Part Two

There was a light in the distance ......a pale, thin, pinprick of light that beckoned the sleeper forward. Lost in the curious flicker, an ethereal moth to flame, the wraith followed in a shrouded haze of addled senses. The light grew stronger, bolder, as the sleeper drifted helplessly towards it, spiraling slowly upwards to whatever lay beyond. So strange was the light, and so intoxicating its promise that it was only later that the sleeper heard the sound. It too started small, but unlike its companion, it was uncontent to grow slowly, but rather surged with violent force. Soon, it was a glaring, jarring cacophony that tore through the wraith as jagged shards of glass through layers of thin-wrapped gauze. Metal beat and grate against metal and screams of pain and panic echoed unaided in hollow despair. The sleeper reeled, but was unable to stop its ascent, no longer in control of its movements.

The spiral continued, faster and more urgent, and a new sound joined the first as the beckoning light grew ever brighter. This one did not begin as whisper, but attacked the sleeper at a rush, driving into it and nearly throwing it back with tangible raw power. Roaring, crashing, it launched a terrible attack against the wraith, testifying to forces best left undiscovered by man. The other sounds rose to meet it, becoming a pandemoniac conflux of deafening might. Somewhere ........ somewhere within its death-clouded tangle of memories the sleeper recognized the sounds, but was unable to grasp hold of them. Neither name nor image would come to the wraith. There was only the sickening sense of knowledge that refused to be tamed; and still the wraith was pulled onward .... upward.

The light and sound soon swelled to an uncontrolled frenzy, a bacchanal rite that knew no end, and they plagued the sleeper, striking it, pulling it, unraveling it, rending thought from thought and discarding wisps of its intangibility upon the cold-stone floor of nothingness. Alone and unprotected, the wraith ached to close them out, to silence and still them, but it had neither hands nor flesh with which to shield its naked senses, and the unyielding assault continued.

Torrent upon torrent followed until the sleeper could take no more, turning inward upon itself beneath the crushing force of sight and sound. It was then, when the sleeper began to slip, that an unearthly voice, a forbidden voice resounded in what tattered threads remained of the wraith's mind. It screamed, slamming into both the light and the sound, hurling them back and away like motes of dust swept clean with a single hand. There was a brief echo as they left, pale ripples and shadows of their former strength fading helplessly into the endless night.

All was quiet ..... quiet and dark.

And then, the wraith saw the light.

Wraithshade

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague.
Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"

Edgar Allan Poe
"The Premature Burial" (1850)

The land was beautiful in its starkness and held little hope for those brave enough to venture forth. Few even knew its name and those that did spoke of it only in a whisper—Sarenalon. Sawtooth mountains split the land in two, stopping only as it approached the great sea. Jagged peaks towered into the deep blue azure sky and stood guard against any who would challenge its supremacy. Deep within the mountain range was a valley green and bountiful, safe and secure and hidden from all eyes. The Elven city of Sarenalon shown like gold in the afternoon sun and sat like far flung jewels on the face of the mountainside.

As if looking for answers, light grey eyes studied the sky thoughtfully. It was only as she turned to greet her longtime friend that she allowed a smile to cross her face. She had ruled Sarenalon for many decades now not by choice, but by birth, and for as long as she could remember, Sa'lin Kintinith had stood by her side as friend and comrade. Though she was his Queen, she had always sought his counsel on matters of import.

Sa'lin bowed his head in deference to his Queen. His voice, low and musical, filled the small chamber. "Is the trunk ready, my Queen?" Walking to her desk, she deftly folded a parchment and tied it with a colorful bow. "Now it is, Sa'lin." She moved to an elegantly carved wooden trunk and placed the scroll to one side. He studied its contents and shook his head, his face mirrored his disapproval as he picked up a small spell book and glanced through the pages. "Will she even be able to use this? As I understand it, she is not well schooled in the ways of a mage." A knowing smile filled the Queen's face. "If I know Gyndeene, she will find a way."

Taking the book from his slender fingers, she tucked it inside and closed the top. Pausing only a moment, she waved her hand over the piece of polished wood. Reshaping itself, the trunk became but a mere box held easily in one's hand. She waved her fingers once again and the box rose and levitated in front of her friend. "Please see that this is put on our fastest ship and that it gets to Stormpoint in haste. The time has come for soon the quest will begin in earnest."

A bit sadly, Sa'lin took the box as he gazed at his Queen. "As you desire, but are you sure this is the path you wish to take?" The Queen's eyes were serene. "It is, Sa'lin, for we can no longer stem the tide. This is the only path left. And for our sake, let us pray that this woman with the courage of a human and the heart of an elf can turn back the tide." He nodded in acquiescence and withdrew from the room.

Mother Laumari
Queen of Sarenalon

It was high past noon when Josh finally roused himself from bed. Glancing out his small window, he sighed, hoping that Gynne had managed to get her coffee without him this morning. Dashing some water on his face, he quickly pulled on his breeches and boots. He knew that Gynne would be long gone by now and he shook his head. He had hoped to talk to her more about her plans for supplies and extra horses they would need on their journey.

Josh slipped his tunic over his head and let his mind wander back to last night. He scolded himself for being so suspicious of Gynne's friends. After all, by now, he should be used to these things happening to his Mistress. It was not the first time strange things had come about and probably would not be the last. He slicked down his unruly hair and pulled his cap down low. If nothing else, he would visit the stables to make sure their horses were being well cared for. Also, he was sure the stableman could point him in the direction of a good horse trader where he might be able to pick up a couple of pack animals.

Ducking into the great room of the inn, he charmed one of the serving women into getting him a couple of hard rolls and a mug of milk. Sated and fully awake, he sauntered out of the Inn and down to the stables. A soft nicker greeted him and he smiled as he entered the enclosure of his small mountain horse, Chia. "How ye bin, Chia?" Laughing at the horse's respond, he checked his horse over closely and was satisfied that she was being well cared for. "Take it easy while ye kin, Chia, for soon we'll be on the trail once more.

He quickly moved to the next stall and smiled at Beowulf. "Hey, old man, how ye doing." The big black horse gave him a chiding look that seemed to ask where his mistress was. Chuckling, he patted the horse consoling. "She'll be around soon. It seems that ye be doin well." Should the horse have been a cat, he would have been purring loudly as Josh scratched him around his ears. Satisfied that all was well, Josh sought out the stable hand who directed him to the Gypsy Camp indicating that they from time to time sold a few horses at a decent price. Josh murmured his thanks and took off in the general direction the man had pointed.

Josh came upon the camp and was surprised at how large it was. A huge pot sat off to one side over a bed of hot coals and his mouth watered at the aromas that wafted in the air. His head spun as his gaze took in the colorful wagons and tents, and he watched with interest the comings and goings of the people within. Several small children played a game with a tether ball, kicking it to and fro. A man sat on a log strumming a soft tune on a mandolin and another looked with interest over the shoulder of a woman who was placing cards on a table. Probably a fortune teller, Josh told himself. Not much for fortunes, he scanned the camp looking for the string of horses the stable man had told him about.

The sun was already low in the sky and Josh shook his head. Perhaps he should return in the morning as it seemed to him they were preparing for dinner. Having had little luck in locating the horses from where he stood, he shrugged a slender shoulder and turned to leave.

Josh

Leena ran towards the children, much to their delight, her arms outstretched as if she was going to catch them all.

"Run! Here comes Leena!"

"You're not going to catch me!"

The children spun and dashed around her in fits of giggles and screeches that were normal for the camp. Gypsies, by nature, were carefree, but they all held secrets of a past and those with Gifts like Leena's were often plagued by more then dark thoughts and feelings. Leena's arms curled around the young Josefina, scooping her off the ground in a series of twirling circles. The other children ran around the elder gypsy, begging for their chance to be spun around.

Leena tumbled to the ground amidst the small flailing limbs and series of fingers that poked at her in attempt to tickle her skin. She grinned, rising to brush off her skirt and arms. The gypsy glanced towards the horizon, noting the cooking pot was well underway… and there was a stranger standing in the field.

"Go wash up for dinner. It is getting late."

She was greeted by a series of groans, but with a little prodding the children scampered off to find their respective parents. Leena paused for a moment, watching the young man. She knew he traveled with a woman companion as she had seen them about together. Where she was now, Leena did not know. She glanced towards the direction of the tents before eyeing the man once more. Something was unsettled within this one, and holding her breath, she noted the aura of danger slithering around him, lurking where he could not see.

Leena shook her head, clearing her eyes and sighing. She slipped through the camp, winding her way past the tents, around the backside of the caravan, and out towards the lad that waited for someone to help him. The melodic tone of the chimes around her ankle signaled her approach only to lie silent as she paused before him. Thick lashes rose as she set burnished golden hues upon the young man, her voice faint and soft.

