others. Alia would back him. He knew she would, shield or no. But the other three would follow Faith, and Idiot was loyal, but no match for Stephan. It was four against 3 at best. I can’t start no mutiny. Not with nothing but a mesmer at my back. Kali’s prob’ly still sore bout what I done to Muscles anyway; I try and she’d flash her own GL pin, outvote me in one breath and hogtie me the next.

He looked at Faith, then at the gathering flurry of snow in the left fork. The storm was beginning to howl out that way; soon they’d have no choice but to take the Summit. Was Faith waiting her decision on that? Was she hoping Melanru would force her hand? We’re out of time.

“We’re out of time,” echoed in a whisper and Colin jerked. He hadn’t spoken. Faith looked up, her arms still folded under her breast and stared Colin in the eye. There was a heat there he had not seen when she bowed her head. Not fear; fire. The woman looked pissed. Alia’s eyebrow quirked slightly as Faith turned from her contemplation, addressing the group at last.

“The south route is likely the most poorly defended because of those Dryders,” she said. “If the Summit haven’t secured that area against animal incursion, then they don’t have it locked down against us.

“Mhenlo’s right,” she concluded, her confidence shaky through the group link, her presence denying any fright. “Fighting animals is going to be better than storming an organized defense. And if the Summit have decided to clear the area out and shore it up, they’ll be worn from fighting those things and easier to push back.

“The left fork is our best course.”

“Snows coming in hard that way,” Kali offered. Olivia was strapped securely to the stretcher and Cynn was huffing slowly away under her burden, a hand still hovering near Mhenlo as he glanced back one last time at the six who would go on. “It may make the going slow.”

“And make us harder to track if they send patrols after us,” Faith said, not disagreeing. “It’s why I had you spec in fire magic for this hop Kali. I know it’s a waste to have you Flaring every other step, but if the drifts get to deep you can melt us a path. If not, we have our movements covered.”

“One thing I do know about those Dryders,” Colin offered, and Faith turned to him. She still looked ticked off, but it was undirected rage. She was wasn’t glaring specifically at him, he realized. She was mad at herself. For what, he didn’t know yet—maybe for beng afraid; Faith didn’t seem the type to like the taste of fear—but the fury gave her focus as sharp as Stephan’s axe. “There’s reason the ones up here are called Frostbites. They like it in the slop; like to hide ina storm, suck on you when you can’t see what’s doing it. Was a dwarf up at the bend—don remember his name—only had three fingers on his left hand. They’d et em down to bone and he’d never noticed til he was home and had his mits off.”

“If nothing else, they’ll give me a chance to study their natural Defile,” Faith said, smiling tightly. Her lips became impossibly paler with the smirk. “It’s rare to see animals that use necromancer mana as effectively as these seem to; even their crude version of this spell will give me insight of how to duplicate it later. And besides,” she waved her hand around her, gesturing at nothing. It was only her feral face that told the ranger she was pointing to her—currently non-existent—horde. “They’re not the only hungry necro out here today.”

Minus Sign · Feb 16, 2008, 12:49 AM // 00:49

Quote:

Originally Posted by Divine Freak

Minus lives after all. Glad to cya back here again Minus

It was a near thing for a while there, but yeah. Sorry for the wait; 26 should be up this weekend.

EDIT: or I could burn some midnight oil and finish it tonight.

Minus Sign · Feb 16, 2008, 03:14 AM // 03:14

*26*

Colin only nodded, whatever personal war the ranger had been fighting within himself while she fought down her own fear subsiding as quickly as it had begun. Faith pointed to the pass, motioning him to take point. Then to the others, “Let’s move it people; storms coming up fast and we still have a hard walk in this mess.”

There was no argument. Stephan grabbed his axe and hefted it on his shoulder, taking the lead of the small group. Kali was right beside him, her sword out and ready in her hand. Alia slipped into her pack as she walked, pulling a long red shawl from her bags and, an afterthought, a thick woolen green as well. She wrapped her head in the thinner red shawl, handing the other to Melody. Faith shook her head when the mesmer glanced in offer, and she called up toward the two melee fighters. “Are you cold Kal-ee? I have an axtra shawl if oo are.”

The elementalist looked back, a small smirk on her face. “Its Kali,” she corrected halfheartedly, “and no. Elementalists haven’t a need to fear heat or cold very much. Especially when we spec for ice or fire. But if you’ll come up closer, I’ll keep you three warm.” She smiled and, putting words to action, the snow at her feet began to mist and sizzle. Faith stepped closer, feeling heat come off Kali in soft waves. It did not block out the bitter chill of the snow storm they were walking into, but Faith could still feel her fingers on the staff, her toes would not fall off soon. Melody moaned appreciatively, trotting up to Kali with a smile and intertwining their arms as they walked. Alia laughed musically, clustering closer as well.

Faith stayed where she was, on the edge of the heat and in the rearguard, glancing from side to side as they walked. The feel of the heat was only a few steps away from Kali in any direction. The sense of her mana could drift three times as wide. And it left a trail, Faith noted, seeing the icy footprints in the snow where the elementalist stepped. She almost called Kali down, told her to tamp it some. But the look of joy on Melody’s face as she looked dreamily back stopped her. There were too few pleasures to be had in a Special Team; she wouldn’t take this one away without cause. Not yet at least.

“So that’s why all yall eles can wear such flimsy crap on top of a mountain,” Stephan chided.

“Shuddup,” Kali rebuked, cuffing at the back of his head. Melody grabbed her arm again as it came back down, snuggling appreciatively. Stephan chuckled. “Besides, I thought you liked my ‘flimsy crap’.”

“Oh,” Stephan smiled, “I do. I really—” Faith laughed quietly as the warrior’s sense suddenly shifted. It was a mental scream from him: STRONG STABLE PATIENT PROTECTIVE STRONG STABLE PATIENT PROTECTIVE.

“Stephan,” Faith called to him, Kali hiding a smile, “I think Mel knows why you spend so much time alone with Kali now.”

The warrior blanched, the mantra falling to a whisper. Melody nodded, craning her neck to look up at him with a smile. “You’re her beau,” the monk said simply. Then, a rare form of insight for Melody, she let go of Kali’s arm, slipping to the other side so as not to be between them. “You wanna snuggle? I can hold her other arm if you wanna; it was just that she was so warm all a sudden and she fells so good!”

Alia laughed, a hearty guffaw. Stephan’s face had turned bright red as melody spoke, his mantra a paper shield against the emotions he exuded toward the elementalist when he was not aware.

“I need my sword arm free, Mel,” Kali said, smiling slyly at the warrior in his anguish. “Its okay; you can snuggle me if you want to.” She winked at the warrior and Faith stifled a giggle at what she felt through the group link, “He can ‘snuggle’ later.”

The warrior grumbled to himself, ire suffusing the group link. “Not just outnumbered, but surrounded. On all sides! Where’s Colin when ya need em; something ta even the odds.”

“Speak of a demon and Styigian find you,” Faith said, pointing with her bone staff. The feel of the group link twisted as Colin came close. They knew where he was before they saw him, a dark strip of thickness in the airy white around them. Faith glanced around. With Kali heating them so and Stephan occupying her thoughts, she had not noticed the storm’s steady increase. She rebuked herself. The rearguard was as important as the fore. She should have been watching, not hawking on the warrior.

The thin strip of dark resolved into the Colin, covered in white, an icy stain of breath coving his mask as he waded into them. Idiot pounced into the group, shaking white powder like a wet dog. The stalker growl/purred, slinking around to walk beside Kali as well.

“Steph,” Colin coughed, spitting at his mask as he pulled it—he had to pry, it was partially frozen to his facial hair—away, “take the point for a minute. Faith, little talk?”

“Back here; keep walking,” and, reluctantly, “Kali that does feel good but I can taste your mana this close; take it down a few degrees or we’ll be surrounded before we know it.”

“Trouble?” Colin nodded. “Dryders?”

Colin put his hands under his armpits as he made his report, stamping hard to shake off the excess snow that covered him. “There’s nothing stirring in this mess; anything sane’s hunkered down for the storm. I seen a few Dryders; we’d a small pack trailing us for a minute and I almost came back to warn you. But they didn’t like what they saw. I know it’s against the grain with us trying to sneak through, but I don’t think those things like the heat; might be best if you let Kali fire back up when we finish at the bridge.”

“Noted,” Faith said, all business. “What’s at the bridge?”

“Summit,” Colin said, the word coming out like “snow” if he’d been describing the weather. “Two patrols and a light guard. They’re fired up too in a way. the golems are sucking in the cold air, drawin it out; and they've a peck of torches on poles to both sides. Fires’ll make it hard for em to smell us comin. Or see us.”

“Got anything on their numbers?”

The ranger managed a smirk, his teeth chattering. “Three Ice Golems, two Howlers, another damn sage and—choo!—pardon. The sage and…four warriors. Two axe, two hammer. They’ve another doylak rider with them too; monk. That’s the guard. Patrols are five man; I saw one; got close enough to smell em. Sage, two howlers, two warriors: hammer and axe. The other I couldn’t get as close to; they’re across the bridge, and sweeping down a path on the other side, but they look the same configuration as the first patrol. Maybe a ranger, but if there is he sucks. They never even twitched.”

“How far out does the first patrol sweep away from the guard post?”

“Close enough they’ll feel the mana when we start to fight; far enough they won’t hear em scream,” he cupped his hand to his ear, and Faith understood. The wind was begging to howl, a mournful wail that tore at her clothes and raked her spine as they walked the bare edge of Kali’s heat bubble. “It’s a set pattern too; one sweep every five minutes up and down the path. They didn’t deviate…and I can’t blame em in this.”

Faith nodded, already formulating a plan in her mind. “How far?”

“Believe it or not, we’re almost there. If the maps the Yak’s Bend dwarves gave us are true, we’re past half way.”

“Alright,” Faith said, pulling Colin up to the group, speaking quietly but clearly, “we’ve got a few fights ahead of us; nothing we can’t handle. Colin; lead us to the south edge of the first patrol while I fill the rest of us in. Kali; turn it off.”

“Off,” the elementalist blanched. “All the way off?” Melody moaned again, this time a guiltless pout. She tugged at the green—now wet—shawl wrapped about her head, handing it to Kali in her thin garb. Alia shrugged off her red shawl as well, pulling her enchanters robes close.

“All the way off.”

Minus Sign · Feb 20, 2008, 02:40 AM // 02:40

*27*

“I wanna drink!”

“O shadap fer something ears ye.”

The sage in the center of the group shook his head, an annoyed smirk creasing his wide face. He scratched a bulbous nose with the back of his hand and listened to the two warriors up front grouse at each other and—by default—him. Shasha, he said in his mind, a mockingly parental—husband to wife—tone, The Twins are at it again.

