Trell - 2

He was startled awake several hours later to the sound of something large moving through the brush. He sat up slowly and leaned against one of the trees. The moon had just crested the ridge but was not bright enough to see very far, but the white bark of the aspen trees provided stark contrast to the darkness around them.

He watched and listened for several minutes as the sound drew closer. He could tell now that there was about four creatures approaching with measured and steady steps. Then he saw them as they entered the grove. Four men with swords drawn about fifty yards away crouched and moving directly toward him.

Adrenaline surged through him as they drew closer. He drew his swords and called out to them: “Who are you? What do you want?”

One of the men responded in a low voice, “Ah, it can speak… Get it!”

The four men began to run straight for him. In that moment his training kicked in, and he made an immediate tumble to the left about ten feet, and began a battle dance dodging and weaving through the trees. The men spread out to surround him, and he knew he had to face them one at a time or he would be overwhelmed. He chose the man who had given the order to pounce.

Trell danced and weaved through the trees working to isolate the man from the other three until he saw his chance. He ran straight for him. The man raised his sword in both hands and brought it down with immense force. The blow was easy to sidestep, and left the man open. Taking this advantage, Trell leapt right over the mans head. His jump and twist landed him facing the mans back, and he didn’t wait for the man to recover from his surprise.

As the man turned, bringing his sword up again, Trell placed a blow on the mans forearm incapacitating his right hand. The man screamed dropping his sword, and Trell rammed him in the chest with his horns as hard as he could. The man stumbled back, tripped, and landed in a seated position with his good arm behind him to catch his fall.

Trell was immediately on top of him with both swords surging straight for the mans chest when an arrow struck him in the side. Trell’s blows went wide, glancing off the mans ribs and leaving him off balance. As he fell, Trell twisted planting his shoulder right in the man’s chest before rolling off and back to his feet.

On his feet, Trell could tell that the arrow had not done any severe damage, passing through his right side just above his hip, it had pierced the muscle for a few inches and passed clean through. It was bleeding, but not enough worry about at the moment.

Trell had a pretty good idea where the other three men were, and knew he had to reach the bowman quickly. Pausing for a moment, he saw the other three, the two on the his right and left were dashing through the woods, converging on the him. The third was standing working with something at his feet.

Without hesitation, Trell dashed straight for him, beginning by planting his hoof right in the stomach of the man at his feet, hoping it would be enough to keep him from getting up. As he ran, the two on his left and right converged on him, each swinging wildly as he approached. Trell easily dodged both strokes, and was quickly approaching the man in front of him.

Again Trell leapt into the air, right over the mans head. Startled, the man looked up just as Trell launched. As he landed, Trell coiled and sprung straight at the man’s back. This man was wearing a cloak which obscured his anatomy, so Trell had no choice but to strike at his heart. His right sword struck the man square in the back, and the force of Trell’s assault drove the blade in to the hilt where it remained wedged.

Trell’s momentum propelled both of them forward, with the man landing face down on the ground and Trell landing on top of him. Trell immediately got his hooves under him, and knowing the other two men would be right above him, he leapt forward rolling several time before springing to his feet. They had both landed blows as he rolled past them, one glancing along his left arm and shoulder and the other across is calf and thigh. Neither has severed any muscles, and Trell quickly danced his way out of range of their swords.

Tossing his remaining blade to his strong hand, Trell continued to dance and weave among the trees to keep the remaining men off balance. They seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, and Trell took the opportunity to let out a yell powered by magic. What erupted from his mouth was not the yell of a young faun, but the roar of a massive lion. The two remaining men dropped their weapons and fled, terrified out of their minds.

At first Trell thought of pursuing them, but quickly decided against it. He was pretty sure that the second man he had attacked was dead, but the other one could be up at any moment, so Trell first went to retrieve his other blade.

The sword was stuck fast, and only gripping it with both hands and pulling with all the strength of his back and legs was he able to free it. The man that had received the blow did not move.

He quickly moved to where the leader of the gang had fallen, and was surprised to find that he was unconscious. Whether from bleeding, from being landed on, or the hoof to the stomach, Trell did not know, but immediately went to work to keep him alive.

The man’s right arm had nearly been severed, but Trell’s training stabilized that very quickly. Slicing off the man’s shirt Trell could see that the man would not live long. His horns had caught the man mid chest, and probably cracked his sternum. It was amazing that his heart was still beating. There were certainly ribs broken on both sides, and the impact had opened two gashes, but the thing of biggest concern was the mans abdomen. It was bulging and getting hard. Trell knew immediately that the man was bleeding internally very badly, and there was no way to stop it with a bandage.

So trell took strips of the man’s shirt and bound up his chest. He then placed both hands on the mans stomach and summoned his magic. The spell sent shivers through Trell’s hands and made the mans entire abdomen begin to glow a soft white blue color. Again and again Trell summoned his magic, each time the swelling subsided further. Then, as Trell conjured the last remaining magic he possessed, he saw the glow spread from the man’s stomach to his chest taking some of the swelling and slowing the spread of blood through the makeshift bandage. The man was certainly not out of danger, but Trell had done all the could for now. In the morning he could look for some herbs that might accelerate the healing, but for now he had to concern himself with the other two men that could return at any moment.

Trell cleaned and sheathed his blades, and collected the weapons of the wounded man. He had only the large sword and a vicious looking serrated dagger that was probably poisoned. Trell decided to leave that in its sheath and remove the mans entire weapon belt. To his surprise, also on the weapon belt, was a small pouch that held a handful of silver coins, but Trell didn’t give it a second thought.

Taking the weapon belt, and sheathing the sword, Trell collected the two sword that the other men men had dropped. He then went to the cloaked man who was lying face down. The ground under him was quickly soaking up the mans life blood. Removing the man’s cloak, Trell was surprised to find it almost entirely free of blood except right in the middle of the back where his sword had deposited some blood when it was withdrawn. Tossing this aside, Trell rolled the man onto his back. This man also had a long dagger, but not the wicked serrated kind that the other man had. He also had a quiver of short strong arrows, and a small pouch that contained a few small black stones, probably gems of some kind, and a ring.

Removing the mans belt, trell noticed that when the man had fallen, it was directly on his bow which was damp and partially covered in dead leaves. As Trell nudged it with his foot, he could tell it was very strange, so he found a clean part of it and raised it up to get a look at it. It was actually a very small bow about the breadth of three hands, but it was attached to a large wooden mechanism. Curious, but nervous of being ambushed, Trell tossed all the weapons, including the bow into a small hollow by a fallen tree and covered them with leaves.

He then bound some leaves against his wounds, and took the dead man’s cloak as a sort of disguise, and found a protected spot between a fallen tree and a couple of live trees. From this point he could see both men laying on the ground and focussed all of his attention to listening.

The night passed slowly for Trell, but the night sounds returned after a few minutes, and eventually the sky began to lighten and then the sun began to dissolve the shadows. The wounded man did not awaken, and as the morning wore on he decided to check on the man’s bandages.

Trell found the man sweating and his arm had begun to bleed pretty badly; the bandage was completely soaked. The man’s stomach had softened and was clear except for a large bruise. His chest was doing moderately well, but it too had nearly soaked through the bandages before the healing had stopped it. The man was also very pale, and his heart seemed to beat weakly in his chest. Trell moved swiftly to change the bandages using strips of the cloak this time to cover and bind the wounds.