"Buenos dias, senor." She offered a small bow. Leena knew someone from the camp would be along shortly to see to his needs. "You come looking for something, and by coming here means you have unanswered questions about the past or future or you have heard of our horses." Leena smiled. "I dare say it is not the first." That much was easy for the gypsy dancer to discern by the simple way Josh approached the camp and stood watching with a determination that belied any uneasiness he felt.

Nimble fingers reached out to gently curl around Josh's hand, pulling it towards her vision as she flipped it over and ran her fingers across his palm. "So it must be, senor, there are dark things lurking ahead. Be wary of those that come to surround you and your senorita. That path untaken is best left hidden except for those strong in heart and seeking truth." Leena spared a glance over her shoulder as the rest of the camp slowly milled about to prepare for the supper hour. "Through this perilous journey, keep the sea at your right hand and the winds of the sky, however concealed they may be, at your left, and you will be all the more prepared." Leena shifted to stand tall again, turning her eyes towards his. "The way is dark but the path shall be revealed in time. A journey prepared for is to journey wisely."

Leena noted that another of the camp members was approaching, no doubt to barter in the supplies the young man was here for. She slipped a single delicate chain into his palm and curled his fingers around the tiny bells that adorned it. "Expect the unexpected, and all shall fare well in the end." Releasing his hand, Leena's lips curved into a thoughtful smile. She dropped her head in another small bow before slipping off towards the camp for dinner. "Fair winds and blue skies, my friend. You will find all you need within our camp."

Leena

As he turned to leave, Josh's attention was caught by a young woman who had joined in the fun of the children. He watched her antics and smiled as she tumbled to the ground. How lighthearted they all seemed. A pang of regret touched his heart and though he did not often think of it, he realized how much he had missed in his childhood. His thoughts were broken by the sound of soft chimes.

Josh's eyes widen as he watched the lithe gypsy woman approach him. Her dusky skin seemed to glow with life. Black hair tumbled about her shoulders and her colorful garments created an apt background for her exotic beauty. Josh could feel the warmth in his cheeks as her golden eyes caught and held his. He stared back with frank admiration.

The woman greeted him in a foreign tongue as she offered a small bow. Her words switched to the common language and Josh wondered at her words. What did she mean about unanswered questions and the past and the future? Perhaps she was a fortune teller and a slight frown creased his brow. Had she approached him for this purpose and could she draw back the veil that Darkelden wore? Could this gypsy give him a glimpse of the wizard? Sighing, he knew he was being foolish.

Trying to gather his wits about him, he was startled as she took his hand in hers. His lips opened to protest but instead clamped shut as she ran her slender fingers over his palm. He found himself leaning towards her not wishing to miss the soft words that fell from her lips. Well, it certainly was no secret that dark things lie ahead and had he not been suspicious of Gynne's friends, but what did she mean that the path untaken would stay hidden except for those who were strong at heart. He mulled these words over in his mind as she continued. "Keep the sea at your right hand and the winds of the sky at your left." What did she mean? Perhaps Gynne would know or perhaps these words would mean something to Captain Silver.

The gypsy's eyes once again caught and held his. "The way is dark, but the path shall be revealed in time. A journey prepared for is to journey wisely." Josh could not have agreed more, but he wondered indeed if they would find this so-called path and whether or not the truth would ever be known. Surprised as she placed a small chain in his hand, her words burned in his brain…"Expect the unexpected…" Well, as far as he was concerned, they had no choice for they had no idea what to expect. He returned her smile as she released his hand and her last words played through his mind. "Fair winds and blue skies . . ." He chuckled for it was what most sailors wished for, fair winds and blue skies. " Before he could express his thanks or pay the woman for her words, she slipped away.

Disappointed that he had failed to utter a word, he watched her disappear into the camp.

Josh

Despite the apparent indifference of the camp's residents, the appearance of the stranger did not go unnoticed. A young boy of about thirteen had been busily grooming the horses loosely hobbled near the main fire pit all afternoon. Enjoying the warm sun on his back, Larén inhaled the sweet scent of the fresh cut hay strewn on the ground at his feet. The young bay colt he had been currying was eager to return to his dam's side. Brushing a lock of dark brown hair out of his eyes, Larén glanced up to check the position of the sun when he too spotted the newcomer. Guessing the visitor to be about his age, Larén untied the loose tether holding the colt to a post and approached the visitor still holding the curry comb in his left hand. "Hola, me llamo Larén. Bienvenidos a Las Campas." He held out his right hand in what his father taught him was the customary greeting of the city folk. "¿Qué necesitas? What can we do for you today?"

~Larén Garcia de Las Campas~

Josh stood a moment, feeling the chain warm in his hand and he slipped it in his pocket for later inspection. He turned again to leave, but stopped short as he watched a lad about his age approach. Noting the curry comb he held in one hand, Josh smiled widely. Perhaps after all his trip to the Gypsy Camp had not been in vain. As the gypsy spoke, he extended his hand. Grasping the outstretched hand, Josh replied.

"Good day, sir. I'm Josh Revlin and I've have been told that ye may 'ave horses for sale. My mistress is soon to embark on a journey and we've need of horses for carrying supplies and possibly a couple of mounts for her friends. The hostler at the stable told me ye have good stock. T'would be great if'n ye could help me."

He stepped back, a grin on his face as he waited for a reply, trying to contain his excitement. In his earlier years he had not had much chance to be around horses, but during his time with Gynne, she had taught him much and he had come to appreciate good horseflesh.

Josh

Larén gripped Josh's hand and returned the greeting warmly. "Buenos tardes, Josh. Sí, we have horses for sale. Un caballero just came yesterday to see about selling some horses in the city. Walk with me this way." Larén turned and started back toward the center of the camp where most of the horses were still hobbled. Seeing by the long shadow to his side that Josh followed, he continued to walk ahead. "Estos," Larén said while pointing to a small knot of three cream-colored Arabians and four grayish Appaloosas, "are for sale, pero you will have to talk with El Caballero for the prices." He walked a bit further and pointed out two chestnut mares and one painted stallion. "Estos también are for sale." Larén turned to Josh and smiled. "Tenemos burros...mules if you need pack animals as well. Would you like me to get El Caballero for you to bargain your choices?"

~Larén Garcia de Las Campas~

Josh followed the young gypsy through the camp and followed the direction of the young man's hand as he pointed to three Arabians.  They were fine animals with their arched necks and wide set brown eyes.  Obviously, they would make very fine mounts and were known for their stamina and courage.  Josh walked over to one and smiled as the horse turned to nuzzle him.  "Ye have vera fine stock here."  He turned to study the appaloosas and the chestnut mares the Gypsy indicated were for sale.  Then, his eyes fell on one of the most beautiful horses he had ever seen.

He moved quickly to study the painted stallion.  A gasp left his lips and he chucked, "This is indeed a beautiful horse; never have I seen the like."  The black markings stood out starkly against the silvery whiteness of his coat.  His mane and tail were thick and full and feathers rose from his hooves to his knees.  Josh smiled.  "T'is an extremely fine animal ye have here.  Gynne would be most impressed.  A bit on the short side for her, but about right fer me."  He laughed as the animal appeared to be studying him as well.  Moving closer, he ran his hand over the animal's study back and down a leg, feeling the strength underneath the silky skin.

Reluctant to move on, he walked over to where two mules were hobbled and nodded.  They had good conformation and he knew they would do well on the trail.  Smiling, he looked at the gypsy and nodded.  "'Tis a vera impressive string ye have here."  He struggled a moment with the gypsy's name and wondered if El Cabellero was the name of the horse trader.  "Aye, Laren, I'd like ta talk ta El Cabellero.  I'm vera interested in purchasing a few of ye fine animals." 

Josh

Larén could not help beaming a radiant smile as Josh admired his beautiful charges.

"Ye have vera fine stock here."

The young gypsy nodded enthusiastically.  "Sí, they are caballos muy bonitos."  Larén felt a chuckle escape his lips as the visitor caught sight of the painted stallion.  

"This is indeed a beautiful horse; never have I seen the like."  The gypsy nodded in agreement with Josh's appreciation of the gorgeous creature.  "'Tis an extremely fine animal ye have here.  Gynne would be most impressed.  A bit on the short side for her, but about right fer me."  

Larén gave a short bow of respect.  "Muchas gracias, Josh.  El Caballero would be most pleased to hear your praises."  He watched Josh from a respectful distance while the youth expertly inspected the horses on offer.  Larén followed the young townsman's gaze to the mules and knew he would be taking them for certain.  However, the rest would be up to his negotiating skills with El Caballero.  

"'Tis a vera impressive string ye have here."  Again, the young gypsy nodded with enthusiasm.  "Aye, Laren, I'd like ta talk ta El Cabellero.  I'm vera interested in purchasing a few of ye fine animals."  