“I say we slip back early,” the hammer warrior growled discontentedly. Beyond their weapons there was nothing to discern the two warriors—Grork and Mork—apart. A human eye would have viewed Grork, the hammer warrior, with fear. Impossibly wide arms, thick as tree stumps, swayed back and forth as he walked; forcing the leather jerkin he wore to creak in the cold air. His face was misshapen. Squashed flat and stretched out. The thick nose sniffled over the thick, copper-wire beard covered in ice from his breath and his black eyes glinted in the snow with a vicious slant below unkempt bangs of bushy hair and thick, twig sized eyebrows the shade of mud. To Gindrel, however, Grork and his twin brother looked like two particularly large dwarves. Humans simply did not understand the finer points of dwarf physic. Most manthings would never—without careful analytical study of the subject anyway—understand that to dwarves Grindel would be what they call a “pretty boy” of their own kind, slick black beard and hair making him a dashing and debonair dwarf; his coal dark eyes just as round as his nose, with a slim pouting mouth when he smiled. “We pack up with the guard and get to the golems. They’ll suck the cold right out of us; by gum, and let the fires do the rest.”

“Yeah?” Gindrel asked, finally injecting himself in the conversation, “and Torit’ll have mah hairy ass if we don’t finish our sweep in full. Thank you very much no.”

“Always talking about your damn ass,” Mork growled, “I’m getting sick of it.”

Gindrel shrugged, flashing his best smile; proud of the fact. Shasha had agreed to marry him because of that hairy behind. He knew for a fact; she had been quite forward after she had sneaked a peak at him when he went to bathe—she and several other young ladies he was fond of chasing in his spare time. Once he’d done his bit to push Ironhammer and his ilk from Deldrimor, the Stone Summit would pay him handsomely. Grendil could set up a modest rune trading outpost at the edge of the old city then, and settle down to make money by day and babies by night.

He should be proud.

“Don’t care if it’s at the bridge or out here,” Mork grumbled, “I wan ale! S’to cold to be walking about in this mess with nothing in the furnace. Ural’s Piss I want a flagon so--”

“If you hadn’a gulped yer brew fer ye marched, ye’d still have something a douse yer mouth with,” Grork rebuked.

“Not that we wouldn’t mind it,” one of the howlers behind mumbled. Grendil drummed his fingers on his thigh, moving them to keep them warm. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember the young chap’s name. Chowline…he’d talked to him once before in the chowline. Since seeing the necromancer again Grendil had racked his brain to summon the name again—he was usually good with names—but the word escaped him. “Stuff a cork or a bottle in there; either’s fine by me.”

“You say somethin?” Mork accused. Grendil’s estimation of the dwarf increased a point. Lazy drunkard or not, the axe swinger had good ears to hear anything in this howl.

“He said,” Grendil grouched, “that he’ll be happy to pass you a flagon when we get back to the bridge—on time. And I too, if it’ll shut you up about it.”

“Well then!” Mork fairly beamed, the wide mouth splitting his face in half, wide teeth gleaming, “I’m with you Grork! Lets make beat our way back to the bridge and have done! Nothing coming out in this mess anyway, we canbe back in no time if we hurry. Yes! A warm flagon and a warm torch; good enough comfort for a cold night’s duty!”

“After,” Grendil snapped, “we finish our sweep warrior. After we get back and Torit sends the next group of suckers out here, then I will give ye some brew. Savy?”

“Ugh-guhhuh muh. Ah!”

“What?”

“Savy.”

“Its not as bad as your moaning makes it,’ the other howler said, receiving twin glares for his tongue. Urgon—Grendil had never met the dwarf before and had no trouble asking his name—smiled at the two warriors, unabashed. The fellow was too damn cheery to be a necro in Grendil’s estimation. Then again, this was weather fit for an icy grave; maybe it was Urgon’s version of a cool spring day? “We’re already near the turning back point; nearly half done already. If you two concentrate on the road before we’ll be back in no time and you’ll have your fla--”

“Shaddap!” twin voices barked.

“Couldn’t agree more,” a voice seemed to whisper through the howl of the whiteout and Grendil flinched as if struck. A wheezing cough escaped him as pain lanced through his middle and the mesmer realized he had been struck. Looking down at himself , he stared inconceivably at the thin, feather hilted shaft that protruded from his stomach. A scream at his right and Grendil jerked to look at Nameless. The howler dropped to his knees, another arrow sticking from the man’s face.

“Attack! Attack! We’re under attack!” Grendil roared. “Mork run warn the guard post! Grork take the fore; hold them here until your brother gets away!”

At least, that is what Grendil wanted to say. In his mind, the voice was commanding, his presence calm even with an arrow in his stomach, grating backribs and leaking fluids into his innards. All that escaped his throat was a peeping “Ugh!”, he staring dumbly at Mork and Grork as the two warriors stared dumbly at the whiteout around them, at him. His hands found the arrow shaft, clutching the thin wood inside him.

MOVE! was all he could mange through the group link.

Another arrow streaked out of the white “Archers!” Urgon screamed at last, the third arrow missing him by inches as he dove into the ankle deep soft packed snow. Grendil felt mana begin to seep into the air. Fire mana; a powerful burst of energy from the whiteness. No; now that he understood everything that was happeneing, his mind and eyes seemed to clear. He could “see” the form standing in the snow just in spellcasting range, feel the powerful energies the body was summoning from within itelf to manipulate the world around them. “Fail” he tried to call, but his mind was unfocused, confused and diverted by pain and—I’m Hexed! the guilt of being taken so unaware creeping through him. His interrupt failed.

“Alarm!” Grork roared, his massive arms swinging the heavy hammer in a slow arc before him, the warrior pushed away from

They can’t hear you in this wind, Grendil rebuked, The gurad post can’t hear you in this wind! Send someone back to warn. WARN! Get help—WARN! and Grendil felt a tear freezing to his face, praying through the group link that they could understand his orders.

“Urgon!” Mork screamed aloud and through the link, “Get off your face and to the bridge!” Not Grendil’s choice, but if Urgon got there quickly, it could still work out. It Torit came they still had a chance to be healed. If not healed, Grendil was not so badly damaged. He could be resurrected. If…

But it was already too late. Idiot exploded from the mound at Mork’s feet, a roaring Stephan exploding up beside him, axe already slashing into dwarf flesh as Grork swung hammer to meet axe. Three warriors strained with effort and the stalker clamped down on Mork’s forearm, snarling viciously as teeth tore past leather, into flesh.

“The necro Kali,” a squeaky voice ordered, and Grendil could only watch as Urgon reeled backward, a fiery orb of pure heat splashing outward from his body. Grendil was barely conscious of the heat that licked his side as well; the fireball exploding outward from its target to drape him in its searing touch. He turned to the nameless howler WARN! suffusing the group link, the only word his diverted mind could conjure.

The arrow had not killed the other howler, but something had. Grendil could just feel the after effect of a mesmer’s spell still throbbing through the air, a high pitched “DIE!” muffled but no less powerful as it had traveled through the wind packed air. Whatever nameless had tried to cast, it had been slow enough to get him killed.

Grendil fell, burning and bleeding to the hard slush covered ground—where’s the snow? There was snow on the…Urgon; WARN! Urgon was at his other side, the howler’s body twisting sickeningly in the throws of necrotic mana. Grendil tried to lurch back as the howler’s body tore itself in two, a pair of bone minions gurgling birth cries as they exploded out of Urgon and into unlife. Mork!

The frontline was a den of noise and confusion. Mork roared, swinging the stalker—still clamped to his forearm—around as the animal clawed and shook. The human fighting Grork was a monster; a body and arms as wide as the dwarfs but twisted to nightmarish proportion. It seemed a giant had come down from the north to fight them, and for a brief moment, that was what Grendil concluded. But he knew as much of Them than he did of human; Norn do not fight together. Impossible as it seemed that was a man-thing!

Grorg stood his ground, pounding into the human with his hammer. But the blows never reached him. Each time a strike looked like it would, blue-white light flared. A disciplined fighter, Grork’s blows hammered on as he fended off the human, even as the axe found him with a wild blow, sending blood spraying across the drying ground.

Wheres the snow??? Grendil wondered, desperately seeking a target to fight. He found—it! at last. Four casters had drawn closer in the interviening space. A monk near his height—maybe even a little shorter than he—cast another enchantment on her warrior ally. Blue light flashed around the warrior again and what damage Grork had done was undone by the Reversal of Fortune. Two arrows streaked out of the storm, slamming into Mork as the archers changed targets yet again. A ghostly pale female was in the center of the group, her eyes focusing on Grendil briefly before turning toward Mork as well. Green light flashed from her staff, a shaft of energy adding more to the barrage of damage his frontline was receiving.

But Grendil’s eyes were only for the tall one. So skinny—all the women were so, nothing but skin on bone!—she seemed she would break if the wind changed, a scantily covered, barely clad woman walked behind them all. She was as tall as the human warrior, and in her arms was a longsword, any pretense of using it abandoned as she shivered her way toward the fray. Elementalist energy coursed from her—a beacon of power for Grendil to focus on.

And then he realized where the snow had gone. It seemed impossible he had not felt it before, but the ground beneath him was a raging inferno. His beard had been seared off in the few seconds of uncompromising heat the female had created, a churning swirl of fire dancing around the fight to finish the rest of the dwarf casters.

You’ll do he growled in his mind, all hope of vengeance resting on this woman’s frail form. She began to cast again, her energy focusing on Grork this time, and Grendil sent all of his power into her in a powerful interrupt. Frail as she seemed, he thought the woman would crumble under the power spike. She grunted, blue light flaring over her immediately and Grendil snarled wordlessly at the monk in front of her. She was covered in energy as well, an enchantment wrapping her body like a thin film.

“Fail!” and Grendil groaned as his shatter spell rebounded. He had taken little notice of the other female, intent on his prey and retribution. The mesmer shook a frail finger at him. “Uh uh.” He was barely aware of the gurgling sounds surrounding him now; the human necromancer had summoned two more minions from the nameless howler’s corpse.

Mork bellowed one last time as Grork fell. Then, seeming as though the axe warrior could not live without his twin, the ale chugging dwarf dropped to his knees. Then to his back. Thin silence stretched, broken only by the crunch of snow as an archer—a single archer!—ambled into view.

“Gurgle!” two minions shuddered free from Grork.

“They’ll know we’re here now,” the warrior said in a warning tone. Grendil hadn’t even the strength to groan. Perhaps they would, perhaps Torit would come to investigate as well but…

They know we’ve a guard at the bridge! Warn them, warn! Someone WARN!

“Gurgle!” and Mork joined his brother in unlife. Then the necro looked at him, Grendil trying feebily to scoot away from her hungry squinty—misshapen—eyes.

Grendil wheezed. No. I’m getting married.

“No fiends?” the impossibly tall female asked in her squeaky voice.

The necromancer shook her head, her staff a green glow as she pointed at Grendil’s dying body. “No need.”

Shasha…

Your name was Olin!

“GURGLE!”

Minus Sign · Feb 20, 2008, 02:42 AM // 02:42

Doing something a little different this time. Hope it goes over well.

Sakura Az · Feb 20, 2008, 01:03 PM // 13:03

yay! stories are back! thank you and i love every moment of them!

Minus Sign · Feb 21, 2008, 01:37 AM // 01:37

*28*

Torit leaned over the doylak, his mouth puckered in a frown. “What kind of mana?”