Trell knew that the man was in desperate shape, and needed additional healing, but without a nights’ sleep, Trell could not draw upon his magic again. So he decided to try to find some herbs or even some mud that might help close the wounds.

He was also worried about the other men, wondering if they were planning an ambush or had simply abandoned their companions. Glancing to the spot where he knew the weapons lay he was a could see that the spot was not well hidden. He quickly uncovered the weapons and tied the two weapon belts together, and took the small belt pouches before covering the weapons back up, and disguising it is a pile of leaves. He used the belts to raise the wounded man up to lean against a tree, and tied him there with the belts. He knew the man would not be comfortable like this, but he was not willing to take the chance that that the man might slip away.

He then decided to track the men. He was moderately relieved to find that their tracks were coming and going following the same route. Following this, and moving as quietly as he could, Trell climbed up the side of the ridge to a point where a small cut allowed him passage through a fifteen foot drop.

The tracks were easy to follow at this point, and had become a regular path that had been used many times. Cautiously peering above the ledge at the top of the cut, Trell could see the path continued up the hill to his left and went into a small opening between two huge rocks that sat atop the loose slope of dirt and rocks before him. Knowing that his approach would have no cover following the path, he decided instead to climb to the base of the rocks by traveling up the slope to his right. In this way he could walk along the base of the rocks where his approach would be less conspicuous.

He reached the rocks with very little noise or dust, and approached the opening with swords drawn. As he peeked into he opening he could see that the gap turned into a tunnel about thirty feet back where another large rock and some debris had fallen across it. Beyond that, he could see the sky, but nothing else.

As he passed through the tunnel, he could see that the far side opened onto a slope down, much like the one that he had ascended. The path turned sharply to the left and followed the base of the rocks before turning again into an opening between large boulders. He had no choice but to move as quickly and quietly as he could along this path, and peek into the opening.

Inside this gap were two paths, one seemed to lead up to the top of the boulders and the other turned into a large cave formed by rocks leaning together. Trell paused for a minute to let his eyes adjust and then slipped into the cave.

It was about a hundred feet deep and narrowed from twenty feet wide at the mouth to only a few feet at the back where smaller rocks had filled the gap. Strewn across the floor of the cave were several piles of stuff, and the glowing embers of a campfire, but no sign of anyone, so Trell turned his attention to the path that led up on top of the boulders.

This path was really a series of rocks that formed an uneven but serviceable stair. Poking his head above the rocks he could see that rocks were flat on top, and were formed as the ridge broke up. He had his back to the western sky, and to his right the ridge disintegrated into scattered boulders and then fell off entirely. To his left the ground was less broken, and formed itself into an ever widening plateau.

The path split, the more used path to the right where a person could see down onto both sides of the ridge; this was used a lot, and swept clean with the frequent usage. To the left the path had only been used a few times, and wound its way across the small plateau where it eventually seemed to climb to ever higher ridges until it disappeared entirely.

Trell ventured out to the right, and laid on the rock to reduce his chances of being seen. From this point he could see the road below him, and could pick out the grove of trees where he had be attacked. He could not see the bodies through the leaves, but knew they would still be there. As his eyes followed the road south and up the ridge, he could see every foot of it until it made a sharp turn to the left near the summit. On the other side of the ridge, to the east, he could again see the road once it reached about five miles from the ridge. It ran over hills, and through gullies, but he could follow it for many miles into the distance. Then, far away at the horizon, he could see the dark wall of his home. He paused only a moment before turning back to the west side of the ridge.

From the grove of trees the road turned west, descending that last hundred feet to the plains, and then running in an unbroken line for many miles toward the dark Keltorin mountain range in the distance.

Trell realized that from this point the men could have watched him for days, waiting and planning their assault. And even if he had look up toward the ridge from the grove of aspen trees, he would not have been able to see the men descend and approach. He wondered if these men just stayed here, and waited to attack travelers like himself. It was an uncomfortable thought, but probably not far from the truth.

Before descending back down to the cave, Trell decided to take a look at the path that ran north up the ridge. With the light rain two nights ago, he could tell that there were only two pair of fresh tracks on this path, and he felt confident that the remaining men had abandoned their companions.

Back in the cave Trell found two bedrolls, several water skins full of water, two packs, a wooden box of dried meat, another box of potatoes, and a large wooden barrel of water about half full. It was clear from the marking in the dust that two other bedrolls had been here as well, but they had been hastily grabbed as the men fled.
Trell was very excited to see the potatoes, and while he did not like to eat meat, he knew this jerked meat would provide him some strength. The potatoes had a great deal of growth on them, but he was able to find some that were still firm. With those, a strip of the jerked mean, and a good long drink, he was very much refreshed, and once again turned his thoughts to the injured man.

He searched the packs and found that they were nearly empty except for some clothing, and a length of rope in each. So he filled both packs with the potatoes and meat, grabbed the larger of the two bedrolls and headed back down the hill.

Back in the grove, the wounded man had not moved, and his bandages were holding very well. His breathing was shallow, and his heartbeat was faint, but he has stopped sweating. This might mean the man was dehydrated and in dire straights, or that he was doing better, but Trell knew the either way, the man was going to need water very soon. He also knew that he needed to rest and regain his strength, that his magic was probably the only chance this man had of living.

Laying the man back on the ground between two trees, Trell tied one end of a rope around the man’s neck, just loose enough to breath, and the other end around a tree. With the other rope he tied the man’s feet together and the other end to a tree. The belts he tied around the mans waist and good arm with the buckles out of reach. Then he poured some water down the mans throat, and buried the dead man in a shallow grave near where he had fallen. As he was tying the man up he also noticed a that he wore a sliver ring on the index finger of his left hand. He removed this and placed it in the pouch he had taken from the man’s belt.

Next Trell prepared a spot for himself where he could see the wounded man without being seen. He also placed the two large packs out of sight of the man. Then he settled down to try to sleep for while.

While he drifted off to sleep, he decided to take a look at the two belt pouches again. Starting with the one taken from the wounded man, he counted out fifty six silver pieces. The ring he had taken from the man was a simple silver ring with no adornments at all. This he placed back in the pouch with the silver coins.

The other pouch had four smooth black stones and a ring. The stones, Trell discovered, were not truly black, but were a very dark red, and when held up to the sun, they took on a blood red color. The ring was a very beautiful gold ring with three small diamonds set into a channel. Two of the diamonds gave a faint yellow glow, and as he held the ring, he knew that knew that it held a spell that would allow wood to be warped and shaped like putty.

As the ring imparted the knowledge of the spell to him he began to wonder he the man he had killed was a spell-caster or if he had acquired the ring through some wicked means. Either way his interest was piqued, and while he had expended his spells for the time being, he could still perform a few magic effects. One of those was to detect the magic that existed in things around him. So using this ability he took another look at the the contents of the pouches.

He confirmed that ring with the three diamonds was magical, but that the black gems were not. Back in the other pouch he could see that the ring was in fact magical. He brought it back out and studied it for several minutes determining that it provided a small magical protection to its wearer. He placed this on one of his fingers where it fit snugly.

With his magic detection still active he went back to the wounded man and found that his boots provided some type of magic enhancement, but he did not study them long enough to determine what that was. After all, they certainly would not work on his hooves, and they were tied up, and would take a considerable effort to remove them and retie the mans feet. He did however pour a little more water down the mans throat.