Larén set down the curry comb on the stool he had been using earlier.  "Bueno.  I will get him for you.  Por favor, wait here un momento.  El Caballero is just alla...over there."  Larén gave a sheepish grin at his translation.  In his excitement, he often slipped back to his native tongue and forgot most outside the camp didn't share it.  "I will get him for you.  Please make your selections, and be prepared to negotiate."  Larén gave Josh a quick wink as he turned to the nearest tent about thirty yards from the horses.  I hope young Josh keeps one eye on the horses and one eye on his coins, Larén smiled to himself as he went in search of El Caballero.  Not that anyone in the camp would cheat him, but El Caballero was a wily negotiator.  If El Joven Josh is not careful, he could see his entire purse spent.

Larén entered the tent and reemerged a few moments later followed by a tall man appearing in his mid-thirties.  He was resplendent in an orange silk shirt, a brightly colored tapestry vest woven of complimentary colors, and fine black linen pants tied with a black silk sash.  His jet black hair was loosely tied at the base of his neck.  His smile, however, outshone anything he could have been wearing.  He approached Josh confidently behind Larén and held out his hand in greeting.  

"Hola, Josh.  Me llamo Mateo.  Ellos en Las Campas call me El Caballero, porque I always bring the finest horses to trade."  Mateo swept his stock with a quick glance. "Larén tells me you were quite taken with the stallion.  He is muy caro...pero we might make a bargain, ¿no?"  He flashed the youth another brilliant smile.  "Come, show me your choices young Josh."

~Larén Garcia de Las Campas~
and
~*~Mateo "El Caballero" Balbón~*~

Josh did not consider himself a wily horse trader. If the price set for the animals seemed too high, he would return to the inn and discuss it with Gynne. He smiled at Laren and his eyes followed the young gypsy to a tent and then stepped out with a tall man who was brightly garbed. From the man's bearing, Josh could tell that he was one of the leaders of the camp, and for a moment, Josh felt out of his element. He was more than willing to pay a fair price for the animals he favored and stepped forward to greet the one called "El Caballero." Hopefully, Josh thought, this will work out well for all concerned.

"Good day, Mister er ah El Caballero. Laren has shown me ye string of horses and I'd be a fool not to admire them. Certainly, if the price is fair, we'll come to an agreement that is satisfactory to all." He moved over to the two mules and nodded at Mateo. "I'd like to purchase these two." He then moved over to the stallion and looked him over once again. He ran his hand from the horse's ears down his broad back to his strong legs and was again taken with the docile nature of the beast. The horse stood totally still as if he realized the young man was taken with him.

Turning to Mateo, Josh seemed to be wrestling with his words. "This stallion is without a doubt magnificent. My mistress will be vera impressed with him; however, he's a bit short in stature for her, so I'm interested in purchasing this horse for myself, but, "and he shrugged his shoulders and sighed, "I'm not a rich man, Mateo, and he may be beyond what I'm able to pay." He seemed to smile apologetically at Laren perhaps looking for an understanding that being young was directly tied to tight pursestrings.

Taking a deep breath, he flashed his best smile at Mateo. "Well, sir, if ye please, what is ye askin price fer the two mules, and as these are fer me mistress, I'll have more latitude in the coins I spend. He glanced again at the black and white stallion with longing and braced himself for a price that was beyond his reach. "And, the price ye be askin for the stallion?"

Josh

"Good day, Mister er ah El Caballero.  Laren has shown me ye string of horses and I'd be a fool not to admire them.  Certainly, if the price is fair, we'll come to an agreement that is satisfactory to all."  He moved over to the two mules and nodded at Mateo.  "I'd like to purchase these two."

"Muchas gracias, Josh."  Mateo basked in the young man's praise.  "These horses are among the finest you'll see in Stormpoint."  Mateo returned the brief nod.  "Sí, I thought you might want the mules.  They are good burros for carrying cargo."  Mateo walked up to the docile mules, and they brayed in greeting.  "Hola, mis cariños."  The mules nuzzled his outstretched hands with great affection.  "¿Cómo estan hoy?"

Turning to Mateo, Josh seemed to be wrestling with his words.  "This stallion is without a doubt magnificent.  My mistress will be vera impressed with him; however, he's a bit short in stature for her, so I'm interested in purchasing this horse for myself, but, "and he shrugged his shoulders and sighed, "I'm not a rich man, Mateo, and he may be beyond what I'm able to pay."

Mateo smiled in sympathy at Josh's words.

"Well, sir, if ye please, what is ye askin price fer the two mules, and as these are fer me mistress, I'll have more latitude in the coins I spend.  He glanced again at the black and white stallion with longing and braced himself for a price that was beyond his reach. "And, the price ye be askin for the stallion?"  

Mateo walked back up and lightly patted the painted stallion on the rump.  "Los burros I could sell to you for sixty gold pieces each.  If you do not have so much coin, perhaps other arrangements could be made."  Mateo sighed softly as he scratched the magnificent horse behind his ears.  "Este caballo," Mateo mused, "him I would normally sell for two hundred forty gold."  Seeing the sad look in Josh's eyes, Mateo knew the price was beyond his means.  "Pero, young Josh perhaps we can make an arrangement."  Mateo stroked the soft coat of the stallion and considered his words.  "I think it would be a great loss to me not to be able to breed such a specimen to other mares.  If you would allow me to retain stud rights to this caballo muy bonito, I could negotiate a lower price."  Giving the stallion a final pat on the flank, Mateo smiled a brilliant smile at the young townsman.  "So Josh, what is your offer?"

~*~Mateo "El Caballero" Balbón~*~

Josh took in the gypsy's words and his price for the stallion and the mules. He nodded to himself for he felt it was a fair price; however, he did not have that kind of gold and let a whistle slide between his teeth. Motioning to the gypsies to follow him, he knelt by a round of hay. Pulling a square of black silk from his pocket, he laid it carefully over the makeshift table. Then, retrieving a velvet pouch from his inside pocket, he opened it gingerly. From it he took an exquisitely fashioned gold chain and laid it gently on the square of silk. The gold filigree chain was embedded with emeralds, rubies and diamonds; they sparkled with life in the late midday sun. He was sure that the worth of the strand of jewels was equal to what the master horseman was asking for the stallion.

His fingers returned once again to the pouch and extracted an exquisite strand of perfectly matched pearls that he lay beside the strand of jewels. Finally, he laid several small jewels on the black cloth; a pink pearl, a square emerald of deep green and a ruby the color of blood. Standing, he smiled at the gypsy called Mateo. "Sir, I fear that I've not that much gold, but still we may be able to reach an agreement. I'm offering for the stallion the gold chain of encrusted jewels. Fer the mules, ye may chose from among the other jewels or the strand of pearls."

Josh stepped back from the mound of hay and smiled. The gift from the pirate captain was befitting a queen and Josh knew that it was worth the price of the horse and the mules. But it was important for Josh to own the beautiful stallion for he had already had fallen in love with him. Also, he wished to be fair and wanted Mateo to know of his great appreciation of the animals and of his skill as a horse master.

"So, Mateo, do we have a deal?" Josh looked at the flamboyant figure and smiled again. "And, of course, you may use the services of my stallion as needed." He turned once more to let his gaze devour the stallion, and as if on cue, the horse made his way to the young lad and nuzzled his arm. Josh reached out and stoked the animal's muzzle and his smile widened. "Aye, my beauty, we shall make a fine pair you and I. He turned his serious gaze once more upon the gypsy and waited for his response.

Josh

Gabe sat in his chair at the back of the Dragon's Den. He was facing the door as any good warrior should, his back to the wall. To his left burned the fire and though it was quite warm over here, it was the best place from which to observe.

This place was not a bad place as taverns went. It wasn't the best and it wasn't the worst. The tables were clean though the floor was greasy and wet from spilled food and drink. He never wore the good boots here. Or the good clothes for that matter.

Here, a man's life was worth as much as the clothes on his back--and often as not, a good deal less. So here, he wore a ratty cloak, old tunic and trews and carried with him a tankard of ale that never seemed empty. His weapons were carefully concealed and a dagger was close at hand "just in case." He looked the role of the drunkard and anyone who didn't really know him, though of him as just that.

It is always wisest to be underestimated.

He took a sip from his tankard of watered down ale and plucked at the roast mutton sitting in a pool of mixed gravy and grease and spices. It was actually very good and he couldn't complain. He'd had far worse over the years. The potatoes were very good as well. Lightly spiced and cooked in butter and herbs, they were a nice companion to the meat.

The black-haired tavern-girl sauntered over to him and smiled brightly. Then, slowly, she winked as she leaned over to refill his beer. She never filled it more than a finger-joint or two in order to keep up the pretense that he was drinking more than he actually was. He smiled in return.

"Any trouble, Gabey?" she asked him with a broad wink.

He shook his head as he scanned the crowd. "No trouble... And no work. You'd think man of my reputation would draw someone in here to hire me." It was a common complaint the red-haired half-elf aired. He muttered it every time she asked the question.

She patted his shoulder and slipped a roll out of her apron, placing it on his plate. "I doubt you'll have to worry about that for long, my sweet." With a final survey of his table, she bounced away and went to the table of another patron.