“Fihre,” the golem wheezed. Torit knew it could not be, but golems always seemed to have a tinge of fear in their voice when they said that word. And with the humans encroaching ever more deeply into Summit held land, it was a word they had been using more and more of late. “Fihre,” and then, a third flash of mana, and the golem’s voice droned again like a sleepy, hoarse, alarm, “Fihre.”

“Necromancer as well,” the howler beside him breathed warily. There was no fear in the necromantic dwarf’s voice, only caution. The patrol had no elementalist with them, certainly not a fire elementalist.

“We should send the north patrol to check,” one of his cleavers—Yodik—counseled. “Or else…go check ourselves.”

Torit shook his head, turning his gaze to the snow drift slowly gathering size beyond the lip of bridge. “They’re not back yet,” he said simply, glancing to the north end—a blurry patch at this close distance as wind and snow began to cover everything, even vision. “And we hold the bridge.

“Like it or not, the south patrol is on its own.” And he didn’t like it. No sir, not one bit. Dark was beginning to gather; soon it would be night. The guard had only been re-enforced to protect what the miners had dragged up from the west shaft, a collection of stones in a strongbox that would bend even a doylak’s knees with the weight. It couldn’t be moved in the storm, so dwarves had come out from the main mine to defend it.

Personally, he didn’t understand the reasoning. Better to leave the gems in the shaft than stick them on a bridge. But these were bound for the centaur—payment for services soon to be rendered—and would move at the earliest convenience. haste makes waste, his father had always said, and Torit considered the actions of his superiors wasteful in the extreme today. First, chasing a human scouting patrol across half the Iron Horse and not killing them outright. The Summit should have come down on that group like a bag full f hammers. Somehow, they hadn’t, and all that was to show for it was a dead female man-thing. Then the rush to get the gems out of the west shaft—the humans had found it, sheltering there for a time. Then the counter orders. Storm coming up too soon, wait at the bridge for escort. No; hold the bridge until further notice; we’ll be sending you some help shortly. The first patrol had come with that news, the second—the one Torit had sent south—had come saying there’d be no more groups traveling today. The mines were in a Whiteout. Any group traveling in this mess would likely get hurt or ambushed by Dryders on the way. Best to wait now. And now, exposed on the bridge with a fortune of gems to guard and no place to secure them, Torit felt the hasty decision-making of his leaders coming crashing down on his head. He took it a personal insult, to be out here—short of the numbers he wanted—with the tail end of his commanders’ hasty decisions bearing down on him.

He knew that wasn’t fair. The humans had moved too soon was all; slipping a scout party into the mines just days before the final contract with the centaurs had been reached. Was their intelligence so sharp that they knew time was running out? Or had they simply grown tired of waiting at the bend? The wind around him shifted again, blowing a firm gust from the south and Torit sighed. A simple as that, a change in the wind, and all the best laid plans are blown away. We don’t build a house with only three walls his father had also said. Torit never really understood that until today, except to say that was a given.

Now he knew the folly of his commanders. When the wind changes, you want all your walls up. They’d moved into their plan with only three, and the open wall was like a massive door, beckoning the humans inside.

“Do you smell that?” the other cleaver—Urhan—sniffed the air like a snowwolf, bringing Torit out of his revelry. He couldn’t smell anything, the doylak’s musky scent masking everything but the torch’s burning peat from his nose.

“Stinks,” a hammer warrior replied. “Something…not rottin but like its. Bloody meat.”

“Burning too,” the howler beside Torit added, “They cooking something down there?”

“T’ain’t nothing goanna rot in this cold an they t’ain’t got no fire ta burn wit,” the sage snapped. “Somthins comin, and it ain’t the patrol.”

“I smell it,” and the howler did sound worried now. I smell it. Mana. Necromancer mana.”

“Where?”

“South; a lot of it,” the howler licked his lips stepping closer to the south lip. “I smell you; taste you. Your soul. Its open like a wound. Open and split. Split…split…

“Fihre,” the golem warned. Torit could feel it too, a sustained swath of mana emanating from an elementalist—and a powerful one—from the south.

“Split eleven ways!”

Torit gawked, poleaxed momentarily by the news. “Min-ion mas-ter! On the south approach! Get the patrol up here or we’re all—”

“Stand firm,” Yodik said, his axe ready, and rubbed ice from his shield. “They can’t move that fast in this mess; they’ll break every bone in their body.”

“The fire!” Torit screamed, mentally hauling the golems up to the fore, “They’re using fire to burn a path!” and as his warning left his mouth, truth of his words came screaming through the snow, rolling across the ground. The fireball exploded, sending shards of heat and rock splattering in all directions. Following, a flailing woman ran into view, her body covered in flames as she rushed the fore guard to slash at them with a longsword. Torit almost scoffed. So did the warriors as they rushed to meet this madwoman and send her to Grenth or the backline where she belonged.

Kali screamed, slicing into flesh, her own skin blistering from the heat of her enchantment. Another roar as the dwarves met, and she sneered, turning away with a—Torit couldn’t believe it—a laugh! The enchantment about her ended, a rush of flame washing the ground around her and the four warriors groaned in pain, Kali’s heat diffusing into them. Another grunt from kali and her body lit again, the elementalist turning a hasty retreat.

“She’s mad!” Urhan gawked, staring at the burning woman as she ran away. The warriors rushed out to give chase, Yodik wiping blood from his beard.

“She’s not alone,” Torit warned. Then, to the warriors moving to pursue, “No! It’s a trap—don’t leave the bridge!”

Too late, they slowed to a stop, dwarf noses testing the air again The horde was already on them, a mammoth manthing at the lead of the swarm. Stephan howled in glee and rage, his axe spinning in his hands, his shield a blue wall as the dwarf warrior turned to strike him.

Strip those enchantments, Torit snarled. Stephan grunted, but blue light continued to glow around him. “Where was the monk? “Where’s the monk?”

“The hordes in!” the sage screamed, still tearing enchantments from the human as he slipped behind Torit’s doylak. The dwarf frontline had shifted back to the bridge immediately after Stephan’s attack, but Kali’s surprise stab had drawn them out, and Stephan had kept them away from the lip long enough. Like a swarm of angry bees, green enchanted minions swam through the trench Kali had cut with her burning speed, past the lip and were beginning to peck at the midline enthusiastically. Elementalist mana drenched the air, the white above Torit glowing an ominous red.

But not all of them, Torit noticed. Four had made it onto the bridge, already walking with an ice-crunching slowness as water hexes froze the minions. Six more gurgled at the dwarf frontline, Stephan in the center, his axe swinging out in a devastating swath. Yodik bellowed again, his shield cleaved nearly in half. A hammer warrior stepped closer to Stephan, pounding the human to the ground in a flash of blue light.

“Torit!” the sage yelled, shoving at a pair of minions with his hands, their barbs stabbing at him but somehow evaded, “I can’t cast!”

Torit snarled, smiting the hex that was hampering his sage. The minions flailed as the holy energy he sent to his sage hammered them. But there were others across his team; it would be a war of wills between he and the human mesmer to see who did more damage.

“Backline a minute, we’ve got him pinned!” Yodik roared and the meat smelling hammer warrior turned from the fight, the massive weight of his weapon coming down on the nearest minion. The undead thing gurgled angrily, crumbling but not yet fully dead and the hammer warrior swung at it again. It did not dissolve though. As the killing blow struck, the green light around the minion rebounded inside, turning the undead body into a poisonous explosive. Bone and flesh splattered across the hammer warrior, one of the howlers and Torit’s doylak, the creature groaning ominously as it leaned sideways in pain.

Torit looked at the other three minions in his backline, then to the six still up front. Another glance skyward and the clouds were bright orange.

And he knew; the bridge was the real trap. Clustered tightly in the range of the minion’s Death Novas, the elementalist spell reaching its apex all too soon.

He was in a bomb and it was about to blow.

“Strip the minions!” Torit called, watching as his sage turned instantly to the task. But as he cast, the sage grunted, and Torit felt a lance of pain and failure through the group link. “DIE!” roared across the bridge, the mana-enhanced voice of one mesmer blocking the cast of another. “Retreat! Break the line and scatter or we’re all dead!”

Yordik yelled something back at him and Torit watched in horror as the other hammer warrior stopped attacking Stephan. Balked by the enchantments that kept the single human alive, the hammer swung to an undefended minion stabbing at his face. “NO! DON’T TOUCH I—”

Too late, the minion crumbled in a heap at the warrior’s feet. The green glow around it flashed, twisting inward as the minion fell. The frontline did not scatter; it imploded. Balls of fore slammed into the three remaining warriors at the fore, knocking them down. Another minion fell, exploding across the frontline with deadly consequence and Torit threw his healing wide. The howlers has pushed up with the warriors to strike the human’s backline with their spells, but the damage they had done to the man-things beyond the bridge was nothing compared with what they would feel now. Torit watched them die, green explosions hammering the casters and his defending warriors; the healer poleaxed as more meteors streamed down from the orange/white sky. Whistles followed blast, and two arrows exploded into the frontline, pounding the dwarves.

Torit had to choose, and he picked Yodik. He healed the other dwarf, a blast of pure lifeforce returning much of what had been taken by the massive assault. The others groaned as the monk turned to the next, the other cleaver, but the dwarf was dead before he could cast. He was no longer looking at the bodies on the bridge; he focused on the goup link, feeling the one closest to death and healing as best he could. He dared an enchantment on one of the weaker, shielding hands grasping the sage as he fumbled to his feet for the last time. But no sooner was the enchantment in place than Torit felt a burst of power rip through his mesmer, shattering his protective spell and turning the shield into a killing blow. The sage toppled, dead beside him.

“Gurgle!” and the horde swelled anew, a nightmare creature stepping out of the flesh smelling hammer warrior, and then Torit only had eyes for Stephan. The man thing had punched through the dying warriors, leaping high with his axe swinging wide. The dwarf monk stared, watching it all in slow motion, his healing area spell a forgotten cast as “FAIL!” ripped through his mind.

Torit had a brief moment of sanity to realize his head was coming loose, then a mind-numbing explosion of pure pain as momentum finished the job. The axe swept clear, traveling toward its next victim, but Torit would never see. His head, alone, dropped and fell to the ground, lying facedown in the thick powder on the bridge.

Minus Sign · Feb 21, 2008, 02:36 AM // 02:36

*29*

“Gurgle!” and another fiend stepped out of the dwarf frontline. The cleaver had turned its attention to idiot now, axe slashing across the stalker as it moved to help Stephan.

“Reinforcements!” Colin warned, arrows streaking by her face as the archer sent one shaft after another into dwarves she could not even see. It was only her horde, always her horde. It pulsed with her, the greater part of her out here. She wanted to weep when they died, cry in joy when another was born. It was hypnotic and consuming, controlling the ten bodies before her. “FAITH? The patrol’s back!”

“Push up,” she ordered, her mind half-dreamy as she walked her backline forward. “Gurgle!” and another fiend ripped free of its bonds, throat barb coming to bear on the north patrol Colin had warned them of. “Onto the bridge and take the high ground.”