He passed by the grave of the dead man, but could not detect any magic; whether because of the dirt and rocks covering the body, or because there simply was none, he could not tell. He knew the covering of leaves was not enough to mask the presence of magic, but since he could sense no magic from them, he did not uncover them again, but returned to his resting spot to sleep.

He slept for several hours, but came awake suddenly realizing that he had slept until after dark. The moon had not yet cleared the ridge, and it was very dark in the grove of trees, but he could tell that the man was still lying where Trell had tied him. Still tired, Trell allowed himself to nod off again, at least until the moon was up so he could see a little better.

When he awoke again, the moon was high in the sky, and he could indeed see a bit better. He crept over to the man, and found him in the same condition as before. Pouring a little more water down his throat, Trell once again returned to his resting spot. He ate a potato, a cactus leaf, and drank a good draught of water. He could also feel that his magic was refreshed, and debated whether to provide additional healing to the wounded man now or wait until the sun was up. After a few minutes of internal debate he decided on heal the man sooner rather than later.

Rising from his spot he moved over to the man, removed the bandages from his chest, and placed his hands on the damaged area. Once again the whitish blue light passed into the mans chest repairing much of the damage he had sustained from Trell’s horns. One additional casting removed all but the purple bruise from his chest. As he concluded the spell, the man moaned and began to shift.

Taking a step back, Trell drew his weapons incase the man was able to free himself. But his caution was unfounded. The man did open his eyes, but stared blankly into the sky. He began to move his arms and legs, but cried out as he shifted his right arm. He then attempted to sit up, but immediately the rope around his neck pulled him back down. He then tried to free his left arm and his legs, but to no avail, he was very much immobilized.

After a few minutes of struggling the man resigned himself to his fate and began to actively look around. Eventually his eyes came across Trell, and he squinted, trying to figure out who or what he was looking at. He apparently could not see very clearly because he let out a low growl, “Snake, is that you? If you don’t let me up right now, I will rip your throat out with my bare hands.”

Surprised by the viciousness of the verbal assault, Trell was taken aback for a moment, and wasn’t sure how to respond.

The man again demanded in a low growl, “Let me up or I swear I’ll…”

What that the man again tried to break free of his binding only to freeze as his right arm slid off his stomach and dropped onto the ground. He growled again, but this time in deep pain, and then went silent. The man again began to sweat, and cough as the pain slowly subsided.

Finally Trell decided to speak. “I do not want to kill you, and I can help with that arm if you will allow me.”

“Who are you?” the man growled in response, “… and where are my men?”

“Your cloaked friend was killed when you attacked me, but the other two have fled. I don’t know where they are.” said Trell.

With a sound that sounded a bit like a growl and a moan, the man fell silent trying to calm his breathing and the pain in his arm.

After a short pause Trell asked, “Would you like me to help with that arm?”

The man replied in a softer, but still angry tone, “Whatever!”

Cautiously Trell sheathed his blades and knelt beside the man. He unwrapped the arm and placed it gently back on the mans stomach. The man grounds his teeth, and his eyes flashed in anger and pain, but he did not make a move.

Trell, once again called forth his magic, and the light flowed into the man’s arm beginning to close up the wound. One additional casting closed the surface wound completely, but Trell knew the deeper wounds to the bones and nerves were not so easily healed. One final time he called forth his most powerful magic, and the entire lower arm seemed to glow for a few seconds.

The man’s breathing slowed, and he lay still for a minute. Then in a flash, Trell realized his mistake. With lightning like speed the man swung his right arm up to Trell’s throat, but rather than gripping, the hand simply slapped his neck. Trell was instantly on his feet, swords drawn.

The man quickly moved his right arm over to free his left, but again the hand just slapped against the belts. With all the rage the man could muster he let out a growling yell, and once again, strained against all of his bindings, but still he could not get free.

The mans breath hissed through his teeth as Trell watch the man bring his right hand to his left, and began to explore the limp right one with his left. After a moment the man exploded again in a growling yell that ended in a hiss that sounded like “I am going to kill you, you little demon.”

Trell watched for several more minutes as the man wore himself out struggling against the ropes and the belts. He would shift his feet, and thrust his limp hand at the rope around his neck and the belts around his arm and waist. He tried to work the belt up or down his body, but still could not free his arm. Finally, the man rolled to his side and nearly strangled himself trying to break the rope around his neck. But eventually he laid back coughing and hissing out threats that were terrible to hear.
When he had regained control of himself he hissed, “What are you going to do with me?”

Trell paused for a few seconds to consider, then hesitantly said, “I don’t know. I wanted to find out why you had attacked me, but…” he pathed of for a moment then finished: “Why did you attack me?”

The man laughed in response, “We just wanted to catch you as a slave, or kill you and take those stupid little swords you have.” He pathed off into a deep throated laugh.
Trell was absolutely stunned. Such malicious intent he had never before experienced. But, now he started to understand Chêne’s words. His mental picture of the world changed from forests full of dancing fairies, to that of evil creatures hiding behind every tree, and vicious monsters always looking for a meal. The change was sudden, and Trell was not entirely conscious of the change, but optimism nearly died right there on the spot.

He replied to the man in as vicious a voice as he could muster, “Maybe I should just kill you.”

The man scoffed and spit back at him, “You already have.”

The man turned his face away from Trell, but he could not hide the bulging muscles in his cheek. Trell could not tell wether the man was planning an escape of some kind, or a suicide, but he was clearly not going to just lie there.

Trell stood over the man pondering on what he would do with him, when he abruptly rolled over, and growled, “Kill me now! Kill me or give me my sword so I can kill you!”

The fire in the man’s eyes was frightening to see, and for a moment Trell actually considered ending the man’s life as requested.

Minutes passed and the two glared at each other. The man’s eyes ablaze with hatred, and Trell’s with pity and confusion.

Finally Trell attempted a bargain, “If I help you find your friends, would you let me go in peace?”

The man burst into wicked laughter for several seconds, before a thought struck him, and he changed his tone. “Fine!” He blurted out. “You help me find my… friends…”, the word was suspiciously sarcastic, “… and I’ll let you live out the rest of your miserable life wandering around the desert.”

Trell did not like this new devious sounding tone, but he had agreed to the plan, so he began to figure out how he could carry out his offer.

The man accepted another long drink and some meat before Trell returned to his resting spot. The man seemed to settle down, but Trell was pretty sure he was going try again to escape, and knew that the man would kill him if he caught Trell asleep, so Trell climbed into one of the larger trees and secured himself to a branch with the straps from his pack.

Trell was not overly tired, having slept for about eight hours already, and knew that sleep would not refresh his magic, not yet anyway. So, he stayed awake most of the night watching and listening. the man did try to get out of his bonds several times, leaving him bruised and panting at the effort, but had he broken free, Trell was in little danger from him.

Trell could not tell how much the man slept, but he was able to doze off for about an hour himself, waking just before dawn. He watched the sky brighten and and the man remained still. As soon as the sun began to work its way down the distant mountains, Trell slipped out of the tree and over to the man. The man seemed to be sleeping, so Trell nudged him with his foot. The man jumped and struggled against the ropes for a few seconds before lying still, staring up at Trell.

“What kind of devil are you?” the man asked.

“umm… what?” stuttered Trell.

“What kind of creature are you? Are you one of the cursed Satyrs?” he returned.

“No,” said Trell, “I am a Faun. The Satyrs are cruel and selfish. We Fauns revere in honor and kindness, not lechery and trickery.”