He picked up the roll and pulled it apart to put some butter inside its warm, white center. Inside, however, was a note instead of dough. "Lady coming to hire. Be on the look out!" The note was scrawled in bad handwriting and was barely discernible but Gabe's eyes were used to it. The old man who'd passed it to him was one of those few who "knew" him and despite appearances, the weathered old fool had the sharpest ears and eyes around.

Gaboren Toth

In the back of the dark and overheated confines of the Dragon's Den, Gabe mulled his old friend's note as he neatly folded and placed it inside a deep pocket. Outside, rain had begun to patter against the window panes. Soon, the gray skies and wet would drive even more bodies into the claustrophobic sauna the Den was becoming.

He would soon be thankful for his proximity to the fireplace. It would keep the wet air at bay and hopefully the people as well, if they were already too warm. Of course, if it grew too hot, the keep would kill the fire. The big soup pot they kept there could be moved back into the kitchen if need-be. That would be both good and bad; More people would collect around Gabe, perhaps even daring to perch at HIS table though it would be thankfully MUCH cooler.

Resigned to his fate, Gabe leaned back in chair, lit a pipe and propped his feet on the table. His eyes watched the door, looking, scanning, waiting for the promised arrival of the woman who would come to hire him.

Gaboren Toth

Silver looked at the bottle and the small box in her hands. It was hardly appropriate to be wandering the streets and entering taverns with her hands full. She frowned slightly, knowing she would have to store these somewhere safe before venturing to look for this guide. Silver gave Gyndeene a grin before linking her arm back with her friends once she emerged from the store. "Mind if we make a quick stop?"

She knew Gyndeene wouldn't mind. Silver steered her friend down the street until her feet began the rhythmic canter on the docks. She grinned up at Ty who decided to holler from up on the ship something rather crude about the Captain strolling towards the Siren.

"Watch yer mouth you lice-ridden sea dog or I'll hang you from the mast!" Silver yelled back up, much to her first mate's amusement.

She beckoned him down, holding out the bottle and the box. "I'll return shortly, but until then these are in your charge Ty. They're very important."

The First Mate eyed his captain quizzically. She rarely left things under his watch unless they were important. Ty nodded and shrugged. "How much you think I can pawn these..." He paused, his eyes squinting and peering closer at the bottle. "Well, I'll be damned into the seven 'ells and then kissed by the Sirens. That is our ship!" He stared hard at the miniature in the bottle before his face broke into a wide grin.

Silver chuckled, eyeing Gyn and grinning. "Aye, now go make yourself useful on board and watch m'stuff."

She once again slid past Gyn to spin her around and link her arm back before wandering into Stormpoint. "Did Eowyn tell you anything about what this guide looks like?" Her brows furrowed. "How are we supposed to know it's him? Or is he going to know us?"

Silver shrugged, her gaze looking up until she realized she had wandered down the correct alley and they were almost at the Den. Silver lowered her arm from Gyndeene's and rolled her shoulders back before smiling. "Keep an eye out Gyn." She pushed open the door, her nostrils assaulted with the smell of drink, spices and sweat. Seeming in her own element, a lopsided smile quirked the corner of the Lady Captain's lips as she lead Gyndeene towards the bar.

Silver

The barkeep, a rotund man in his early fifties, approached them. He had a slight limp and scars betraying a life as hard in the past as it was in the present. His graying hair was cut short against his scalp and a fine dust of salt whiskers covered his chin, cheeks and upper lip. He was a hard-looking fellow but he had a twinkle in his eyes that spoke of more character than his body showed.

He reached for a clean cloth to wipe out a two tankards and filled them without prompting. "You ladies need anything?" he asked.

Meanwhile, in the back of the bar near the fireplace, a man cloaked from head to foot, face obscured, drank his ale and ate his potatoes in silence. To the casual observer, he was oblivious to everything, save the young lute-player plucking away clumsily at his instrument. But unknown to most, the stranger's eyes were carefully observing everything and everyone and they had taken careful note of the arrival of the two women.

Gaboren Toth

Gyndeene laughed at Silver's antics and listened to the discourse between her and her First Mate and grinned as she linked her arm through Silver's and headed to the Dragon's Den.  "Nay, Silver, I do not know what to expect other than the unexpected."

Together they entered the tavern.  Gyn wrinkled her nose at the smell of sweat and ale that assaulted her nose.  From under the deep brim of her hat, Gyn looked about the room, noting nothing untoward.  No one seemed to pay much attention to them as they approached the bar.  Smiling at the barkeep, Gyn ordered two ales as she leaned against the wooden structure.  Laying coins on the rough surface, she picked up the mug and sipped slowly.  "Ye know, Sil, I'm sure this character is fully expecting us."  Her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the tavern and she swiftly assessed those within.

One by one, she dismissed the patrons of the tavern as possible guides until her eyes fell upon a figure sitting far to the back of the room.  He was deeply cloaked and his features were hidden by the dark material that hung about his face.  Gyn's gaze slid to the musician who was plucking away at the strings of a lute and then back again to the dark stranger.  Could this be the infamous Gaboren Toth?  From what she knew of rangers, they tended to keep very much to themselves.

Turning to watch the barkeep, she waited and wondered how long it would take the ranger to approach them.

Gyndeene

Gabe smiled within the recesses of his cloak. There... At the bar, sniffing about the barkeep and drinking their beer as though they belonged here were two women. He recognized one of them as a seafarer, common enough in these places, but there was an aura of power that emanated from them both. He couldn't tell which one was doing the emanating but the seafarer seemed to radiate a power of her own that could easily put any man in his place.

The big half-elf would not be that man.

Instead, he watched them and drank his beer in silence. If they were looking for him, then they should look for him. He didn't need them, THEY needed him. If they needed him badly enough, they would come seeking him. Gaboren Toth would not be the one to seek out THEM.

Gaboren Toth

Silver smiled to Gyndeene and curled her fingers around the mug of ale, bringing the brew to her lips for a long, refreshing sip. She couldn't help but comment towards Gyndeene, regarding her distaste for the smell and atmosphere. "Not your type of establishment, Gyn?"

The Lady Captain chuckled, turning to face the tavern and rest an elbow on the countertop. She had followed Gyn's eyes earlier, taking note of the patrons on her way in. And, in accordance with having all her senses intact, noticed the man sitting next to the lute player. For someone trying to stay unnoticed, it was hardly a place to sit next to a bard.

Silver allowed a lopsided smile to slide over her lips at the thought. Instead, she simply tossed back another hearty sip of the ale and ran the back of her hand across her lips. Rolling her shoulders back to stand, she shot Gyn a wink before weaving her way easily through the room giving the bard a flashing smile.

It was as if this was reflex or habit, the way she dropped a hand to the table, fingers splayed on the wood and eyes dropping to level her gaze with the man in the back. "I come looking for a guide." She raised her hand off the table to loosely cross her arms. "I don't know for how long. I don't know exactly what order we plan to travel, but I do know we need to go to quite a few places. If you can't help me, I don't want to waste my time."

Silver tilted back on her heels and rocked slightly before her feet were firmly planted once again. Now all she had to do was wait.

Silver

Gyndeene smiled to herself as she watched Silver cross the littered floor of the tavern and admired her friend's straight forward approach.  Certainly, given time, she would have found her way to the stranger's table, hesitating only to get a better feel for the man.  Picking up her mug, she followed in her friend's footsteps lazily.  Her eyes never faltered as they watched the cloaked man. No doubt he had been in no hurry to approach them, and Gyndeene knew without a doubt that he had expected them.

She moved to flank her friend at the table and listened to the soft words spoken in a steely tone, "I don't know for how long. I don't know exactly what order we plan to travel, but I do know we need to go to quite a few places.  If you can't help me, I don't want to waste my time."

Gyndeene had to hold back a chuckle and wondered how the man would reply.  She had not doubted for a moment that this was the man of whom the Shoppekeeper had spoken and Gyn knew in her heart that she would not have misled them.  Certainly, there was more to this man than met the eye.  She waited quietly to find out just exactly what that was. 

Gyndeene

Gabe smiled inside the confines of his cloak. So... A challenge, was it? And the prospect of employment! He looked over the two women and then he dropped the subtle magic that whispered to someone's eyes, "I am insignificant" and pulled the cloak from his face.

Sitting in his seat, no longer hunched over and no longer insignificant, Gabe smiled. His shoulder-length red hair gleamed like fire and his blue eyes glittered with good nature. In the glow of the fire, they looked like bluish emeralds. He was big, too, for an elf. He lacked the ethereal grace of most of his kind. The man had broad shoulders, big arms and broad chest. He was clearly not one afraid of a fight. A heavy-hilted sword protruded slightly from over his shoulder. The tip of the scabbard rested on the floor, near the legs of his chair.

"Ah... A guide. I am that... Among other things, madam. But nothing comes free, you must understand." The big elf leaned forward and smiled disarmingly white teeth up at the captain. "You tell me what you expect to pay and I'll tell you if I'm worth it," he hissed, still smiling.