“I’m getting tired again,” Melody cautioned, blue light shimmering feebly on Stephan almost out of sight as he rushed to meet the new threat. The doylak before her groaned and Faith felt its life force slam into her. She sent it back, its life and some of hers, and another fiend burst out.

“I too,” Alia panted, hands on her knees, “Dat mezmer waz gud; dat monk was…bedder.”

“Monk’s dead,” Colin confirmed, stepping past the four women. “Concentrate on the howlers for a while Ally, I’ll keep this other mesmer quiet.”

“Gurgle!” Faith shook her head to clear it and peeped a moan as one of her bone horrors exploded again. “he’s right,’ she rebuked, her skin still tawny and taut on her face. When the howlers had attacked her and kali, it had been all Mel could do to keep the two of them alive. They’d struck with every hex Faith knew, and a couple she’d never seen before. The patrol had been tough but good. The bridge guard had been a fight to the finish, but Kali’s meteor shower and her own minion bombs had made the race a sprint. Hard to pull off, but devastating to the other side.

Kali groaned; her face still red with blisters from her mad dash to and from the frontline. The elementalist was in a worse state than Faith. She’d taken the brunt of the attack even with Stephan and the horde to block the melee fighters. She listed to one side, looking for all as if she would fall down at any moment.

She shook Kali by the arm, the elementalist panting from strain. “You with me?” Faith asked.

“To the end,” the elementalist replied, a force of will pushing the woman upright and back to the fight.

“That’s coming sooner than you think ladies,” Colin intruded, pinning the sage to the ground as it pushed to shut melody down. The two cleavers from the north patrol were already on the ground, one with a deep gash across its stomach, the other with Idiot standing atop it, proudly.

The howlers—once again—were proving a problem. Faith moaned with the group, “Scatter!” as another life draining spell swept into the cluster of women. Alia growled, her voice a feeble “die!” as the other howler tried to cover them again. Stephan moved like a man through water, his axe swimming through the hex induced weakness to strike out at one of them. But his heart wasn’t in it, and the necromancer twisted away. The warrior grunted from annoyance as he paid a price for missing, grunted again when he did strike, as yet another hex stole some of his life and transferred it to the necromancer.

Another orb of fire flared in Kali’s hand, the fireball whistling at the howler and setting it aflame. Throat barbs from the horde slammed into the other, a wall of thin bone projectiles—and Colin’s own arrows as well—sending the last howler rolling along the ground.

Then stillness, the wind howling to bury their own exertions as the six humans regrouped on the bridge.

“That,” Stephan declared, kneeling down to pick through one of the cleaver’s remains, “was no picnic.”

“You wanted to come,” Faith rebuked halfheartedly. The hexes began to fade and Faith let out a blustery breath, “I never promised sandwiches and sunshine.”

“Heh!” Kali barked, sitting on an iron crate, still panting as she set her sword down beside her.

“Scoot over,” Melody prompted, hopping onto the crate as well. Faith put her hands on her knees, catching her breath in a most un-leader-like fashion. At this point, she didn’t care if she looked commanding or not. Everyone was dead on their feet after the fight.

“Hey,” Faith sighed and looked up. Stephan was staring at Kali’s legs. No, he was staring at the crate. “What is that?”

“Ironhammer’s wishchest,” Colin replied, chuckling at the joke.

“Uh uh,” Stephan shook his head, “it’s locked up tight.” And to demonstrate, he stepped to the chest, reaching a hand between kali and melody’s legs, tugging at an iron lock. “Colin; you know how it pick a lock?”

“I’m a ranger not a thief,” the other man scoffed.

“Gods sake,” Kali rebuked, pushing off the chest and looking at the lock herself. She smacked Stephan on his back, moving him away. “Mel hop up; if you’re goanna take my seat, I swear…” the elementalist concentrated, scowling at the lock. “Its enchanted. Warded. But I think I can…” the iron began to sizzle and pop, and Melody eeped, jumping away as hot metal crumbled to the ground. “There!”

Stephan pulled an iron bar free, prizing the lip with his axe. Several grunts and the lip popped open. Tired as she was, even Faith was curious now.

“Holy Gods,” the warrior stared into the strong box, dipping a hand in. it sounded like glass scrapping against itself, and when he pulled his hand out, large shards of color spilled from it. Kali beamed appreciatively.

“We’re rich,” the elementalist exclaimed, dipping her own hands into the treasure chest. “We’re still dead but we’ll die rich!”

“Pretty,” Melody chirped, moving to inspect the loot as well. She picked up a sapphire and held it to her face, turning the gem in her hand to watch the light reflect off it.

“Hoo hooo,” was all Alia could say, taking another end of the strong box and dipping her hands inside. More practical than the others, she glanced around, then unashamedly put several of the choicer stones in her belt pouch. Then she started digging for more. Kali laughed, joining her.

Faith was looking at the box like it was an adder in her path. She shivered as Stephan tested its weight, grunting as he moved it an inch and straining to do so. “We can move it,” he declared, tugging again.

“No,” Faith said, shaking her head.

“What?” Kali turned and Faith could see a touch of green in her blue eyes. Green eyes, a green eyed monster rearing its head inside her. “Is it hexed?”

“It iz not exed,” Alia declared, taking another handful of stones from the box.

“Its not,” Faith agreed and Kali turned back to her prize, the matter settled. “It’s heavy. And it’ll slow us down.”

“You’re right Faith,” Colin said. He had been leaning to a side, inspecting the box with the same sense of dread as the necromancer. “You said it yourself Kali. You want to die rich, a frozen ele- cicle for some dwarf patrol to find come spring, still clutching yer goodies?”

“Or do you want to make it to the cave and get a fire going,” Faith concluded.

Kali glared at the two, her hand instinctively moving to the belt pouch she was keeping her group leader pin in. She was already outvoted, but she still seemed willing to argue the matter.

“Well?”

“I’m thinking it over,” she growled, but there was surrender and acceptance coming from the group link. Faith sighed mentally, feeling the others coming on her side as well. Alia’s hands were flashing through the gems now, picking out particulars with a practiced eye. Kali smacked the mesmer’s hand as she went for another big ruby.

Melody grabbed the ruby as the two women shared a look, hopping away from the box. “Mine,” the monk said, "and a white one," the monk grabbed a diamond as well, skipping away and looking at her treasures with a smile.

“Alia’s got it right,” Faith said, coming to the box and grabbing a handful of gems. She didn’t take precious time inspecting each one; in her hands was a small fortune no matter the individual value. “Grab what you can carry—and still run with—and lets get moving. I don’t trust this storm to hold off pursuit if the dwarves think we’ve stumbled on this. Something is bound to be up here to check on the guard post and I want to be a distant memory when they show.”

Minus Sign · Mar 06, 2008, 10:10 PM // 22:10

*30*

Melody and Stephan proved the hardest to explain to. After seeing all that was left over, Stephan was dead set to take the whole box. “I can keep up!” he’d insisted, tugging at the heavy ironwork again, “if we take more of it out, and we move the rest to something light, I can carry it! We can move some of the food over—”

It had come to a head quickly after that. Faith drew out a small pen knife she kept in her pack, and held it to his backpack as if it were a hostage. She planted the blade on the bottom, ready to slice a hole clean through. “this pack carries food or it carries air. Are we clear?”

The warrior had stared at her, sensing the iron will through the group link, and finally relented.

The monk was not interested in any more “pretties” than the few she already had. Greed appeared to be something that Peace and Harmony shielded her from as well. Faith managed to get Melody to hold onto some of the stones (“Keep them safe. For me”) and soon all their packs were comfortably filled with treasure. As full as Faith would allow, at least. Stephan shared a longing look with Kali at the gold and gems still littering the ground, fully three quarters of the strong boxes contents still inside or strewn callously away. Faith flicked out her pen knife again, cleaning her fingernails with it and the warrior turned to take the point again.

Colin watched this as an outsider; watched Faith handle her group with a familiarity he had known only briefly. This was a bond as close as family. Closer in some ways.

Alright Colin,” Faith said, her tone sympathetic, “Sorry to send you out in the slop again but—”

“You need someone scouting out there,” he concluded. “I know; heel Idiot.” The stalker, it too carrying a small pair of hastily made saddle bags across its back, turned from the group to walk at his side as he trudged into the deeper drifts. Soon the link was distant and fuzzy; a grayness in the back of his mind where the five people were. He knew they were there; knew they were well but…he had grown used to being the leader. It felt strange to take another’s orders now. Not bad. Well…not all bad. There were things he would certainly have done differently if he were holding the reigns. Those howlers for instance. Hadn’t she known they’d give her backline trouble if they balled up that way? Course she had. So why didn’t she have her backline scatter. Better one hexed and calling it out than everyone getting the same load in the face!

“Uh huh,” Colin said, tugging at his mask again. The wind was starting to howl fiercely toward him, the snow coming at him sideways, blowing into his face. It was a chore to walk through the drifts that buried him to his ankles, and he turned to kick a path back through the soft packed powder. The trail was long buried, and with nothing else to guide him in the whiteout, Colin had to rely on the group link to find the team again. His mind continued to wander as he walked, an amble fit to his steps as he trudged through his worries and way.

And the minions. Those fiends of hers did some terrible damage. The bombs she made out of her bone horrors were powerful but wasteful. Who could have been sure that the howlers hadn’t specced some corpse control? And she’d wasted him, in his opinion. He and Alia both. Pushing Alia onto one target was wasteful when the woman was so adept at shutting down many. Asking me to keep Idiot on the frontline? Doubly so. Maybe it was her getting a feel for her new members, maybe it was inexperience with the “other” professions that had thus far not been in her regular groups. He couldn’t be sure.

“Colin!” Faith called before he was in eyesight. This time she had come out to meet him, “Trouble?”

“Maybe,” he confessed, glancing longingly at the foggy bubble of heat Kali was making again. Melody was again curled up with the elementalist as they walked. “Dryders on our northeast approach. They’re trailing us.”

Faith’s lips pinched in a pout of thought, turning a slight shade of blue in the cold. “How close are they following?” When she spoke, her teeth chattered, reminding the ranger how cold he was.

“They’re keeping a good distance for now but Faith,” the ranger shook his head and pinched his nose shut, holding in a sneeze. It felt like something was frozen in there, tickling at his nostrils. “It’s not like before. They’re not moving off; they’ve been with us for a few minutes now.”

“No doubt they know where we are?

“They’re downwind and tracking on us; probly by smell.”

“Are they going to attack us or are they just sniffing?”

“For now,” Colin considered before answering, “sniffing. If they’re anything like a wolf pack they may just be watching us as we cross their territory. Or they may be gauging us. If they think we’re a meal, they might give it a go.”

“How many did you see?”

“I didn’t see em,” he confessed. “Felt em,” and he thumped his chest. “Sorry but the storm’s too thick to get a good look without getting closer than I wanna. More’n four; less than ten but that’s a guess.”

“Can you give me any hard number?”

Colin sighed, his breath coming out white smoke that billowed from the sides of his mask. “I know there’s at least four. But that’s just way too small for a good pack, and a small pack wouldn’t stay curious about us this long. Fear or hunger would have won out by now and they’d have run or fought.”