“Whatever.” said the man. “Are you going to drag me like this, or let me go so I can walk?”

Trell considered for a minute, but could see no way but to give the man at least the use of his legs. But, rather than let the man have the full use of his legs, he tied them with a short length of the rope, and tied that rope up the mans back and around his neck, effectively hobbling him to walking stride.

When the man got to his feet, to try out his new bonds, he spit a few vulgar words at Trell, and then demanded that they get going. Trell loaded one of the packs on the mans back without loosing his good arm, and took the other pack himself, his own small pack easily fitting into the larger. He took is staff in his left hand and kept one of his swords drawn in his right.

They climbed the slope, passed through the cleft in the ledge, and the higher slope to the rocks. At the cave, Trell filled all of their water skins, and then ascended to the plateau above. Trell kept the man in front of himself incase he tried anything, and just as Trell gained the ledge at the top of the plateau, the man spun quickly with an elbow aimed at Trell’s head. While Trell was expecting it, the speed of the move surprised him, and the elbow hit Trell in the cheek, sending him over the ledge.

The initial fall was about thirty feet, but the slope Trell landed on was mostly loose dirt and small rocks, and he took very little damage from the fall itself. The fall did knock the wind out of him, and before Trell knew what was happening, he was tumbling down the dirt slope toward the ledge. He knew instantly that he would not be able to stop before going over the ledge, so rather than trying to stop, he took control of his tumble, and vaulted off the ledge so that he could land on his hooves at the bottom of the drop.

This second drop was about twenty feet, but he landing was among larger rocks and more vegetation that did not give way as much as the dirt above. He landed squarely on both hooves, but was unable to sustain the momentum of the fall. His knees buckled and hit the ground hard. He pitched forward down the slope, and his hands and elbows hit hard. His momentum, still not spent, sent he sliding down he slope on his belly for about ten feet before running headlong into a large boulder. The boulder stopped him, and never had Trell been more grateful for his horns, because he was only dizzied by the rock rather having his skull smashed in.

Trell took a quick inventory of his wounds, and found that while his hands were only scratch, both forearms, his belly, and his legs were scratched and bleeding badly. Looking around, he saw that his pack had rolled all the way to the bottom of the slope, and slammed into a tree about a quarter mile below him.

By the time he reached the pack, his arms, legs, and belly were throbbing. Dirt and blood covered much of the front of his body, and he could tell that he had twisted one of his ankles. He retrieved the clothing from the bottom of his pack and tore it into strips as bandages; these he applied after washing each of the gashes. None of his wounds were life threatening, but several were deep and his entire front and arms were covered in small scrapes and cuts. Finally, he bound his injured ankle to protect and strengthen it, but even still he would be leaning heavily on his staff at least until he could regain his magic.

With the bleeding stopped, He took a quick inventory of what was left in the pack. The potatoes had been crushed pretty badly, and filled the pack with mash. His waterskin had popped open, and one of his other two had burst, leaving him very little water after washing his cuts. He had dropped the staff and sword that he had in his hands, but could probably retrieve them from above the ledge.

Now his problem was what to do about the man. Trell did not want to be watching over his shoulder for the rest of his life, but the man now had a bit of a head start, even if he was still hobbled. He pondered on the idea of just continuing along the road, but quick rejected that idea. He would rather be a hunter than the hunted. So he started climbing back up to the cut in the ledge.

The darkwood staff stood out against the lighter colored dirt and rocks, but the sword was a bit harder to find. With a bit of luck and glint from the sun he found it mostly hidden behind a rock. With those back he made his way back up to the cave as quickly as he could. There he filled the two good canteens and cleaned a bit more of the dirt off his body before launching himself into pursuit of the man that had attacked him twice.

It was clear by the mans tracks that he had found a way to cut the rope around his ankles, and had started off at a good run. Looking ahead, there appeared to be some dust that might be from the man’s passage, but he could not tell for sure. Trell also guessed that the man knew the fastest way to get wherever he was going, so he didn't try to out think him with a shortcut, but just moved as quickly as he could on his hurt ankle.

By nightfall Trell had climbed two more ridges and was beginning to climb a third as the sun set in the west. The pain in his ankle was almost unbearable, and Trell knew he had to rest.

He found a crevasse a little way off the path that only allowed entrance from one direction. Although this would trap him if the man returned with help, it would still only allow one man to attack him at a time. So, Trell settled in as best he could on the rocks to try to sleep.

His ankle throbbed, and some cool wrappings helped the pain some, but it still made it difficult to fall asleep. He awoke several times, but knew he needed to rest more to

regains his magic, so he forced himself to sleep.

Eventually, he awoke rested, and could feel his magic returning. He placed his hands on his hurt ankle and summoned what magic he could. It was not a particularly powerful healing spell, but it was enough to mend his ankle and some of the cuts on his legs. He ate a cactus, a handful of potato mash, and strip of meat at set off.

Back on the path he was able to move much faster, and even in the moonlight had no problem following the mans bootprints. He travelled through the remaining hours of the night and early dawn. As the sky lightened he quickened his pace a little more and began to look for signs of the path ahead and perhaps even catch sight of the man. He quickly realized that he would see nothing until he crested the next ridge so took a quick drink and redoubled his pace to a trot. He was noisy at this pace, but he wanted to chance to get to the top of the ridge as fast as he could.

This ridge like so many before was flat on top, but the last bit was always a vertical cliff. Up until this time the path had managed to find a crevasse or cut in the rock that would allow access to the top, but this one smoother, and no such feature existed. The path ran right up the the face of the cliff and disappeared.

Trell took a few minutes to study the area, and came to the conclusion that men had gone straight up the cliff, probably with a rope or ladder of some kind. But whatever they had used was nowhere in sight, so he was forced to make an attempt at free climbing. He could use the remaining rope that he had to get up the cliff, but he could use it to stop him from tumbling down the mountain if he slipped. So he tied one end to his ankle and the other to a rock at the bottom, and began the climb.

It was a difficult climb, but moving slowly, he made is way to the top where tree roots and branches help him the final few feet. Once on top Trell took a squick glance around, and finding himself alone, untied the rope from his ankle, and tied it to the tree incase he needed to get back down. As he did so he found another rope coiled in a nook by the roots. It was still tied to one of the roots. The man must have pulled it up after climbing up. Trell decided to leave both ropes, and started to search for the man’s path again.

He discovered that this area above the cliff had been trampled a lot. There were even signs of horses having been here at some time. Trell quickly found the three fresh pairs of bootprints that set off on a well-worn path. As Trell began to move along the path he took stock of his surroundings.

He was now in a forrest of strange short grotesquely shaped trees that only grew about fifteen feet tall. Their bark was gray, dry as sand, and came off in long strips that made the trunks look like unkept shaggy monsters. The leaves were bizarre. They were not like the pine needles or the broad leaves of his forest, but looked more like small greenish branches. The trees also had hard dry berries that ranged from green to blue in color, and they tasted like sand. There was certainly no moisture to be gained from them, and he doubted they would provide any more substance that the wood of the tree.

The ground under the trees was almost completely barren. What plants did grow were thin and brown and looked all dried out. In places the small dried plants gave way to vicious barbed bushes that had what looked like acorns growing on them. They were definitely no oak tree, but the acorns even tasted like the ones from the tree, but still without a way to treat them they were absolutely inedible.