Gaboren Toth

Silver arched a brow as the man began his little speech. She cast a sidelong glance at Gyndeene and listened. With his hood tossed back, he seemed slightly more imposing. He had a strong build though she detected a hint of a point from his ear when he moved his head. Not bad, Gyndeene was a strong woman despite her half elven heritage as well.

She noted the sword on his back and the size of the weapon. It struck her as interesting that someone would carry a sword of that size. A two handed blade was a weapon she was familiar with but had not had a lot of experience in dealing with, if that's what it was. At least he wasn't a skinny little rat.

The Lady Captain tilted her head to listen closer as he hissed something about a price. "We'll see about how much you turn out to be worth." She allowed a slight smile to curve her lips and bit back any type of retort that was brewing in her mind. "That we can discuss in less watchful places. For now..." She paused, sliding a pouch off her hip and tossing it on the table. The numerous coins inside jingled as it hit the wood in front of him. "That should suffice you enough to gather your attention and see we understand that certain hazards involved will not go without reimbursement."

Silver's hands came to rest easily on her hips. "However, before I allow you to run off with my money, we are in need of a name." Once more, she glanced to Gyndeene while silently hoping they had guessed right and this was indeed the guide Eowyn had told them to find.

Silver

Gyndeene stared openly at the man called Gaboren Toth.  A bit surprised at his reaction, Gyn thought he certainly would make a good thespian, but, she wondered how he fared as a ranger.  Most rangers she knew were quiet and not flamboyant at all.  Perhaps in Stormpoint, they were different, and she trusted above all else Eowyn's judgment.  Her eyes met Silver's as she listened to her friend's discreet challenge to the man. 

She turned quickly as a scuffle at the back of the tavern drew her attention and watched a young lad wiggle free from the barkeep.  He made his way straight to the ranger's table and she watched him hand a package to Gabe.  As the young lad spoke to the ranger, Gyndeene only caught the phrase "Kuriousity Shoppe" when out of nowhere, a warning bell went off in her head.  She could not take the time to find out what was in the package or what message the shoppekeeper had sent, she only knew that she must return to the Mermaid without dispatch.

Biting her lip, she turned to Silver.  "Silver, we must return to the Mermaid at once."  She smiled apologetically.  "I am not sure why, but certainly this ranger can contact us there.  I dare not wait."  Turning back to the young lad, she waved off the keep and digging in her pocket, she handed the young lad a coin.  "Thank ye for ye help, young man."  Smiling, she glanced back at the red-haired ranger.  "Sorry, but we must leave as we are needed back at the Inn.  Should you be interested in guiding us to Darkelden, please contact us there."

Without a backward glance, she slipped her arm through her friend's and half dragged her out the door.  Setting out on a brisk pace, they made their way back to the Mermaid. 

Gyndeene

Josh's hands seemed to take on a volition of their own as he stooped over and swept the loose jewels into his pouch.  Carefully, his fingers wrapped the gold necklace and strand of pearls in the square of silk.  Trying to hide his consternation at the movements that were not his own, a small frown touched his lips.  If this were some trick of Gynne's, he would have some sharp words for her.  After all, he was working an important deal here.

He watched his hand pass the wrapped jewels to Mateo and struggled to find words to explain his actions.  To cover his confusion, he let a smile slid over his face.  "Tis, sorry I be, Mateo, but something urgent has come up that I must attend.  Please have the jewels appraised for their value, and if you feel we have a deal, contact me at the Mermaid Inn."  Josh turned his gaze to the young horseman.  "I thank you for your help and hope that we may become better acquainted soon."

Josh's movements were wooden as he left the gypsy camp, but once beyond its boundary, he broke into a fast dog trot.  His thoughts ran wild like a loosened tiger on the hunt.  What if Gynne was in trouble and this was her way of summoning him.  He frowned.  What if this Darkelden fellow was setting off his black magic?  His movements were no longer wooden as he broke into a dead run for the Mermaid.

Out of breath, Josh slowed his steps only long enough to shove open the door to the Inn and step inside.  All seemed normal.

Gyndeene's face was touched with pink as she and Silver entered the Inn.  She nodded at the Innkeeper who looked up in surprise as she tugged at Silver's arm, pulling her up the stairs to her room.  Taking a deep breath, Gyn's eyes were worried.  "Silver, I'm sorry, but I don't really have an explanation as to what happened back in the tavern.  I only felt this urgency to return here."  Sighing, she pulled a flask from her pack and poured an amber liquid into two glasses, handing one to Silver.  "Please," she motioned to a chair, "rest yourself while I try to figure this out."  Sliding to the floor, she sipped the amber liquid trying to calm her beating heart.

Silver, laughing quietly under her breath, paused for a moment to get her bearings and look around the room. The poor innkeeper looked as if he wanted to say hello, but Gyndeene, tugging on Silver's arm, swept right past him. Silver reached out to take the glass of liquid and offered a smile to her friend.  "Thank you, and no need for apology. You should know that!"

Silver slid into the chair and tilted back despite the protesting groans of the wood. A worried frown drew her features tight as she curiously watched Gyndeene. They had been together for so long that they could almost read each other thoughts and she had immediately sensed the mood change in Gyn.  She was worried, although she knew shortly Gyndeene would begin to explain what it is that bothered her. Silver silently waited, taking a sip of the liquid and watching Gyndeene quietly.

The innkeeper's look was perplexed for the young man seemed quite flustered.  "Be ye lookin fer ye Mistress?"  Josh nodded in assent.  "Aye, I am."  A smile broke across the stern features of the innkeeper's face.  "She and another went up the stairs a bit ago so quickly that I was unable to give her this package."  He dug under the counter and pulled out a most unusual box and handed it to the lad.  "Be so kind and take this to her."  Bewilderment filled Josh's face as he turned the box over in his hand.  He had never seen such delicate work for the box seemed to be made of silver branches woven tightly together with no apparent opening.  "Aye, sir, I shall take it right up.  Do ye know who delivered this parcel?"  He studied the innkeeper's face closely.  "Nay, lad, t'was left on the counter with a note that it was for the Mistress Gyndeene."

Josh smiled his thanks and holding tightly to the box, he made his way slowly up the stairs.  What if this was some trick of Darkelden's and it held something deadly.  He bit his lip and wondered if he should perhaps just toss it out the window, but thought better of it.  After all, it would be good to know what this dark mage was up to and perhaps the answer lie in the box.  Walking quietly on the balls of his feet, he approached Gyn's door slowly.  Perhaps she was being held under duress.  He pulled a small dagger from his boot and crouched low, before kicking the door wide open with his foot.

Boom.  The door flew open and Gyn could hear the splinter of wood. Her eyes were wide with astonishment as she gazed at Josh standing in the middle of the doorway with a dagger in one hand and a silver box in the other.  Nervous laughter bubbled over her stiff lips and she shook her head.  "What an entrance ye made, Josh.  Is something up?"

His face turned scarlet as he looked at the two women who were sitting comfortably in the room.  Certainly, they were in no apparent danger.  Groaning deeply, he said, "Sorry bout the door, Gynne, but had this feeling something was vera wrong."  Trying to hide his embarrassment, he turned and with some difficulty was able to close the door.  Pleased with his success, he turned back to his mistress and handed her the box.  "This was left with the innkeeper and he asked me to give it to you.  Do you have any idea what it is?"  Hoping she did, he sat down on the floor beside her, all the while wondering if he had done the right thing in giving her the box.

Gyndeene and Silver

By the time Kit was finished with her lessons, she was exhausted. Wendell, though well-meaning, had a tendency to lose all sense of time when dealing with locks. Truthfully, he tended to lose his sense of place and purpose as well and would drift off into silent fascination while his fingers worked busily on a small contraption composed of gears and switches. She was used to this though, having known Wendell almost half of her life. He was always tinkering with something and it always drew his focus deeply. The others on her team said it was why he'd wound up in the guild . . . something about not being able to carry on his family's business. Kit wasn't entirely sure what they meant, but she knew that Wendell was kind even if somewhat odd. She had thus endured the lesson, prolonged as it was by her instructor's distractions, with extraordinary patience. Now, however, back in her room, she collapsed on her cot with a tired sigh and began to rub the aches from her tiny fingers.

As she did so, she tried to think of what she'd tell Josh and the elven . . . no, she corrected herself, remembering that some grown ups were sensitive about such things . . . the half-elven woman Gyndeene. She was usually good at spinning stories, but this was a bit different. It was one thing to convince a mark that she was street orphan or a young serving girl in a neighbor's employ in order to pick a pocket or get a closer view of a team target. It was quite another, however, to convince someone that they should take a ten-year-old girl, ostensibly under the care of at least a guardian, away from her home and through the Shattered Lands in search of a power-mad mage. Each story she came up with seemed more ridiculous than its predecessor. If she'd only been a few years older . . . but she wasn't, and so was forced to work with the obvious facts at hand. She had, however, resolved two things.