Faith nodded. “You did your best and we’re grateful. Come on back to Kali a couple of minutes; get warmed up while I fill everyone in.”

Colin shuffled his way into the group, sighing appreciatively and sneezing when he neared the elementalist. He was in no mood to repeat himself and had no need as Faith began her talk. “Alright guys. We’ve got some critters downwind of us. That’s our— on our northeast flank, right Colin?

“Yeah.”

“So they’re tracking us by smell.”

“You said they’d leave us alone if I fired back up,” Kali said, slightly rebuking. Snow touched her and steamed, giving the woman a misty appearance. Her hair was wet, too cold to stay dry.

Faith shrugged. “I said a group left us alone and I thought it was because of the heat. Whatever they’re doing, they aren’t attacking yet. I’m going to send Colin back out in a minute to see if things change in that department, but for now they aren’t a threat. They may just be taking a look at us. Right Colin?”

“‘True enough to call it straight,’ as my pa was like to say.”

Kali shrugged. “Better on than off,” she said with a shrug. Melody nodded, all but pushing at the woman to stay close and warm.

“I’m going to send you back out in a minute Colin,” for now I want everyone to hear: if you,” she pointed to him, “or anyone else sees anything out of the ordinary, run for me and hide in the horde. The cold is keeping them pretty well preserved, but I still have to heal them to keep them from freezing solid. Kali, I still think that the heat is something they don’t like, so I want area spells dropped on Stephan if they come at us…” Colin listened with half an ear as she continued to lay out her plan in case the were attacked.

Yeah, he scoffed to himself, Lottsa things I’d do different. But not better by a shave. She got us through two tough fights—still fresh and ready for more. And rich too! I might’ve let Muscles take more of it if he was sure he could, but gal had it right. Greed gets you dead two times in three.

The ranger considered that, nodding to himself. “I best get back out there,” he said.

“Good idea,” Faith said half-mindedly; then back to Kali, “I know it’s a strain but can you get any hotter?

“What about your minions? The closest one’s are rotting as it is,” Kali countered. If I do you’ll need to stay in the rearguard.”

“I’ll manage a little chill…No, Alia. I want you on one. I want it shut down. Don’t get me wrong; you see an opportunity, take it, but I want at least one of them completely out of the fight and halfway toward dead by the time we get to it…” but their voices were buried in the wind as the ranger trudged on.

For someone who hadn’t actually commanded a third of her team in the field before today, Faith was proving up to the task and Colin had to admit it. Fighting down her personal jitters, keeping Alia on a tight leash (he had to accept, if you didn’t give the Mesmer focus, she was liable to overreach herself) and him at arm’s length—which also meant keeping him in arm’s reach in the same breath. As much as he was getting a feel for her and her command, she was pulling the two of them into that command.

What was more surprising to him: Faith did this instinctively. Alia chaffed under the concessions Faith required, but not overly so. Faith’s orders were not to be cruel or made of foolishness or pride. She hadn’t called Alia back onto a target because she’d seen hexes dropping where she didn’t think they should go. She’d only reproached her once—shortly—when Alia had…gone after one of the Sage’s and ignored a howler. The slow cast spell had done more damage than the shatter Alia interrupted. It wasn’t Alia’s style but it also wasn’t Alia’s group. Faith wanted the Mesmer working with the team…and what she wanted from that Mesmer for the most part was one enemy unit completely shut down. He realized that what Faith wanted and what Alia usually did could work very well together. If Alia learned to keep her focus on one target, she could switch to others and improve her shutdown through fear of retribution as surely as actual retribution. If a dwarf knew there was a Mesmer sitting in his face, would he be willing to cast that next hex? Or would he waste time trying to hide from her. And while her primary target was paralyzed with fear of the interrupt that might come, she could afford to cast one elsewhere.

As for him…had she felt something at the rez shrine? He had sensed anger, but assumed it was self-reproach. Had she sensed some of what he was thinking through her personal fog? He doubted it. But she knew one thing veryu well, and he was certain it was a deciding factor in how he was being treated: commanders command alone. Feedback was appreciated and no one was ignored, but Faith would not allow heads to butt where decisions needed to be fast. She was making that statement now, he realized.

“The heck are you doing?” Colin asked the wind. He could smell something in the air. Something faintly old and musky. It was distant, but defiantly upwind of him.

“Same distance. New direction. What’re you up to?” he coughed angrily, turning back to the group again.

Kali was not Colin. She took Faith’s orders, offered feedback and advice and—most important—had been doing so since long before she had a GL badge. Colin did the same, but he did it from a position outside. Faith knew this. Somehow, somewhere inside her, she knew this. “So off to patrol you go rangerboy; scout out the country, keep us safe”…and offer your feedback with your hands stuffed in your armpits. This wasn’t an attempt to be callous or controlling either. It wasn’t really an attempt to keep him separated. Well, maybe a very small part was. Even his decisions had been held separately—a private conference between them before she let the team know what was what.

She let him approach, walk through the group to come to her. “What’s up?” and—he noticed—it was nearly as cold out here in the rear guard as it was far away from the team, out in the snow.

“They’re southwest of us now,” he said, his voice betraying the first twinges of genuine concern.

“Not to sound naïve,” she said, deferring to his experience with animals. As a ranger, it was his specialty, “but could it be they’re trying to say hi or something?”

Colin shook his head. “There’s very few ways scavengers say ‘hi’ that I know of Faith and most of them involve fangs.”

“How sure are you?”

“Pretty sure; they’re getting ready for something.”

“What are you not telling me?”

He shuffled his feet; Faith had stepped away from the path Kali was melting, giving him the easier road to walk in. “Something I don’t want you worrying over yet because it’s just a guess.”

“Guess; let me worry.”

A sigh. “This isn’t natural. What they’re doing. I’ve never seen a pack expose itself to something’s sense of smell and not attack. It doesn’t make sense...unless they’re trying to herd us.”

Faith waited a moment. Then “And the other shoe?”

“I think they’re waiting,” he admitted.

“For what?”

Minus Sign · Mar 06, 2008, 11:22 PM // 23:22

“That’s a question,” he smiled. “I dunno. Full dark; but there’s not much to see in this mess. More of them maybe. I just don’t know.

“One more thing, if you don’t mind the suggestion.”

“Shoot.”

“When a pack attacks, you want your backs to the fire and make a circle. In our case..”

“Melody’s the fire, I’ll stay closer to Kali and so I can get the horde walled up around us in time. I don’t like this but—”

“You need eyes out there, or something close. Besides, Kali’s nothing but a tease to me right now; my toes won’t fall off for another hour,” he began to walk away, but Faith put a hand on his arm, holding him back again.

“Colin. How far are we to the Anil Rock approach?”

“Close. Which really worries me. What if they’re waiting until we get to that cut in the trail?”

“We’ll deal with it when it comes. I need to talk to them,” and as she walked herself and the horde back up he grunted and began running back up through the group, pausing to wave back at them as he passed, forcing the worry from his face.

Segregation like this might make Colin chafe from another person. Faith did it for a reason. Scouting was an extremely important job and one rangers excelled at. The information he carried back to the team was measured in lives saved. But it had to be interpreted properly too, without emotion or bias. Faith did not hold conference with him to keep his words secret. She was acting as a translator between he and her regulars. Kali, still angry, took reports from Faith’s mouth without question. The Group Leader spoke and we now know this; that is all. Melody…well, who knew what she understood but would she listen to Colin if he laid out the particulars of a patrol in her hearing? Worse; would PnH shatter when she realized he meant to kill the itty bitty cut wittle dwarves? Stephan…wanted to get too friendly too fast. It was his way; good natured and open. People like that sought to impress one another.

“What’d’you think boy?” Colin asked, pausing to rub Idiot between his ears. The stalker shook itself as they stopped, powdery snowy and wet flakes exploding in all directions.

“Thanks,” the ranger muttered, annoyed. “Guess you’re right though. Better things to worry about than what I’d do different if I were in charge, neh?

Idiot sneezed, his hackles rose to keep the fur fluffed. Then he growled, a coughing purr full of menace.

“Yeah. No smell; they’re north of us again.” Colin nodded, sensing the creatures that were coming near him. There was no other way to describe the way some rangers tracked; you could feel a group if it came close enough. The wind picked up; a fierce gust that tugged at his cape and mask so hard he had to readjust them. “No. Wait; there is a smell. They’re south after…all…”

“Melandru Spits in the Wind!” and the ranger stumbled at last, rolling into the powder now up to his knees as he tried to run back to his group. They must have sensed the shock in his mind, for Faith had increased speed the moment he realized what was happening.

“Dryders! They’re on both sides—they’ve got us flanked.”

“What?”

“I knew this wasn’t natural. They showed us the north side first—Gods why didn’t I realize! They showed us the downwind side to herd us; not the upwind. The upwind was a mistake; it was too soon because an animal would have turned into them; a herd of animals would have run or fought; we just kept to our path. We were being unnatural and it confused them! They’re on both sides now.

Faith spoke with resolve. “If they’ve got us flanked, then they’re going to attack. Only question, why haven’t they yet?”

“Because they didn’t like the heat,” Colin concluded. “They don’t like what they feel from Kali. It spooks them; another unnatural thing up here that they’re trying to figure out!”

“Are you sure?” Kali asked skeptically.

“As sure as I can be,” he said, but Faith overrode him with a firm “I’m sure,” do you have a problem with that? thick in her voice, but unsaid. Colin continued. “I felt them on the north side just before I smelled them from the south.”

They’re swarming on something

Faith bowed her head, “Keep moving; pick up the pace a bit more. Colin with me.”

“What’d’you,” he began but she held up a hand.

“Gimme a minute,” she said aloud. Then, more to herself, “Think! They’ve been following us like this; they must have been following Mhenlo’s team the same way. The first group left us alone; moved away because of the fire. They didn’t attack until now…what’s the connection—where is the link???”

Colin watched, could almost see the gears turning in her head as Faith replayed the little they had learned about Dryders from Mhenlo’s hasty debrief. It came to her slowly. Not a flash of insight, but a replay of her conversation with the monk back at the rez shrine; chewing over each word one by one until a single sentence stuck there

And just as she took it, he saw it too. Alone, he might not have stumbled on it, but the haggard look in her eyes told him the words she was reliving. “Olivia was already in a bad way—we were mopping up the last of the Summit—”

“Olivia was already in a bad way.”

“They’re scavengers,” they said at once. Then Faith, alone: “They feed on death. They feed on…

“On me.”

“The horde!” his whisper shouted, glancing back to the cluster of minions that had been following them all this time. “You’re a walking buffet right now!”

Faith nodded. That was simple truth. Then aloud, for all to hear. “Kali; scorch the road! Melody, I need a veil and keep it up!

“Everyone run; leave the horde behind and run!”

“What about you?” Colin asked, lingering as the others moved at Faith’s command. He alone seemed to realize all the requirements for her gambit. “The moment you break with the horde, it dies. We can’t leave it behind without leaving you.”

“I know,” she said, “Go.”