The path seemed to skirt around the clumps of these oak bushes, probably because they were painful to touch, and wading through them would cause significant blood loss. It snake along near the edge for a while then turned and began to climb steeply up a sand and rock slope that was completely barren of vegetation. Tree quickly came to understand why there was a lack of vegetation on this slope. It was more rockslide than slope, and as he attempted to cross it there was a great deal of dust and noise.
Looking up and across this slope, Trell could see the reason for traversing it; it was the only way to get above the cliff above his. This cliff rose two hundred feet above him, but bottom of the slide tumbled of a cliff a hundred times that size. If he were to start a large slide while on this section, it could easily carry him over the edge to his death. If the man were going to ambush him, this would be the idea place.

Trell stepped back behind some oak bushes and listened for a long time. The only sound her heard was the wind in the bushes, some insects flying about, and some squirrels gathering the acorns. Still, he did not want to risk coming under fire from rocks or bows while on that slope. So he waited and worked up a plan.

He figured that his hoofs could move quicker on the slope, and displace less debris, than a human boot, and he could use that to his advantage. After the sun had set, and before the moon rose, he would make a dash up the slope, and if anyone was waiting to shoot or throw at him, they would only get one shot, and would hopefully be surprised by his speed. He knew he would have about an hour of darkness before the moon rose so he rested under some bushes and ate a meal waiting for the sun to set.

The sun sank slowly, and Trell watch the ledge above for any sounds or signs of movement. Darkness fell and no he saw and heard nothing. Then he saw the glow of the moon preparing to appear, and knew he must move now.

He, left his pack in the bushes, stretched his legs little, and got a running start at the slope. As he accelerated and approached the slope his adrenaline kicked in, and he drew his swords. Then he leapt onto the slope and began to bound along the other man had taken. To his surprise, he found this section was a little less slippery than the rest of the slope. So Trell bounded along at full speed up the slope. He did hit some softer spots and sent some rocks and dirt sliding down the mountain creating a lot of noise as it went, but moved rapidly across and up the slope.

Half way up the slope Trell hear some yelling above him, and a man appeared at the head of the path. He had one of those strange bows in his hands, and was pointing it at
Trell. In an instant arrow flew past him, missing by only inches. The man then disappeared from view.

With a few more bounds, Trell gained the top of the slope. A quick glance show the man that had fired the arrow at him was the same on that he had been tracking, but about two hundred yards away were four more men, each wearing a sword and carrying one of the strange bows. Trell knew his was in trouble. The man he had been tracking was already in the midst of the men yelling orders and pointing in Trell’s direction.

Trell quickly looked around for some cover, but saw none. He was completely exposed. At that moment he heard some movement on the trail behind him. Spinning, he saw a huge lizard about four feet high and over twenty feet in length on the trail behind him. Shock at the size of the creature froze him muscles in place, he couldn’t move. His arms went limp at his sides, but he did not drop his swords.

There was a simple word from somewhere near the great lizard, and it rocketed up the slope toward him. He tried to get out of its range, but it was too fast. It lashed out its long forked tongue, catching Trell around the ankles and dropped him to the ground. He was able to bring his arms up the guard his face as the lizard pounced on him. The weight of the lizard completely knocked the wind out of him, and for a moment he lost consciousness. When he came to himself again, it was standing on his chest with its jaws around Trell’s throat. Trell relaxed, closed his eyes, and waited for the end.

Trell thought that time had stopped. He felt the lizards short but sharp teeth pressing against his throat, and the weight of its body on his chest, but it was as if the universe was waiting for something before ending his life.

Then he felt both himself and the lizard raised into the air by some power strong beyond capability of men. The lizard released him and jumped aside, but Trell felt himself being absorbed into the stone on which he lay as if he were sinking onto a lake. The stone flowed around his arms and legs, and around his neck. He felt it surround his body and take hold of his horns. As it did so he was raised almost too a standing position, and suddenly the stone froze, encasing most of his body, and completely immobilizing him.

Trell’s eye popped open, and suddenly he understood. Though it was very dark, Trell could see the great lizard and a man whose skin was weathered and burned to a deep brown color. His hair was yellow blond, very long, and unkept. In his right hand was a long scimitar, and his left, raised to a fist, glowed a bright yellow brown color. This was one of the Sand Druids he had heard about.

The Sand Druids were not unlike the druids of the fey wood, but they lived and worked in the deserts. The were not known to be aggressive or cruel, but they never agreed with the forest druids on how to manage the plants and animals. They occasionally would engage the forest druids in magical duels when the quarrels escalated, but he had never heard of anyone being hurt in the disputes.

But what this druid was doing here, working with these evil men? Trell did not know what to think.

Then the druid spoke, his voice deep and measured, “I am Seren. What should I call you?”

“Trell.” came the reply as he tried to catch his breath.

“So, Trell, what brings you out in the harsh and cruel world?”

“Pariah Volontaire.” came the reply.

“Ahhhhh” said the druid ponderously. “So you would learn of the world outside your protected little fey puddle?”

Trell felt his face flush as anger coursed through his body at the insulting description of his home, but he could find no words to reply.

Seren laughed and spoke gently, “Relax. I am not going to hurt you.”

Suddenly the man Trell had been tracking stepped into view with a bow in his good hand. “Well then I will!” he growled.

Trell’s body impulsively flexed waiting to receive the arrow.

Before the man could raise the bow to fire, Seren spoke a single word, and the lizard swung its tail at the mans feet. Completely capsized, the man landed on his back with a thump, and knocking the wind from his body. The druid then spoke another word and the lizard casually crawled over and laid on the man placing its jaws around the man’s throat. The man gasped for breath, and remained still.

“Now, “ said the druid, “I hear you had a little scuffle with this man.” he pointed at the man being crushed by the lizard.
Trell would have shook his head in the affirmative, but found he could not move, so he summoned up his voice again, “Yes.”
“Tell me about it.” inquired Seren.

Trell described the encounter in the woods, his attempts to help the wounded man, his fall from the rocks, and his time tracking the man. Meanwhile, the druid hummed softly to himself, and Trell felt a strange compulsion to relate even the smallest details of story. When he finished Seren stopped humming, and Trell felt as if a strange weight had been lifted from his mind.

“That is about what I figured.” said Seren. “Old floppy hand here…” he nodding toward the man gasping for breath, “… tried to convince us that you were a demon that had appeared out the sky and attacked them in their camp, but when he mentioned that you were a fawn, rather than a Satyr, I figured there was more to the story.”

Seren stepped up to the big lizard and began to stroke its head and neck while he pondered for a minute. The lizard raised its head and whipped the air with its tongue.
“Well, here’s the thing” said Seren, “You are now on Lord Tramere’s lands, and I better let him decide what to do with you.” After a short pause Seren turned back to Trell, “…but don’t worry, Lord Tramere is a relatively fair man, and I suspect he will believe your story.”

“First though,” he said reaching toward Trell, “I should probably hold on to these for you.”

Trell felt his swords pulled from his hands.

Seren held them for a minute, and raised his eyebrows. “If I am not mistaken,” he began, “these blades actually belong to the great and glorious Chêne.” he said with some sarcasm, “How did you get them?”

Trell again felt the weight on his mind as Seren hummed and awaited his answer. Trell told of the parting feast, the ceremony of sending, and Chêne’s gifts and parting words.
Seren was clearly impressed, and reverently placed the swords in his belt. He then raised his left hand which began to glow a yellow brown color again. The rock subsided from Trell’s body leaving him standing before the druid.