First, she was going with them, even if she had to follow them on the sly. Second, though she might be forced to concede she wasn't what she pretended, she'd make no mention of the guild. There were several urchins in the city who "earned" their bread with specious tales and featherlight fingers. Some of them even worked with grown-ups to make their stories more convincing. Let them think she was one of these or, if that failed, a remnant from the broken Claws, but she wouldn't lead them back to her own guild . . . both for her sake and theirs.

Decided at least on her general course of action, if not her specific path, she sat up on her cot and scooted to its edge before hopping down to the floor. Her fingers still ached slightly, but the pain was subsiding, and by the time she had changed clothes and pulled back her hair with a thick strip of leather they felt normal once again. She wasn't sure when Gyndeene and Josh planned to set off in search of Darkelden, and thus didn't know if she'd have a chance to return to the guild before they left the city. She stewed for a bit, wondering what, if anything, to take with her, until she finally decided to err on the side of caution and gather a few things. Fortunately, all the items she thought she might need were small enough to be tucked away here or there, and none of them were overtly suspicious. When she thought she had everything, she gave final look around her tiny room, snuffed the low-burning candles that sat beside her cot, and left with only a small amount of hesitation.

She spoke to no one as she wound her way through the guild and back into the city streets. It was later than she'd thought. The afternoon had stretched to its limit and the sky would soon be darkening. It was a good time, however, as it meant those she was looking for would likely be at the inn soon if they weren't already. She'd never been inside the Mermaid before, but she knew where it was and found it without difficulty. The fact that the sign which hung over the door was shaped and painted to look like a mermaid with a deep green tail and curiously red hair made the matter all the easier.

Inside, Kit found herself in a near empty common room. The sole patrons were sitting by the bar chatting with the keep who kept looking in the direction of the kitchen. From the sound and smells that were wafting from that direction, Kit could tell that the evening meal would be ready soon, and she debated whether she should ask the keep if Gyndeene and Josh were in, or simply wait for their appetites to bring them to her. It was only then that she realized that she'd never given them a name. Moreover, she hadn't yet thought of one to give them.

Embarrassed at her oversight, she quickly tried to think of one and was soon surprised by how difficult it was. The only name that really seemed to fit her was her own. Everything else that came to mind was either too grown up or too fancy or too ..... something, she didn't know what. She finally decided on one she'd heard Quaralyn use before. It was simple, easy to remember, and had quite caught her young ear at the time.

With name in hand, or rather, in mind, she returned to the question of whether seek or to wait. The room was starting to fill up a bit now, as guests were descending the stairs from their rooms above and others were spilling slowly in from the streets outside. The mealtime stir was bound to draw their attention if they were in, and if they weren't, there was nothing she could do but bide her time. She thus decided that she would wait . . . at least, for a little while.

Kit

"Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour."

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"The Children's Hour"

Gyndeene turned the box over in her hand and bit her lip.  Who had sent this?  Did it have something to do with Darkelden?  Was he up to no good?  She watched with astonishment as the box levitated from her hand and floated about the room.  Four pair of eyes watched the box as it slowly settled on the floor.  The silver branches came alive, twisting and turning and expanding and reweaving themselves until a small wooden trunk evolved.

With some trepidation, Gyn approached the trunk and unhooked the metal latch.  Pushing the lid open, she peered inside.  Puzzled, she looked at her friends.  "The trunk is empty. "  She moved away from the trunk and picked up her glass, sipping the liquid as the tried to calm her nerves.  "I have no idea what is happening here."   She stared at the trunk as if the silver sheen of the wood held the answers to the many questions swirling about her head.  Where did this trunk come from?  What was its purpose?  She glanced at Silver and Josh, but they too seemed to be at a loss for words.

Just as her frustration began to build, a parchment scroll tied with a colorful bow appeared from the trunk, and as if caught on a current of air, drifted over to Gyndeene.  Setting her glass down, she reached for the scroll and untied the bow.  The scroll fell open and Gyndeene's hands trembled as she stared at the broad strokes of the ancient Elven script.  She struggled trying to recall what little she knew of this language, and a frustrating frown filled her face.  As her eyes ran over the lines, they reshaped themselves into the common language.  Startled, she began reading the message aloud. 

"Greetings, Gyndeene:  In this trunk are gifts from the Kingdom of Sarenalon to help you in your quest to retrieve the stolen Moonblade.  I am grateful for your willingness and the willingness of your friends to face a difficult foe in order to retrieve this valuable sword.  Use the gifts wisely and they will do well for you.  For concealment, you will find Cloaks of Elven kind for you and your friends."

As the words left Gyn's lips, thistledown cloaks floated up from the trunk, draping themselves over the open lid. 

"When these cloaks are worn, you will blend into your surroundings, making you invisible.  But beware, they can be detected by strong magic. There are also Elven boots to keep your footsteps silent."

Gyndeene shook her head in disbelief as boots rose from the trunk and floated down to the floor.

"Study the spell book well for therein lies a way to the Moonblade.

The spell book appeared from the trunk along with several vials of colorful liquid.

"The assorted potions will be useful to you in many ways and you shall be aware of how to use them when the time comes.  Though seeming frivolous, I have sent a flask of Feywine.  You are aware of how potent it is and perhaps when you when in a difficult situation you will find a use for it.  If not, I hope you enjoy this fragrant brew."

As Gyndeene continued reading from the scroll, items continued to appear from the trunk.

"The next gift is important to your safety and ultimate success.  I am sending you Deamon's Bane.  The blade will glow a soft crimson when deamons are near as a warning." 

Gyndeene's eyes widen as the beautiful sword appeared.  The hilt was of crimson red Heartwood bound by leather.  A small fire emerald sat in the pommel of the blade and carved heartwood angel wings circled with gold metal strands separated the blade from the pommel.  The blade itself was of pure silver with blood letting down its center with ancient Elven runes running the length of the blade.

"Once you enter the tangled forest, carry this blade at all times.  It is a holy blade of our ancestors and will guard you well.  Finally, Cael has agreed to act as your companion and guide on the difficult road you must travel.  He is a Cooshee and when his duty is done, he will return to Sarenalon.   He will guide you through the tangled forest.  He is fearless and  will guard you and your friends well.  His strength lies in his ability to forewarn you of dangers within the forest." 

"You have many abilities, Gyndeene, that you are not aware of.  Your night vision will serve you well, though not as strong as one of full blood, you have it.  Use it and discover secret doors that will lead you to the Moonblade.  Also, use your intuition and follow your head not your heart.  Trust your inner being and chose wisely."

"May the gods be with you and stay at your side throughout your dangerous journey."

"Mother Laumari, Queen of Sarenalon."

As the final words left her lips, the parchment disintegrated until all that was left was the colorful bow.  Gyndeene stared intently at the trunk.  Her head was in a spin--a Cooshee.  She knew such beings existed, but had never seen one.  A true Elven hound.  She knew few were ever seen far from their Elven masters.  Sitting back on her heels, she waited.  Unprepared for the huge animal that leapt from the trunk, she gaped in awe.  Her eyes followed him as he moved gracefully about the room.  Finding a spot to his liking, he settled along side Josh.

The animal surely weighed 300 stone and stood at least four feet at the shoulders.  His greenish-tinged coat was rough and covered with large brown spots and reminded Gyn of a leopard.   A bushy tail arched high over his back and his ears were sharp and pointed.  Wide eyes were set in a large head, and his snout was short.  The huge mouth seemed to curve up in a smile.  Gyn almost laughed, for the animal's feature reminded her more of a cat than a dog.  Her thought seemed to make its way to the hound and a massive growl emitted from deep in his throat as if in rebuttal of her thought.  She shivered a bit and had no doubt he would be dangerous when riled.  His intelligent eyes studied first one woman and then the other and seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he laid his head on his paws and closed his eyes.

Gyndeene

Silver arched a brow as the box began to turn and rotate, shaping into a trunk. With a slight glance in Josh's direction, she slid to the edge of the chair and crossed her arms lightly over her knees. "Gyn...I hope you know what you're getting into..."

The woman paused as the trunk opened and a scroll floated out to Gyn's hands. Silver bit her lower lip as Gyndeene began to read and listened intently. She knew most of Gyn's past, though there were very few things she wasn't quite sure of. Each item Gyn began to speak of would appear and drape itself on or next to the opened trunk. Whoever sent this, must be of great importance and have the utmost faith in Gyndeene to send such wonderful gifts and useful items for the journey.

It was only when the last item, or rather animal, was mentioned that Silver's fingers instinctively went to the dagger in her boot. Menacing it was, the Cooshee seemed to offer no reason for Silver to get upset. Silver eyed the animal curiously as it was certainly a strange looking beast. It leapt out of the trunk and settled next to Josh, and looking at his apparent hesitancy, the Lady Captain grinned. She looked to the Cooshee, Josh and then finally Gyndeene.