“Faith,” he shook his head. “I can help…”

“Yes you can,” she agreed, “you can point out the road to Kal and get them to The Rock that much sooner.

“Do that,” and when he hesitated yet again, her voice was hard as ice, “Move it ranger. And if kali thinks to come back for me tell her I said to stuff that nonsense up her craw!”

Colin bolted forward at that, surprised that he could. Kali had melted the snow down to the ground, and his feet were sure as he ran the distance up to the team again.

“Where’s Faith?” Melody asked, turning back to look for her. She was no longer snuggling the elementalist. Kali was red faced from strain, panting with added effort as her clothes misted, her skin so hot they were drying on her body.

“Follow me,” was his reply, “she wants us to get into the Anvil Rock pass quickly.”

“Whats she doing back there?” Stephan asked. Kali began to slow down and Colin tugged at the elementalist’s arm to hurry them on.

“She’s staying in the back to keep the horde up a while longer; give us a head start.

“We can’t leave her back there!” Kali bellowed. She stopped, turning back to the east and Faith. “I’m going back.”

“Kali,” Colin countered, “we need you to burn the path. So does she. You can’t go back for her; we have to leave her behind.”

“Grenth’ll wear false teeth before I will,” and there it was. The GL pin was in her hand in a flash; she was fiddling with it, ready to override him.

“And if you didn’t listen to reason,” Colin countered, “Faith told me to tell you to stuff it up your craw and move.”

Kali snarled at him a moment and Colin quickly regretted repeating Faith’s callous tone. Then, with a huff, Kali turned and ran west. “She would say that…” the elementalist muttered.

For a moment, all seemed well. The distance between Faith and the group lengthened slowly, gradually reaching a point where Colin asked them to slow down and wait. He wanted to make certain the path stayed clear for the necromancer, but he dared not go back.

Then all knew the fight was joined. Faith’s emotions unfolded it for them. Anger. An impudent sniff. Reproach. Then a snarl of them, snagged together. Embarrassment, rage, surprise and…delight. It felt like someone had stood up in the back of his head, clapping applause at a play they had witnessed but despised the actors nonetheless. Kali looked a question at him.

“Must have gotten to see her Defile,” was his only guess.

“She’s hurting,” Melody pouted. Colin could feel it too; a burst of strain from Faith through the link. Then another. And another. She was probably using Blood of the Master on her horde. Alia and Kali both grabbed for the monk as she turned.

“We have to wait for her to come to us,” Kali said. “Keep the veil on her until she comes up here and tells you to take it off, okay?” Melody fidgeted, Alia now pulling at her to keep pace.

Strain from the necromancer through the link and Faith sent a whisper: “I’m fine. MOVE,” and to prove the point, her health and vitality seemed to rise. She was healing through the Dryders, whatever they were doing to her by now. She was gaining on the group; coming close.

“You heard her,” Colin said. “But lets slow down a little; let her catch us up.”

Then it was down to a pattern again. Sacrifice. Heal heal. Run. Sacrifice. Heal heal. Run. Sacrifice. Heal heal. Run. The ache of her actions made Colin’s knees weak. Minion Masters were always kept busy maintaining their horde but…during battle, that was a full time job. Faith was somehow coordinating a fight at one end, marinating the horde there, and running to them between tasks.

When she was close enough, Colin called a halt. He could feel exhaustion through the link now, and what he saw when she reached them was…

Faith’s aged grandmother stepped out of the whiteness. Her body was trim as ever, but her face was twisted and lined, the skin hanging from her cheeks as though she were melting in the icy land.

“Get this,” her voice was grave, tired from strain and pains she had concealed through distance and shielding. “…off of me.”

Melody dropped the Holy Veil she had been maintaining. Defile Flesh lingered, and the monk cast another, removing it as well.

“Faith you look funny,” the monk supplied. “How bad are you hurt?”

“A little only,” Faith admitted, “I’m better than I think this looks,” and she lifted her hand, shaking her head at what she saw. “Keep walking. Melody, keep me up.”

Colin felt the strain through the link, felt each time Faith cast. Her life seemed to dip and rebound, dip and rebound as she sacrificed herself into the horde and Melody healed her.

But each touch from Melody’s Divine Favor helped as well. Each time Faith was refreshed, the lingering taint of Defile Flesh was shorn away like wood from a carving. He could not sense the horde, but he could not hear the fight either. The wind was such that no noise carried further than their footsteps not, and those were drowned in an unceasing howl.

“How far away are they?” Colin asked.

Faith shrugged. “At my limit to be honest,” and she cast another Blood of the Master spell. Melody instantly healed her. “And not many of them left. We were right; they were more interested in the dying horde than a healthy human. Once I started running, the few dryders that pursued gave up on me and turned back to the fight. Besides,” and she smiled humorlessly, “They didn’t like paying the cost to taste me.”

“I don’t like the look of that finger,” Melody said, picking up Faith’s hand again to inspect. “We should stop so I can have a proper look at it.”

“In a minute Mel,” Faith replied, pulling the hand away. “I still need to concentrate on what I’m doing. Another self-sacrifice…and another.”

“How many minions do you have left?” Stephan asked. Everyone was jittery now, watching as Faith fought their battle for them.

“Three,” she replied. “Some of the fiends I think; I can’t feel them that well anymore—they’re,” and her voice took on a cast as her shoulders slumped. “They’re gone. Do you think we have enough of a lead?”

Colin nodded, pointing ahead. Faith sighed again, this time in relief, and offered her hand freely for melody to inspect.

Jutting through the whiteout, a massive gray shape appeared. The rock atop was uniquely shaped, visible even in the storm. The peak below held it—a precarious balancing act Colin thought—aloft, giving the appearance of an anvil on a pedestal.

“Anvil,” Stephan said, squinting to make out the shape in the whiteout. “We’re nearly there.”

Minus Sign · Mar 06, 2008, 11:23 PM // 23:23

Sorry for the delay. As you can see, the next chapter was a biggun (too big to fit into one post for those wondering why I posted nothing a couple hours ago

)

Sakura Az · Mar 07, 2008, 07:51 AM // 07:51

i keep saying it, but i love this story, i check nearly every day to see if its been updated. keep the awesomeness comming and thanks for posting up your storys.

Minus Sign · Apr 24, 2008, 10:48 PM // 22:48

*31*

And none too soon, Faith mused, nodding to herself. Anvil Rock seemed to call to her, a promise of safety after this day in Grenth’s chamber pot. She was stretched thin from the fighting—pushed past her reserves from that mad dash from the Defilers—and ready for nothing more than rest. Feeling the others through the group link, she could sense their own worry and weariness compacting on one another. Each mind echoed a tired anthem to the others, bouncing from one to another like water drops on a spider web. Soon the water would pool and collect, the droplet falling and taking the team down with it.

Kali was panting now, the strain of maintaining constant heat on her shoulders. She was slumped, worn and sweaty. Her footsteps thumped, jarring her body as she trudged a path down into the thick snow. Faith saw that the snow was closer now. No longer did Kali scorch a footprint down to the dirt and grass below. She slipped, using Melody as a crutch, as slushy ice gave way underfoot. If she exhausted herself before they reached the cave…

“Kali,” Faith called through the howling wind around them, “take it down a few degrees. We’re so close, I don’t want an ambush busting us apart now.”

Kali made no protest, only nodded and reduced the heat and strain. Water began to accumulate in her hair again, starting to freeze on the tips of her pigtails.

“Colin,” and the ranger seemed to slump himself. More than anyone, he had a right to be tired. He’d literally trudged twice the distance as everyone else in his constant foraying to and from the group…and being away from Kali’s trail, he’d had a harder road to travel, “back here a moment.”

“Yeah?” he asked when they were out of hearing. Then, “Hey; you sure you’re alright Faith? I know Mel’s give you the thumbs up but—gotta tell you—you’re a sight.”

Faith lifted her hand again to inspect. The back looked slightly wrinkled, an old woman’s hand. The palm…her fingers were wrinkled, like holding her hand in wash water for too long. Even with Defile Flesh off her, the curses effect lingered. Her skin felt floppy on her, loose. If she shook her hand hard enough, she was sure that part of it would fly off. “I’ll live,” was all she said of the matter.

“How about you?” she asked. “I’ve pushed you harder than the others so far. Are you up for one more go?”

“You want me to find the cave,” he said. Faith nodded.

“The less time we spend out here, the better off we’ll all be.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, slipping his mask back over his face. It crinkled into place, still frozen nearly solid after all the cold air that had passed through it today.

“Colin,” she held his arm, wincing at the touch as her fingers seemed to squish on the hard cold leather, “I need a no bull assessment. Can you find it and get back here safe? I don’t need to wander around looking for you in this mess, and like I said, I can feel how tired you are.”

The ranger only smirked. “No sweat boss. I can hack it,” and to prove it he jumped out of the heated path, trudging around the group with his stalker pet not far behind.

Faith sighed. Today had not been a shining moment for her. Indecisiveness, personal fear nearly paralyzing her. Without the whole team acting as they had, this last extended op could have ended in disaster a hundred different ways. She marveled how close they had all come to breaking. If not for Alia, Mel might still be a curled up ball on top of that ridge. Without Kali, this blizzard—it was a blizzard now, a true whiteout—would have stopped them cold in Stone Summit territory. Stephen, Colin, pushing themselves past endurance to do what needed doing.

Faith sniffed her shame. The weak link had been her, as far as she was concerned. She’d let them down, made mistakes, rash judgments, or slow choices. I’m not fit to lead…

The wind swirled and twisted, Colin appearing as a lump in the white powder. He’d hadn’t the time to make it to Anvil Rock and back yet, the feature still loomed a good distance. Still, she asked “Whats up? You find the cave already?”

“No,” the ranger answered, brushing off a pile of snow that seemed to be becoming a permanent feature of his shoulders. He felt perturbed through the link. “Well, sorta. Wrong cave but…Faith, better come have a look. Bring Melody.”

The necromancer’s eyebrows quirked in question as Melody peeked around Kali. “Me?”

“You littles.”

“Everyone else wait here,” Faith commanded. “Kali, there’s a pack of torches in Stephan’s pouch, lay them out for a fire; we may need the light soon,” and the heat if it drops any colder, Faith mused as she stepped off the path to follow the ranger.

It was not a long distance, but Faith still found the trek daunting. Melody needed help, the drifts that covered Colin up to his knees nearly burying the tiny monk. Faith was not much better, and little assistance as the two of them huddle/walked behind Colin’s shifting shape. He came back twice—once to haul them both out of a drift that had accumulated in a hole left by a long dead tree. Without the soft powder, it would have been a hard tumble for the pair. But with it, digging out had proven difficult. The second time he had returned, he had not spoken, only motioned with his hands to lower themselves and be as quiet as possible.

The three crept further into the whiteout, passing pine and spruce, their green needles thick with snow, trunks leaning halfhazardly to a side under the accumulated weight. Crept and worried until Colin raised a fist. Two short pumping motions with the fist and then a jabbed finger toward the ground: STOP! Silently come here. Even Faith knew this much of ranger handspeak. Faith pulled Melody down, crawling through the thick snow to sit hunched by a boulder with the ranger. He peered over the edge, then motioned the two up with him.