The druid looked over at the great lizard and said, “Scar, come!” The lizard crawled off the man and approached Trell. “Go ahead and pet him. He especially likes to scratched on his belly.” With that the lizard flopped over on its back with its legs in the air, and Trell rubbed its belly.

Seren allowed Trell to go back down the slope to retrieve his staff and pack followed closely by scar. While he was gone he could hear a heated argument above him, but not clear enough to tell what was being said. When he got back up to Seren, the men were all settling back on their bedrolls except for the man with the floppy hand who was glaring at the fire and heating the tip of his sword in the coals.

Seren explained to Trell that they would be heading down to the Tramere castle as soon as it was light. He then added under his breath, “The humans don’t see so well in the dark. I wouldn’t want Lord Tramere thinking I intentionally threw some of his men off the mountain.”

Seren lead Trell over to a couple pine trees where the ground was softer, and he and Trell sat while Scar curled up around their feet.

Hesitantly, Trell asked, “So am a prisoner then?”

Seren replied with a shrug. “Depends on whether you plan on running away?” After a short pause he probed, “Well, do you?”

Trell glanced down at the lizard at their feet and shook his head no.

“Then, “ said Seren, “you are not a prisoner.”

They both collected the nearby pine needles, and sat with their backs to the two trees.

“Watch this.” said Seren in a sneaky sounding voice.

He grabbed four large pinecones and whispered a spell over them. Immediately they began to glow brightly. One was yellow, one blue, one green, and one red. He reached down and placed on on the tip of Scars nose, but the lizard didn’t move. He then distributed them along the lizards body. As Trell watched the lizard began to change colors. His head turned blue, his upper back turned yellow, his lower body green, and his tail turned red to match the color of the cone nearest them. The lizard looked like an absolute clown in the bright colors.

They both laughed, and then settled into light conversation about home, and family. Seren made his life sound terribly boring with long walks in the sand, and days spent tending a cactus or a sage bush. He was not as old as he appeared but still had ten years on Trell.

At one point Seren asked about the locket around Trell’s neck. At the thought of it Trell unconsciously reached up and touched light with his fingers. He told Seren about Nénuphar, and the little ceremony of the muse, and his hopes to see her again in a few years when he returned. As he talked, he found the lump returning to his throat, and his heart began to ache wishing he could see his beloved again. His voice trailed of to silence and as then both looked at he colorful lights on the great lizard.
It wasn’t long before the both laid down, and went to sleep. Trell and Seren both sat up as Scar walked away, and the pine cones, no longer glowing rolled off his back. His skin quickly changed back to the light red color of the dirt as he slipped out the camp.

“He’s just going to grab some breakfast.” Seren told Trell who was staring blankly at the bushed where the lizard and disappeared.

Only half awake, Trell only managed a “humpf.”

Seren stood and and began walking toward the camp of the men who were stretching and rolling up bedrolls. “Come on.” urged Seren. “The men will be cooking some eggs and bacon. You’ll like it.”

Trell quickly caught up to the druid, and they both walked over to watch the two men who were busy over the fire. There were strips of meat and some eggs popping away in two pans. After they had cook a bit, and the eggs had turned white, the largest of the men grabbed both skillets and offered them to Seren and Trell. They both raised their eyebrows as the skillets popped and spit in front of them. The man seemed a little confused until the other man by the fire spoke up disdainfully.

“You don’t just expect them to just grab the hot skillets do you idiot?” he spat.

“Oh! I am so sorry” he stammered, “I am such an idiot.” He quickly retrieved a couple of carved wooden plates from a pack and dumped the contents of the skillets into them. Returning the skillets to the grumpy man, he then retrieve some metal utensils. Trell and Seren accepted the plates and utensils thanking the man, and returned to their vantage point under the pines.

By the time Trell and Seren had eaten their fill Scar had returned, and as he crawled into the sun his back changed from a dark gray to the familiar light red. Seren showed Trell how to wash the grease off the plates with some sand, and they returned to them to their cook.

“Gabe” said the man. “My name is Gabe.” He extended his hand to Trell.

“Trell” said the young Faun.

“Trail?” asked the man, “You mean like a walking path? trail?”

This time the reply was slower and very clear, “Treeeeeell.”

“Oh, yikes! sorry about that. Trell then.” said the man. His face flushed as he took the dishes and dusted them off with a large think rag he was holding.
As the men finished packing up camp Trell watched them closely. The man that had attacked Trell was named Auth, and he seems to just live his life angry. Maybe it was because of his hand, and maybe it was just that he hated everyone and everything. The cook, Gabe, that had given them breakfast was the biggest of the bunch, but but constantly being belittled and pick on by the other men. He also seemed to be the youngest of them because they kept calling him kid. The other three men, Jask, Blane, and Furthen were pretty rough and crude men, but didn’t seem to have any particular hatred toward Trell, although, all the men seemed to shy away from Auth who kept barking orders where none were needed.

As they started walking Jask, Blane, and Furthen all seemed to anxious to go, and start off without and ceremony. Auth loaded his bow, and announced that we would follow behind in case the prisoner decided to try anything, although Scar was actually the last one in line, and made Auth constantly watching over his shoulder. Seren followed the tree men, and Gabe fell in with Trell behind Seren.

As soon as the group was on the move Gabe asked Trell if he could look at one of his swords. Trell shrugged, and pointed to Seren a few paces ahead. Two quick strides and Gabe mumbled a please into Seren’s ear. The druid pulled one the short blades out and handed it to he.

Gabe came back to walk by Trell as he looked at the sword with interest. “What kind of sword is this?” he asked turning the blade over and over in his large hands.

“Its a Dervish Short Blade”, said Trell.

“A what short blade?” Gabe returned.

“Dervish.” said Trell again.

“What is a Dervish?” Gabe inquired.

“Its…” Tell struggle to find a description, “well its me.” He stuttered. “I mean the Dervish are some of the protectors of the fey wood, and those are the swords we use.”
Gabe brow furrowed, but he walked in silence for a couple steps before beginning again. “Why are the curved, and why are they so small?… and wow these beautiful, but the ring is to small for me, here show me how it fits your hand.”

Immediately Auth leapt between then yelling some derogatory curse word and the Gabe. Holding his bow right in Trell’s face he hissed, “If he so much as touches that blade,

I’ll kill him where he stands.”

He then let out a rather comical squeak as a large lizards tongue slithered up his pant leg. He pointed the arrow at the lizard, and continue his stream of vulgarity and threats at his new found enemy. Gabe and Trell almost laughed as they walked away.

When they had cleared the smirks off their face Trell offered, “Perhaps I can show you another time.”

“Oh, sure. …but how do you use a curved sword? It seems so light.” Gabe continued.

“Well, it is just a different way of fighting” began Trell. “For example, if you take your sword…”

“Okay.” broke in Gabe tucking the little sword under his arm and drawing his massive greatsword.

“Trell took a step back and continued, “Right, so that sword is a good weapon if you want to pulverize your enemy.”

“Exactly!” said Gabe raising the sword in both hands and removing the top half of a young pine tree.

As he swung, the little sword fell from under Gabe’s arm and clattered to the ground causing Seren to turn around. Gabe made a desperate effort to grab the sword before it hit the ground, but only managed to throw his own into some bushes and fall to his knees landing right on the little sword in the process.