"Well if that wasn't a box of surprises...." She laughed quietly. "Should we name the new member of our group? Josh I'd play nicely if I were you..." settling back in her chair, though keeping a wary eye on the animal, Silver smiled. "It seems that we find surprises around every turn, no?"

Silver

Within the filling common room, Kit waited for the appearance of Gyndeene or Josh. She waited while piping bowls of heavy stew were carried to variously shaped wooden tables and set before variously shaped guests. She waited while her tiny stomach churned then growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten before she left the guild. She waited while a bard arranged herself in a visible spot and began to weave a tuneful song. She waited for what seemed an eternity.

In actuality, it was seventeen minutes.

While the young thief had more patience that the average ten year old, she didn't have much more. And so, tired of waiting and unable to stop fidgeting, Kit managed to wait just until the keep and serving maids were suitably occupied before scurrying up the stairs as quietly as such speed would allow. She didn't know what room either Josh or Gyndeene were in and had no real plan as to how she would find them. She was, therefore, quite lucky and considerably surprised to find the door of one room both ajar and terribly splintered. Her heart skipped a beat and her mind raced with a flurry of questions.

Was this Josh's room . . . or Gyndeene's? Had someone broken in? Josh had said they were looking for Darkelden, and Galyn had warned her that the mage was far beyond dangerous. Had he come looking for them . . . or sent someone after them? Were they ok? What should she do?

She was about to run back down the stairs and alert the innkeeper when she heard Gyndeene's voice within the room. It sounded strange, and she crept closer to learn why.

"Study the spell book well, for therein lies a way to the Moonblade . . ."

It was Gyndeene's voice, but it just didn't sound the way she remembered it. It sounded . . . she couldn't decide what . . . too formal maybe. She padded forward until she was able to peer through a crack in the splintered door. Ah . . . she was reading something. That explained it. Josh was there as well. He looked tired and disheveled, with bits of wood splinters clinging to his pant legs. The tall blond woman, Silver, was also present. They were both listening as Gyndeene read from the letter. Uncertain of what she should do, Kit decided to listen as well.

Her eyes widened in childlike wonder when several items flew from trunk as Gyndeene gave them name. She'd never seen Galyn do anything like that! Gyndeene must be a powerful mage herself. And such amazing items! To the small child they seemed like objects from a fairy tale, albeit a dark one, and her pulse quickened again, this time with excitement, at the thought of playing a role in grand adventure, completely forgetting her concern of but moments ago. 'After all,' she reasoned, 'no one gets hurt in fairy tales . . . well, no one good.'

Her thoughts continued in similar vein as Gyndeene read and more items appeared, each more marvelous than the last. She was hard-pressed to think of what could top the sword when the largest, strongest, and greenest dog she had ever seen leapt from the trunk. Greenest? She gasped audibly and blinked her eyes, thinking that a free-flying mote from the splintered door must have affected her vision. The dog, however, remained the same color.

Kit

"Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour."

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"The Children's Hour"

Fog ........ fog and light ....... fog, light, and sound ...... a thousand points of sound .......... each a shattering, splintering echo that sliced through shrouded senses and tore the sleeper into wakefulness once more. Instinct drove it, pushing it forward in a churning cloud of fervor with thought only attendant in its wake. It was from this wake that whispers of tattered fears reached out, goading the wraith further ...... danger ...... harm ....... enemy ....... Gyndeene. The sleeper didn't stop to think, couldn't stop to think, that it might be mistaken. It could only speed blindly forward with senses it didn't understand and couldn't explain.

Guided, or perhaps pulled, by these unknown intuitions, the wraith sped with silent insubstantiality into the room it felt ........ it knew ........ to be Gyndeene's. She was there, as was her friend of yester eve, expressions of surprise drawn tight across their faces. They weren't alone. A young man was there as well, standing in the remnants of a shattered door frame, a dagger in hand. For an instant, for a nigh imperceptible moment, a thin shimmer of gold and scarlet shone where the sleeper hovered. It vanished, however, when Gyndeene and her friend traded their expressions of surprise for those of amusement, laughter spilling forth from their lips.

"What an entrance ye made, Josh," the elven woman finally intoned, stifling back her laughter.

She knew him. He was no threat. The wraith looked closer and recognition began to take hold. Yes. This young man had been present yester eve as well. He'd spent time with the girl. The sleeper wondered briefly what had happened to her, but was then confused by Gyndeene's next question.

"Is something up?"

The wraith looked up. Aside from the ceiling, which was in a questionable state of repair given the overall tenor of the inn, the wraith saw nothing unusual. Was she speaking of something outside? Something on the roof? Wary of threat, but no longer without reason, the sleeper rose and passed through the beams of the ceiling to survey the roof beyond.

It was growing dark outside, and the inn's two chimneys were putting out steady streams of smoke, obscuring the wraith's "sight" with clouds as immaterial as the spectre itself. Had it the ability, the wraith would have grimaced, its already uncertain mood now further befouled by frustration and cruel irony. Lacking even this wry comfort, however, the sleeper scanned both roof and horizon. Neither held any threat that the wraith could see, and so it descended back into the inn, back once more among the warmth of the living.

The three within had changed positions, and the half-elf woman seemed to be reading a missive of some sort. As she spoke, objects rose unaided from a trunk at her feet. This time the wraith was certain that it was, in fact, wearing an incorporeal grimace. Elven craft. The vapors that comprised the ethereal creature roiled in disgust, inborn or learned, before it managed to master itself once more. It had pledged its aid to the woman, and she'd given no firm reason to doubt the wisdom of that pledge. Sullen, but resigned, the wraith thus listened and watched while the woman read and more objects appeared.

Somewhere along the way, what remained of its mind began to drift. Once again, it seemed to spiral upward, floating out of itself into darkness ......... no ....... from darkness to a flickering light that grew stronger and more desperate as the sleeper drew closer. The same pulsing, roaring sound soon joined its long-held mate and the two, strengthened by their unholy embrace, moved once more against the sleeper. It wasn't real. The wraith knew that this time, or at least, part of it did; but it seemed not to matter. Reality was but a word, an empty concept that no longer held sure meaning for the wraith. Having seen both sides of the grave, the sleeper now found many formerly strong boundaries to be shadowy and vague; and it could no longer say with certainty where one ended and another began. Fortunately, others could.

From somewhere beyond the light and the swelling sound, a new sound pricked the sleeper's ears. It was small, and meant to be quiet. Perhaps this was why it was heard when others were not. Whatever the reason, the sound, the quiet yet sharp intake of breath, pulled the wraith from the grasp of its vision and plunged it back into the "reality" of the room. The reality, however, had changed.

Gyndeene, her tall blond friend, and the young man were still present, but in their midst stood a burly creature of fur and fang. Its coat was green and brown, an unnatural combination that, to the wraith, bespoke an infernal origin. For the second time a thin shimmer of scarlet and gold shone where the wraith hovered; but again, it disappeared as Gyndeene and her companions appeared undisturbed. They even referred to the creature as part of their "group." Shifting its essence in what might have been the equivalent of a sigh, the wraith resigned itself to this as well, fearing that it would not be the last event to give it pause.

Much had changed, it decided, since it was as the others now were; and whether those changes were for good or ill, the wraith could not yet say.

Wraithshade

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague.
Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"

Edgar Allan Poe
"The Premature Burial" (1850)

Outside Gyndeene's room and down the torch-lit hallway of the inn's second floor, a set hurried footsteps rang out from the stairway, growing quickly louder and steadily closer. Uneven and untrained, they'd scarcely had time to herald the arrival of their maker when a gangly young lad came bounding, flush-faced, into view. He was surely no more than twelve, if the hairless curve of his chin could be trusted, and his unseemly arrival would normally have attracted the attention and action of the inn-keeper. His youthful face and scurrying gait, however, were well-known to both inn-keeper and staff alike, and they'd thus let him pass with only a collective look of curiosity sparked by the same unspoken question: "Who and what was it this time?"

Unconcerned with, or perhaps unaware of, their wonderings, the lad had rushed past them with the same oblivious haste he used as he continued down the second floor hall. He slowed only when noticed the young thief, Kit, lurking outside a room with a recently damaged door. He didn't know who she was, and if he had any suspicions as to why she was there, he gave no indication, but merely cocked his head with a quizzical gaze as he stopped beside her and wrapped purposefully on one of the more solid sections of the door. He was rewarded with no less than three splinters in his knuckles, which drew first an examining look, and then a frown, and then a shrug while he waited beside the offending entryway. He bobbed from his toes to his heels as he waited, looking again at Kit and offering a brief smile before he heard what he thought was an invitation to enter coming from inside the room.

He didn't wait to verify his thought, but instead opened the door with a more careful hand and stepped awkwardly into the room, avoiding the shards and splinters of wood that lay scattered by the vestibule. He shrugged again as he looked down at the bits, then raised his head to look from one occupant of the room to the next. Apparently deciding that Gyndeene fit the description he'd been given, he handed her a tightly-wound scroll sealed with a circle of dark green wax. He didn't wait for a tip, but spun back round toward the door and leapt spryly across the wooden debris. Landing in the hallway with a satisfied thump, he flashed a final smile toward Kit, punctuating it with a curt and impish nod before racing back down the hall and out of sight in the same manner he'd come.