Faith could already feel something on the other side of the boulder, a mass of emotion from a link far greater than the six-man link she was part of. As she leaned over the edge, her breath caught. Several creatures sat at the edge of a cavemouth, Two sat astride each other, picking at the snow and thick matted fur covering their heads. A larger group—of smaller monsters—was running in and out of the cave while one mammoth matron stood guard. In her one massive hand was a bundle of fur, spitting angrily and impotently as it tried to escape and play with its elder siblings.

“Mountain trolls,” Faith breathed.

“Whole tribe of them,” Colin agreed. “I thought they were supposed to have migrated south for the winter by now.” He pointed to the matron again, “Looks like this group had a late birth and stayed over.”

“Are they dangerous?” Melody asked. Her hand instinctively dipped into her belt pouch and the monsterspawn inside. Cuddles remained uncharacteristically silent.

“Very,” the ranger replied. “To us. But I’m thinking about someone else we have tagging along on this little jaunt. Someone who could use a home.”

“But,” melody’s hand dipped further into the pounch. Faith could not see, but knew the monk was hugging the tiny troll to her. “Cuddles…”

“Its time Melody,” the ranger said, his voice stern. “Trolls aren’t pets; they’re free and wild. He needs to be with his own kind. And he wouldn’t thank you for keeping him from them.”

Faith tugged at the hand melody was clutching Cuddles with. The troll’s head popped out, Melody holding it in the crux of her wrist. “He’s right Mel,” the necro said. She couldn’t be as firm as Colin was on the matter. Rangers had a strange sense of those things wild; they seemed to revere them past reason. “Where we’re going will be dangerous for us all. He’ll be safer with his own kind at the least. And he’ll be happier.”

“I don’t wanna,” Melody pouted. She hugged the troll to her chest, the troll eyeing the three humans warily. It knew something was happening, sensed that they were in danger, if not from what, and was…Faith shrugged unconsciously. She had no idea what cuddles would do if faced with its own kind. It treated Melody like a surrogate mother. All other humans were for play or food.

“How do you want to do this?” Faith asked the ranger. She was ready to override Melody if she had to. Part of her was both glad and sad to see the little furball go.

“Are you sure we have to?” Melody whimpered. Colin did not appear angry or sad, happy or pleased as he nodded. Only determined, and deadly serious. Melody bowed her head, pressing the monster’s head to her chin in a last hug. Then she handed the bundle to Colin. Cuddles didn’t protest. Didn’t snap and growl and bite and scratch. He starred at Melody, perplexed and confused.

“Then,” she sniffled, “then you better hurry.”

Colin’s stonewall face finally softened at that. He bent down, looking Melody in the eye. “If you swear to keep quiet,” he said, “you can stay behind here and watch him meet his new family. Promise you can?”

Melody nodded, rubbing her red nose on her sleeve. Colin slid the trollspawn into his own pouch, motioning the two human’s and Idiot to stay put. He glided around the boulder, a silent cloaked shadow in the whiteness surrounding them. Faith slid over the surface of the boulder, watching as he moved. It wasn’t easy. Colin seemed to blend in everywhere he stopped. Under a spruce, he became a clump of fallen snow, blown by the wind. As the wind picked up, the clump sprinted away, white covered cloak tumbling like a wind devil as it flitted through another clump of trees to rest near the playing trolls. Only on his retreat was Colin more conspicuous. He moved against the wind now, still a natural; phenomenon, but not. The wind devil was gone, replaced by a flapping cloak that looked to be white and brown blowing though the foliage. Then, of a sudden, he was with them again.

“Now its to wait,” he whispered, slipping down beside them. He did no glance back, only cocked his head sideways to listen.

“Will they find him?” Melody asked, fretful with worry. Her hands wrung against one another.

“Very soon I think,” Colin replied. Then his voice returned to the stoney seriousness of before. “Remember your promise. You have to stay quiet, or you have to leave. Now.”

“Why?” Faith asked. The way he was acting, something didn’t feel right. “Whats going to happen?”

“Something good, but it won’t look that way to start. Not to yall anyway.”

Faith was about to question further when a roaring yell scratched across the boulder. It was followed by a muffled squeal. Melody and Faith leapt as one, ramrod straight and completely exposed. Colin grabbed them both by their tunicnecks, hauling the pair back behind cover. “You promised,” he hissed into their ears. “Now stay out of sight and quiet, or we’ll have more trouble on our heads than any of us can handle.

Faith and Melody peered cautiously over the boulder. The group of younglings had found Cuddles, and here tumbling him out of Colin’s belt pouch unceremoniously. The trollspawn squealed again and one of the largest of the group backhanded him, sending the baby flying. The others laughed encouragement. Melody almost shrieked, but clasped her hands over her mouth, wild-eyed with fear for her charge. She wimpered into them instead, and Faith could feel a splash of pain from the link. Mel had bit down on her finger to keep from crying out.

The game was on now. Cuddles squared off, a toothless infant against a wild adolescent. He leapt, howling challenge and the larger troll cuffed him again, sending the baby flying sideways to land in a heap. Other adult trolls had come out of the cave, watching the sport. Cuddles growled again. Running on all fours to head butt the other. The troll babe never reached his goal. Another troll sideswiped, sending the baby rolling roughly along the ground to lay face up and panting exhausted.

When he rose again, he was encircled; the troll younglings took turns, shoving the baby from one to another. Kicking and clawing, biting at his tufted head. AStill Cuddles would not relent. The largest of the younglings grabbed him again, both clawed hands bloody around the baby’s throat and started to strangle the little troll. Faith gasped, angrily preparing to step out.

The matriarch stopped her. As Cuddles feet left the ground in his chokehold, so did the younglings. The mother troll had seized it from behind, hauling both up to eye level to inspect. Cuddles still bit and clawed, losing strength as he lost air. The mother pried her youngling from him, turning the baby around in her other hand to inspect.

Another troll—perhaps the mother of the youngling—came up to her, gesturing at Cuddles and her spawn. The matriarch tossed the youngling away without concern, cradling Cuddles to her chest with her own newly born brood. One look at each other, and the two babies turned to clawing and biting anew. A new fight, two toothless creatures now, neither doing any harm to the other.

The matriarch held out the pair of fighting furballs, held up her own and barked once. Then she held out Cuddles alone, barking three times. The adults—and the younglings too—turned away, the game and spectacle over.

“There,” Colin said, patting both women on the shoulder, “he’s earned his place.

“He’s home now.”

Minus Sign · May 04, 2008, 08:42 PM // 20:42

*32*

Kali watched the swirling flakes dance across the last rays of sunlight. Night had fallen on the Shiverpeak summit, casting the world in an eerie purple glow of snow shadows; purple where there had been white, light were it should be utterly dark.

She didn’t like it. Far as they were from the group, she could still feel Melody and Faith in her mind. She could sense the shock that had flashed through the link from them, feel the anger welling in her group leader. Most of all, the thing she tensed to touch, Kali could feel the calm acceptance of Colin. What had that damn ranger done now? Had he finally betrayed them?

“They’re fine,” Stephan said at her side. With Melody perched there, he hadn’t had a chance to get close to her all day. He used this chance now, wrapping an arm around her protectively and placing himself between her and the wind. Kali typically found his strong but gentle touch welcome and comforting. This time, though, all she felt of him was that maddening sense of calm, like a rabbit munching grass. He certainly didn’t think anything was wrong, what with Alia and Colin splitting their team in two, taking their leader out into the storm with a basketcase for backup. This mission hadn’t felt right from the getgo. Faith had been acting odd in Piken, Colin kept trying to take charge. And now he’d done…something—most maddening of all that she had no idea what—that had offended every sensibility in Mel and left Faith (of all people!) aghast.

What in Balthazar’s name was going on out there?

“You’re too suspicious,” the warrior chided, tightening his grip around her waist. And rubbing her abdomen softly with his fingertips. “See? They’re already on their way back and both of em are already feeling better.”

Kali squirmed—just a little—from the ticklish touch. She glanced at Alia. The Mesmer had enough decency to keep her back to them but…that shield too. Another oddity in this deep patrol, another thing Kali didn’t like. How could you not be suspicious of someone who completely shielded all emotion from you in a link?

“You’re too trusting,” Kali retorted, nudging Stephan in his ribs lightly. The warrior grunted, doubling over in exaggerated pain.

She should stop doing that. Whenever Steph had trouble sleeping, he tossed himself into a bad position and always wound up with a stitch in his side come morning. One day she’d hit him there and it would actually hurt him.

“They’re almost here,” he said, releasing her. And like clockwork, his own mind shifted too. All the feelings he’d been sending to her twisted again—strong/stable/patient/protective chanting from him like a mantra in his mind—and he took a few steps away. Even telling him that he regularly broke that mantra when they were near one another did not stop the warrior trying to defend Melody from his emotions. It was sweet, far as Kali was concerned, and made him more endearing to her. “Aught we go out’n meet em?”

“Faith said wait,” Kali replied, turning her worries away, “we wait.” I hate waiting.

A rustle of sound through the howl; damp voices muffled by the wind. And with a suddenness that continued to surprise her after seeing Colin do it all day, three bodies stepped out of the white swirl. Melody was nearly bouncing now on the balls of her feet as she interrogated the ranger.

“And he’ll get plenty to eat though, right?” she asked, Colin shaking his head in exasperation.

“For the third time, yes!” he said, a chuckle in his tone, “I told you, we couldn’t have been more lucky. That was the brood matriarch that took him in. Not only will Cuddles be well taken care of—better than most troll spawn for sure—but when he grows up he’ll have a good chance of a high position in the family.

“What are you talking about?” Kali demanded.

“Cuddles,” Faith replied, taking a moment to get her bearings before turning back to their path, “Lets get moving.”

“What about em?” Stephan asked.

“Colin found a clan of trolls up in a cave near Anvil,” Faith said. For all the emotion that had been seeping through her in the link a while ago, the necromancer felt calm now, “Figured it was the perfect time to unload some of our baggage.”

“Is that what upset you so much?” Kali pressed. “I thought you were as ready to be ri—uh…” she glanced down at her side. Melody had already taken up her previous position, hugging tightly to Kali’s left side. “I thought you’d be happy to find him a new home.”

“I am,” Faith replied, nodding. “He’s better off where he is now than he would be with us,” she said, touching Melody’s head affectionately. “It just,” Faith shrugged, “it was a bit of a shock to watch a troll adoption.”

A shock? Kali’s mouth twisted as she chewed on the other’s words. Faith chanced a look at her, the necromancer’s eyes stern. Whatever had happened, she didn’t seem wanting to discuss it at the moment. Fine. I’ll hold my peace for now, Kali decided, But I will not be kept in the dark either, dammit!

Faith sighed with exasperated patience herself and Kali blushed. It had often been a hazard of speccing fire for her. She felt the mana so intensely, it seemed to take over a part of her, and she conceded to being something of a hothead from the start.

And ther was an edge…she didn’t know for certain—finality in Faith’s mind. She really thought this was going to be their last run.