He leapt back as if a snake had bitten him, and began to fall all over himself apologizing to Trell. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I am sooooo sorry.” He took a deep breath to gain control of his tongue, and reached out one hand as if to have it slapped, “I am sooooo sorry.” He dropped his eyes and his chin as if in defeat.

Seren stepped up lightly and picked up the sword. “Maybe I should hang on to this for now.” he said sliding it back in his belt with the other. At this point the other three men came running back with their bows trained on Trell.

“Whats going on!?”, one of them demanded, looking from one face to another.

Seren gently pressed the bow down until it pointed at the ground. “It’s okay, Gabe was just showing Trell his new dance.”

Auth scoffed and spit on the ground before leaping off the path to get the forked tongue out of his pant leg again. The three men from the front broke into laughter, to see Auth so skittish.

Auth immediately leaped at the men brandishing his bow in the face of one of them. “Get moving, or we’ll see how funny this arrow looks sticking out of your face.”

The three men sobered up quickly and began moving on down the path.

Auth then turned to Gabe and began a steady stream of orders, “Go get your sword, you blundering fool! And get moving! And shut up! I’ve had enough of your tongue. If I hear your putrid squeaky voice one more time before we reach the keep, I’ll cut it out of your head.”

By this time Gabe, Trell, and Seren were moving again, and Auth fell to muttering and cursing to himself.

At midday, the company came to the edge of a vast canyon that ran east to west blocking their progress. It was only a couple miles wide, but seemed to be deeper than it was wide. The walls on both sides were sheer sandstone. To their left, the cliffs quickly descended to the plain. To the right, on the south side of the ravine where they stood, the mountains climbed into a great peak that was tipped with snow. The north side was not nearly as high and ended abruptly giving way to the east sand desert. At the bottom of the canyon was a tiny river, still shaded for much of its passage through the gorge.

Gabe stepped up next to Trell and pointed to the far side of the canyon down by the river. Trell could see what appeared to be a small spring that darkened the wall of the canyon around an outcropping of rock. As he studied the formation he realized that there was something unnatural about it. There seemed to be rows of bushes growing along a small stream that ran across, but the bushes and trees were arranged in very organized rows, squares, and circles.

After a minute Trell asked, “What is that?”

Gabe whispered his response with sideways glance to make sure Auth was distracted. “That is Tramere Keep. That is where we are going.”

Trell looked again, and could see a small road fording the river, and running up to the stone walls. He thought he could even see a gate cut into the walls. On the near side of the river the small road ran along the edge of the river in both directions, but he could see no way for them to descend to it without flying.

The company halted at this vantage point for a rest and a meal. Auth sat by himself, glaring at the world around him as he struggled to keep his bow close and still use his good hand to eat. Trell only stole a few quick glance in Auth’s direction, but he felt bad for him, wishing his magic were powerful enough repair the damage he had done to the man’s arm.

Shortly the company shouldered their packs and began marching down a steep trail. Trell noticed that Seren whispered something to Gabe, and before walking over to the edge. Pointing down he said, “Scar, down!”

Immediately the lizard went over the cliff. Trell dashed to the edge and looked over. The huge lizard was running down the face of the cliff as comfortably and he did across level ground. Then Seren threw himself off the cliff. As he fell Trell saw his body change to that of a great eagle. Not as large as the one that had flow into the clearing the night of his send-off party, but a very large one none the less with golden feathers that glistened in the sun.

Auth spit of the cliff, and muttered, “Good riddance.” He then began barking orders to get them all moving. Trell was soon fourth in line with Gabe right behind him. Auth, in much better sprits began recounting all the horrible things that Lord Tramere was going to do Trell, and wishing all kinds of unfortunate things on the druid.

As they marched Trell watch Seren soar down to the keep and disappear. He couldn’t see where Scar had gone, but figured he was probably down there as well.

The narrow path wound its way around the tall peak toward the east at a steady downward slope. At times it was dug out of sloping grasslands, and at times chiseled right out of the canyon wall. It continued several miles east a well beyond the keep before the path reached the lower slopes that were covered in grass and broad leaf trees like the ones that Trell was familiar with. At this point the trail zig zagged back and forth down the slope to the river slowly working its way west into the canyon.

When they reached the river, they all filled the water skins and took a few minutes to eat. They were all tired from the long march, but Auth soon ordered them to move on. After a mile or so, Trell should see the spring coming out of the cliff about two hundred feet up the face of the cliff. It darkened the face of the cliff below it in a swath about a hundred and fifty feet across. Under the spring the cliff wall slopped back creating a broad shallow overhang. The base of the overhang was obscured by a ledge about a hundred feet above the river that Trell guessed was the keep.

It did not take long for them to reach the ford below the outcropping, and Trell could see a broad ramp had been cut into the outcropping to allow easy access to the ledge. At the base of the ramp was a wooden wall with a section that was on hinges and could be opened and closed. The outcropping itself was about a quarter mile across and about as deep. As far as Trell could see the ledge was unbroken, and the only access to the ledge was via the ramp.

Crossing the ford was very easy, the river ran at a steady swift pace, but was only about two feet deep. The ford seemed to be well maintained, at a spot where the river was broad and ran across broad rock area. Trell could see a large pile of rocks to one side on the far side of the river that seemed to be where the rocks were piled if they ventured into the ford.

They approached the gate and declared they had a prisoner to deliver to Lord Tramere. The gate opened, and the two guards stared curiously at Trell passed. A third man was sent running ahead, and quickly disappeared from view beyond the ramp.

The ramp extended well into the rock ledge before reaching the level of the greenery Trell has seem from above. As Trell looked around the ledge he could see that the green shapes he had seen from above were areas sectioned off for various reasons: Some seemed to be gardens, one was a large stable, one row was a number of tents that seemed to be a barracks, and various other buildings that he could not identify. The road they were on continued the center of the ledge where a large round area was cleared and ringed with trees. Six roads came into the circle like the spokes of a wheel. The one they were on and its complementary road opposite were large than the others and lead to doors of a large two story wooden building.

As they moved across the circle, Trell could see the doors of the large building open and several men came walking toward them. At the center of the circle Auth ordered them all to halt and told the other men to guard the prisoner. They formed a square around Trell, and took his staff from him, but none of them made any effort to draw any weapons. Auth scoffed, and set off to meet the approaching men.

There was brief exchange as Auth met them, but he was quickly ushered to the back of the group where his shoulders drooped into a pouting lazy stance. Seren and another tall thin dark-haired man lead the group. When they reached the group at the center of the circle the thin man gestured for the guards to move out of the way.
“So you are the devil that caused so much trouble for my southern watchmen?” said the thin man in a lighthearted tone. “I am Lord Jeremy Tramere. This is my home.” He moved his hand in a broad gesture indicating the ledge around them.

Seren drew out Trell’s swords and gestured for Gabe to bring him the staff. “These are his weapons.” he said offering them to Lord Tramere.
He accepted them and looked at them briefly before handing them back to Seren. “Come and eat with me so I can decide if you are friend or foe.” he said, turning back to the large building.

Trell took up a nervous pace, walking between Seren and Lord Tramere. As they began the walk back to the building, Lord Tramere made a dismissive gesture to Auth, “You and your men are free to go.”

The color drained from Auth’s face as he was dismissed and he began to stalk back to the other men.

“Wait, just a sec.” interjected Seren.

He took Auth’s limp arm is his hands and said a few words that Trell recognized as a spell. He saw the familiar white blue light pass from Seren’s hands into Auth’s arm, but the blue was quickly overpowered and the light grew brighter than Trell had ever seen. When the light passed, Auth began to flex his hand and work his wrist to make sure it was working properly. He bowed slightly to Seren and turned back to his men. His shoulders and step suggested he was in a much better mood, but he still barked out orders to his men like they were animals who had offended him in some way.

Lord Tramere thanked Seren, and they continued into the building. Once inside they moved into a room to the left where meal was being set at a large table. A round woman directed two younger men as they rushed in and out of the room setting the table and bringing in food. She then bowed to Lord Tramere and left the room.

Lord Tramere took a seat at the head of the table and encouraged the rest of the men to select a seat as well. He turned to Trell and offered him the seat at his left hand, and Seren took the one opposite. The other men found themselves seats and began dishing themselves food. Trell was hesitant at first, but Lord Tramere pushed food at him,
and he quickly came to appreciate the quality and variety of the foods in the meal.

The lady come in occasionally replacing a dish that was empty or just adding more to the table. The men at the far end conversed quietly about various administrative details, occasionally asking Lord Tramere for input, which he gave matter-of-factly and without any fanfare.

After a few minutes Lord Tramere looked hard at Trell and asked, “So, tell me how you got tangled up with my men.”

Trell repeated the encounters, leaving out many of the minor details that seemed unnecessary. He occasionally glanced over a Seren, who casually listened as he ate, but never interjected. When Trell had finished his tale, Lord Tramere sighed loudly and declared, “Well it is too bad such misunderstandings have to happen between good men.”

Trell did not believe that it was a misunderstanding, but chose not to correct him just now.

“That man you killed was my best scout. I could always count on him to let me know if any bandits were in the area.” He sighed again as if distressed by the loss, but he clearly was not, and Trell was confused by the obvious hypocrisy of his little speech. Again he chose not to correct him.

“You know,” Lord Tramere began again, “I could use a quick blade like yours. The frontier out here is always chasing away rogue creatures.”

“In fact,” he said as if a new thought had come to him, “Why don’t YOU join us. The pay is good, and you can leave anytime you like. It would be great experience for young adventurer such as yourself. What do you say, Partners?” He stood and held out is hand as if to shake.

Trell began to raise his hand but realized that he did not want to shake Lord Tramere’s hand. It just seemed like the thing to do, but he had to strain to put his hand back on his lap. Still he had to give him some answer and his hovering hand was beginning to be awkward.

“Thank you for your offer,” began Trell, “but I am not sure I am ready to settle down just yet.”

Lord Tramere made a great gesture with his outstretched hand, and burst out laughing, “Of course you are not!” he began, “I had itchy feet when I was a bit younger as well.” His tone then changed to a very strong one, and his eyes locked with Trell’s. “But maybe I could persuade you to carry a letter to my sister for me.” he said without breaking eye contact with Trell. “Surely you wouldn’t mind, and its on your way. What do you say, a silver for a letter delivery?”

Trell readily accepted and shook hands without hearing a word of what Lord Tramere had said. When Lord Tramere released him from his stare, Trell fell back into his seat as if he was dizzy.

Lord Tramere, on the other hand, lit up like a candle, addressing the rest of the guests, “Excellent, Jerril, perhaps you could find a bunk with the other soldiers, for our newest recruit.” One of the men at the other end of the table bowed and exited the room.

Lord Tramere then walked over to the window and pulled back the light curtains with a great sweep of his hand. “Perhaps, my young soldier, I could give you a tour of the city before you head off to sleep?”

Trell had finally gotten hold of himself again, and consented with a nod.

“Wonderful” said Lord Tramere. “Lets be off.”

Lord Tramere put his hand on Trell’s shoulder as they walked, pointing out the various buildings and gardens; telling him about his plans for a grand balance and where he wanted to expand the ledge, and build ramparts. Occasionally he ask Trell to do little chores for him, and found it easier and easier to just follow the directions. Eventually he didn’t even hesitate.

Eventually they walked down the road with barracks tents and ran into the man that had gone to find Trell a bunk. Lord Tramere handed Trell of to the man and beg his leave to go handle some administrative stuff back at the big house, as he called it. As Lord Tramere walked away, Trell felt that same sensation like he had just awoken from a deep dream, but before he could clear his head the man in front of him spoke.

The man introduced himself as Commander Gray, and pointed out one of the tents. “You’ll be staying in here.” he said pointing to the nearest tent. He pulled back the flaps that acted as doors, and walked him to the back of the tent.

Each tent seemed to stacked beds on each wall running the length of the tent. Trell counted four bunks before they came to one that didn’t have a man in it. “Here you are.” announced the Commander. “You and the rest of these gents will all be heading off on communication rides in the morning, so sleep well. The trumpet will sound at daybreak for breakfast. These men will show you where that is.” Commander Gray then turned and strode out of the tent.

Trell sat on the lower bunk on his right, and found his pack already stowed under his bed. He was not sure what he was expected to do so he took a few minutes to look through his pack. He found that it had been opened, but very little had been touched as everything was covered in starchy mashed potatoes. Even his small back and the two belt pouches at the bottom had remained untouched.

He didn’t want to get the small pouches out while in the middle of all these men, most of whom were not so subtly staring at him, but he was started when a deep voice spoke his name. His head jerked up and there stood Seren holding his swords out to him.

“I guess you are a member of the team now. You’ll probably want these back.” said the druid as a chuckle broke though in his words.

Trell had completely forgotten Seren. Had been with them since the dinner, or had he just reappeared just now. He head was so fuzzy, he had a hard time remembering anything since he got to the city.

As the druid spoke his name the man in the lower bed opposite Trell flipped over to face him with a smile. It was Gabe. “Hey Trell, was was dinner at the big house?”

Still sorting through his memories Trell answered hesitantly, “Okay, I guess.”

“OKAY!” came the reply. “That house has the best food east of the Keltorin mountains.” You should be excited to have dined there. “Down here in the barracks the food is not nearly so fine. Now I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining” he quickly interjected, “but it is kind of bland. I wish I had my mother’s spices; I could make some some amazing stuff out of potatoes and a little swine. Oh, but don’t let me talk your ears off,” he slowed a bit as cocked his head to look at the sides of Trell’s head. He then quickly caught back up, “I have a tendency to do that. So sorry… anyway, how are you?” He raised his eyebrows and smiled in genuine interest.

Trell still a bit groggy replied hesitantly, “I guess I joined the…”

“…garrison” put in Gabe, trying to be helpful.

“Yes… the garrison.” finished Trell.

He looked up as if to speak, but found Seren gone, so he just took a deep breath and began to close up his pack.

“I am sorry to tell you this, but tomorrow, I’ll be taking off for a while.” said Gabe. “But when I get back maybe you could come work with me in the armory.”

Trell was able to follow most of what Gabe was saying, but as his mind cleared a deep exhaustion settled on him and he found it difficult to stay awake. Meanwhile Gabe was was excitedly prattling on.

“We make swords, and spears, and axes, and… well… we make a lot of horseshoes too, but after hours Lord Tramere lets me play with all the stuff in the armory. I get to dress up in armor and swing around all the different pole weapons. Sometimes I even practice throwing stuff, but… “ he paused just long enough to glance around and blush, “well… I’m not so good at that.”

About that time Trell laid his head on the thick bundle that acted as a pillow, and barely got out a good night before falling asleep.