I’ll be burned by Balthazar if it is! Kali snarled to herself. Be damned if I’ma let her die and come out they martyr hero.

“Over that way,” Colin pointed. Just beyond, the white world around Kali swirled and roared, the path forward congealing into a rock face. Above, she could still make out the pseudo shadow of Anvil Rock. Off to her left, where he pointed, a dark hole in the rock face opened, icicles crowning it like jagged teeth. “That should be the cave the dwarves told us about.”

“Let’s get under cover,” Faith said, turning the group toward the cave mouth. “We can start planning our next move for when the storm breaks.

And figure out how to get all of us out of this mess, Kali grunted, turning to follow her friend. They’ll write songs about both of us or not at all!

Minus Sign · May 23, 2008, 01:44 PM // 13:44

*33*

Before the Stone Summit had taken the Iron Horse Mine for their forward base, The Old Mine Road had been a quick way to travel between The Deldrimor Bowl and the mineral rich deposits. Some travelers could afford to pay guestright at one of the many homesteads that littered the road, a small fee that accommodated them with food and shelter—and ale; dwarves are renowned for their ale—for the night.

Those who wished to avoid paying such fees (or avoid notice from local authorities) tended to find other shelter. The Ice Cave was one such place; a hole in the mountain side that any could see, few would enter. In its heyday it had been a din for smugglers, cutthroats and a myriad of unsavory characters.

“But none are denied the Xulani,” Alia said, brushing a considerable layer of cobweb and dust from the massive chest in the back of the cave. The metal straps were scratched, the wooden box scarred from thousands of patrons haphazardly stuffing items they wished to keep, but did not wish to carry. “All who pay are offered service. All who are served, are served equally.”

The agent who had once been charged with the care of this box was long gone. Alia tugged on the thick locking clasp at the front of the box. Then it was free and the massive strongbox opened.

Faith had seen the inside of a Xulani storage box once. The massive strongbox had opened for the patron, a segmented shelf filled with possessions the man using it had stored within—at another box, in another city. He had placed his new loot in the Xulani box and stepped aside. When another patron opened the box, the scene was considerably different. Reams of parchment, a handful of rubies and ingots of gold shimmered and tumbled from the Xulani Storage Box. He had set a platinum ingot in a heavy bag, and moved down the line.

Faith had been filled with wonder at the magic and power these people must have. It was an amazing spectacle of magical commerce in action.

It did not look like this.

The chest opened, its interior a hole of eternal blackness stretching to the center of the world. Wind howled out, a mocking roar to echo the snow storm outside.

This world is not for you now traitor, came a voice. Faith shivered. But not one voice. Every voice. For a moment, Faith was certain that every Xulani Agent in every city of the world had noticed Alia’s intrusion. Every eye was turned to this little dilapidated strongbox in the heart of a cave, in the middle of no-man’s-land.

Alia stiffened. She did not look angry as much as insulted. “I have an account,” she snapped. The wind in the box hissed menacingly. No longer solid black and empty, a mist of angry fog began to roll out of the box's open top. Alia glowered at the fog as it trickled down to her ankles. “Will you deny one who has paid for service?”

We deny no one, The box snapped haughtily. The Xulani exist to serve.

The fog receded, the mummer of angry voices withered away. At last a single tone spoke, a man with a bitter twist in his throat. Your name.

“Alia Peacebound,” the Mesmer replied.

The fog vanished in a flippant puff, curls of smoke spraying away from the nearly empty box. Faith looked inside.

It was the same multi-tiered shelf the men had used when she first saw a Xulani box. Alia had placed a spare set of clothes within, and a small purse that was probably filled with coin.

“How much is service?” the necromancer asked, curious.

“Fifty gold a patron,” Alai replied. “And another five gold per year or use. In wartime, many countries will pay the use fee for conscripts. We were…” the Mesmer trailed off, her gaze distant, “my parents were brokering a deal with Aderlbern to do just that for your guilds before the char invaded. You will not need worry over such. I allow you use of my account.”

Noted, the bitter man said from the box.

“Its impressive magic,” Faith mused, pulling her belt pouch loose and beginning to place each of her looted gems into a single small container. Alia pulled a larger pack from behind her back, unceremoniously dumping its contents into the box. An unseen hand guided the shower of jewels into a small niche in the corner. Impossibly, the tiny container held them all.

“Kali,” Faith turned to the elementalist, “I need to have a talk with you for a minute. Colin; you too.”

“GL’s only club starting up?” Stephan chided.

“Yes, actually,” Faith replied, her tone serious but unconcerned. “Comeon you two,” and the necromancer turned back toward the mouth of the cave.

Stephan watched them go. What was all that about? Faith didn't usually segregate information. It was either all in or something over all their heads. Where there some special orders—something that the grunts weren't allowed to know—that Faith ahd decided she needed to share with the other Gls?

Stephan considered this. It might explain her strange behavior today. She'd been subdued where she was typically brash, humorless for much of the trip and—what really worried him—solitary and quiet. Faith wasn't a great conversationalist, but she spoke her mind plain. She was holding something back from them, using the rearguard as an excuse to keep her thoughts private.

Meh, he chided silently to himself, Not my worry. Gls need to have a powwow thats their business. Sides; Kali'll fill me in tonight between shifts

He stepped to the box and dumped his loot in as Alia had. The box's magic turned the pouring cascades of gems and gold toward special cubbyholes that somehow managed to hold them. He grunted in surprise as a large cache of gold coin disappeared, replaced by a fat platinum sliver. “So, ah,” he said, speaking awkwardly at the box, “We can get at this ere stuff from anywhere there's another box, right?”

That is correct, the man's voice replied. He didn't seem as grumpy speaking to Stephan as he had to Alia.

“An there ain't no charge?”

Your fees have been waved by Prince Rurik of Ascalon, the box said.

“That's...thats great.” Stephan turned to the monk behind him, Melody standing with her hands behind her back, head cocked to a side as she stared into space. “Hey Mel. Wanna drop your loot too? Easier to keep it here than carry it around.”

“Huh?” Melody jerked, coming out of her fog, “Loot?” she looked at him quizically. Then giggled. “Oh. You mean Faith's stuff. She asked me to hold onto some bags for her.”

“Yeah, well,” the warrior gave a head shake. Peace and Harmony tended to turn Melody a little ditzy after a hard day...and today had been a toughy. “She's already put all her extra stuff in here. Probably'd like you to do the same with you—her other bags.”

“I'll be fried by ice before I follow him!”

Melody jumped, turning back to the cave mouth. Kali had her fists at her sides, staring down the short necromancer.

“Keep your voice down,” Faith growled back.

“Grenth I will, if you think--”

“Kali,” Colin said, stepping in to difuse the two. Stephan shook his head, wincing. Wrong move ranger, “I think this is what she's talking about.”

Two pairs of eyes turned to study the ranger, Kali's burning, Faith's hard steel.

“Shaddap!” Kali snapped again. Faith grabbed the two by an elbow, hauling them further away from the cave.

“What about a song?” Stephan asked intot he interviening silence. Alia had one arm foled under her breasts, holding her other at the elbow as she rubbed her chin with her fingers. Melody's eyes had widened to the size of silver coins, the hazel looking gray in the dim light. “I could do with a song after that walk Mel.”

“I dunno,” the monk said, turning her attention back to him. She still looked dreamily off, half of her mind somewhere else. “I miss Cuddles,” she said at last.

Stephan grunted. He didn't exactly miss that psychotic bag of fur, but the monk had grown quite attached in the recent months to her little pet. A loss would explain some of her—he repressed a sigh. PnH was probably doing everything it could to remove every trace of the troll from her mind. In a day, she wouldn't think about it anymore. In a few months, she would like as not have forgotten it completely without being reminded.

Need to get you off that spell girl, he thought, and not the first time, can't grow up if you don't remember your roots. But that would have to wait for a different life, a safer place. “Comeon,” he said in the meantime. “Music will cheer you up.”

“Well,” Melody considered. “There is one song. Jole’s in the Thicket. I used to sing that with…someone. She let me sing it whenever I wanted.”

“Hmm,” Stephan said mused, a little mischievous glint curling through his smile. He'd heard of the song several times, and had heard Faith warn Mel off singing it. The few times she'd started it, the times she'd been humming the tune, it had sounded far too lighthearted for Faith to be interested in. “Lets have a go at it,” he said, hunmkering down on the ground and wiping his hands to clear away debris.

“Okie dokey,” Melody bounced on the balls of her feet. Alia had turned from her retrospection of the Group Leaders and studied the monk with equal interest. Stepha smiled, patting at a place for the mesmer to sit.

Melody took a deep breath, clapping her hands together. She waved back and forth slowly, clapping her hands in a simple clap-clap, clap-clap, clap-clap-clap rhythm. “The first part isn't sung,” she said, and started.

“Jole you dope
You silly slowpoke
You make a mess
All the people spoke.

“There’s water in the wheat
And the milk is goanna blight
And so now we can’t eat
And its you we’re goanna beat

“So get out out out
All the people shout!

Melody giggled to herself, taking true enjoyment from the short nonsense poem. Put something did tickle at Stephan's mind. He hadn't heard this song before, anywhere but from Mel. It was one her hers. It was--

She started, and the tune was as upbeat as he remembered.

“Jole’s in the thicket
Ain’t he neat
Got a pack on his shoulder
What a treat

“Tried to slack off but he got beat
When he come to the tent to see me

“A rope on my foot
What a joke!
Jole cuts a rope and says
'Come on slowpoke!'

And he runs to a slope
with a tall dead oak
And hides in the thicket with me

“Jole’s got a bow
and he takes my hand
but he won't drop the bow
cause he's got a plan

“And the people start to shout
And they're sounding mad
Cause there's nobody there and no way to pair
When they come to the tent to see me

“Jole says to go
and we start to run
But the people start to shout
And he hides in the thicket with me

“So Jole lays down to take a sleep
He watches the clouds
And he starts to weep
Cause—

“Mel!” Faith called, her voice full of pain. Then, a whisper. “Gods, stop.”

Stephan was staring at the monk, his mouth hanging open.

“I hate that damn song,” Kali whispered, coming to hug Melody to her.

Stephan exhaled the breath he'd been holding, still staring at Melody open mouthed. It was one of her songs. One of [i[hers[/i].

“Why?” the monk pouted, hugging the elementalist back. The two held each other tightly and Faith came over, putting putting her hands on their shoulders awkwardly. “Its fun.”

“I,” Alia, swallowed hard, her eyes focused coolly on the trio as she walked slowly toward them. She set her lip, steeling herself with purpose.

And with the look of a mesmer with a patient needing care. “I...liked that song Melody. Would yoo like to sing iht for meh sometime?” She glanced at the elementalist, at Colin's pale complexion, at Stephan's shock. “In private, preferrably.”

“Tasha,” Stephan whispered quietly to the monk, remembering his short time with her therapist in Piken Square. “You said you forgot who you used to sing it with,” he looked at Faith and Kali, realising again that there were certain things he would never completely understand about this group of people who he had grown so close to.

That there was a past he was not a part of...and thank the Gods for it in some respects.

“Her name was Tasha Mel.”