Eowyn

"Pereat qui crastina curat!
Mors aurem vellens 'vivite' ait, 'venio!'"

Virgil, Copa 1. 37

Gyndeene felt as if they were all thespians on a stage waiting for the curtain to rise on the next act. She smiled at Silver's words and nodded her head in agreement. "Aye, I too wonder what our next surprise will be." Her troubled gaze left the reassuring smile of her friend and paused upon her young friend. Suddenly, she felt very old and a shiver of fear circled her heart. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of scarlet and gold. The corner of her lips turned upward and for some reason she felt better. Willow was again amongst them; she didn't know how she knew this, but she just knew. Perhaps this was an omen; a good one.

"Well, we all have a lot to do. Josh, forget the pack horses for now. Send a note to the gypsy camp with a bag of gold and we'll collect the animals when we return to Stormpoint. For now, we'll just have to go with what we have. I do believe this trunk can carry all we need." Josh muttered something under his breath and turned a deep red as he felt the women's eyes upon him. His intended reply was cut short by a knock on the door. The cooshee issued a warning. Gyn's eyes narrowed speculatively wondering what now. "Aye, come."

The battered door opened slowly and a young lad strode forth. He studied Gyn for a moment and then handed her a scroll he took from the inside of his jacket; as soon as her fingers touched the parchment, the lad turned on his heels. Without so much as a by your by, he jumped over the splintered, wooden slats, landed softly on the other side of the door and disappeared down the hall.

Gyndeene turned the scroll over in her hand and examined the intricate, dark green seal. Puzzled, she glanced at her friend. "Silver, I've not seen this mark before, but have a strong feeling it just might belong to the shopkeeper; what do ye think?" Silver did not reply, but a smile danced across her lips. She watched quietly as Gyn broke the seal and smoothed out the paper. Gyn's face revealed little as she read the words it contained.

The curtain was rising and act two was about to begin.

Gyndeene

"Umm, this is quite interesting. Perhaps fate is on our side after all." She glanced at Silver as she read the missive out loud.

Gyndeene,

I've given some further thought to your need for a guide and, on the chance that Mr. Toth proves unavailable, you may wish to consider the services of one Lyral Kelazar, who has recently and fortuitously returned to Stormpoint from the Shattered Lands. Though she lacks Mr. Toth's specific experience, she possesses first-hand knowledge of the areas you seek, as well as certain other skills, which you may find useful. As your circumstances dictate prudence, I've spoken with her in only the most general terms about your needs, leaving the details for you to explain as your comfort warrants. I have, however, taken the liberty of asking her to stop by your room for the dual purposes of delivering your purchases and discussing the possibilities of hire.

Namaarie ar' quel fara,

Eowyn

Gyndeene's brow furrowed as she sought the meaning of Eowyn's words—both said and unsaid. Sighing loudly, she handed the scroll to Silver. "We are certainly in need of a guide, and one that has just returned from the Shattered Lands could not be more perfect. Obviously, she will be able to give us good advice on what to expect and with luck, she might have heard of Darkelden." A smile broke through the frown on Gyn's face and she chuckled. "Hopefully, her other skills, whatever they may be, will also be helpful. Fortuitous? I'm not sure nor will I be until all the guide's skills are tested." She chuckled to herself at the shopkeeper's final line. She was not totally sure of her translation, but the words "good hunting" rather popped up in her mind.

She whispered softly under her breath, "I hope we have good hunting, Lady Eowyn, and can only pray that the hunters do not turn into the hunted."

Gyndeene

Outside the door of the Mermaid Inn stood a slim, half-elven woman of indeterminate age. She was dressed in brown and green leather suitable for travel and had long, blond hair that fell down her back in a single-woven braid. A small pack was flung over one shoulder. She might have been like any of the myriad travelers that visited the port city of Stormpoint, the only unusual point being an elaborate design of coal that started above her left eye and trailed down beneath the collar of her tunic. In her hand was a small piece of parchment, which she looked at for final time before taking a deep breath and stepping inside the inn.

The evening meal hour was drawing to a close, but the common room of the inn was still filled with patrons. Most had a tankard of ale in hand and a few of the men had circles of pipesmoke obscuring their features. A bard was strumming a dulcimer and adding her voice to its mellow tune while a low-burning fire bathed the room in a flickering glow of warmth. In all, the patrons seemed wrapped in a blanket of sated contentment, and few had noticed the woman's arrival. She, on the other hand, appeared acutely aware them. Her interest, however was quick-fading, and she soon turned her head from their sedated pleasantries to look for the keep.

The inn's bar was located just to the right of the door, and behind it stood a ruddy-faced man who had all the markings of an innkeep. The woman hefted the small pack she was carrying higher on her shoulder and stepped quietly in his direction. It didn't take the man long to notice a potential patron, and he approached with a lumbered step and a welcoming grin.

"Evening, miss. What'll it be?"

"I'm looking for one your guests, Gyndeene of Aquilar. I've a package to deliver. Eowyn sent me."

"Right," the keep nodded in response, "right. I got note brought by that bird of hers. Said you'd be here. She's just up the stairs. Third room on the left."

The woman thanked him and turned from the bar with a small look of surprise that suggested that she hadn't expected it to be that easy.

Though well-proportioned, the common room wasn't that large, and in only a few steps the woman had reached the stairs and started to climb. The second stair from the top creaked slightly as she passed, but she gave it no heed. Instead, she appeared to be focusing on a young girl who was standing alone in the hallway. She looked too young to be about on her own, but there was no guardian in sight. The combination elicited a small frown from the woman, but she said nothing as the girl whisked further down the hallway and out of sight around a corner. It was only after she left that the woman realized that she'd been standing before the third room on the left.

Of equal, or perhaps greater, oddity was the fact that this same door was partially ajar and significantly splintered. The woman's green eyes narrowed, and one hand found the hilt of a dagger at her side while another rapped gently at what remained of the door.

Lyral Kelazar

In the silent minute that followed her rap upon the door, the woman stood motionless in the hallway. Her muscles were tense and her ears strained to hear anything that might lie beyond the splintered frame. There was nothing. She grimaced and tightened her grip on the dagger at her waist, apparently considering her options. The narrowing look in her eyes indicated a measure of unhappiness, and a risked glance back down the stairs suggested that the enlistment of aid might be prudent; but the muffled sound of a small foot around the corner drew her head back in a quick snap. The girl, it seemed, was still there ...... watching. The woman's chest rose with an unheard sigh and the choice was made. Drawing the dagger from her belt and readying it for flight, she snuffed the sole lantern in sight and plunged the hallway into darkness.

Downstairs, the bard was still singing and the patrons were still sharing mumbled conversations, unaware of the smoky darkness above. Around the corner, was the sound of small feet scampering in quick retreat, all too aware of the danger of discovery. Within the darkened hall, the woman pressed herself flat against the wall beside the fractured door, slowly pushed it open with her free hand, and waited for a reaction.

Lyral Kelazar

Gyndeene finished re-packing the trunk. Silver appeared to be deep in thought and Jost watched Gyn's hurried movements disapprovingly. Sensing a presence, Gyn turned slowly surveying the corners of the room with her eyes stopping at the splintered door. Her uneasiness increased.

Josh intuitively stood and turned toward the door. The cooshee stood by his side, gold eyes glittering as a threatening growl dared the intruder to enter.

In a move barely detectable, Gyndeene withdrew her dagger from her boot and held it tightly along side of her leg. "Was this it," she wondered, "Was the evil wizard about?" Her heart skipped a beat as she watched the door open slowly.

Gyndeene

Lyral remained deadly quiet in the darkened hall as the door opened, slow and silent. Within the room, no one spoke, and no one stirred. The druid grimaced in response, suggesting that she had hoped for some hint of whom or what lay inside. It wasn't empty, that much was clear. The small girl peeking within had seemed too interested to be staring at an empty room. More importantly, the room hummed with life. Someone or something was inside.

The woman's eyes closed in what might have been momentary frustration, and opened in the same manner before a spark of hope finally lit them. It seemed that an opportunity had spread itself full before her feet. The lamps inside the room must have been low-burning and directed towards the back wall, providing ample light to those within chamber, but casting little light beyond its threshold. The result was a thick patch of darkness that covered the entire floor just outside the door and extended halfway up the opposing wall. Anyone standing within its inky borders would be able to peer, unseen, into the pale-lighted room beyond.

A flicker of consideration sparked in the woman's eyes. It was risky, but it was likely the best chance she was going to get. Drawing a silent breath, she took it, crouching low and creeping in catlike quiet beneath the beckoning wing of shadow. Her pack, she had left on the floor by the wall, and her dagger, she concealed behind her back, lest it catch and reflect some stray mote of light. She soon saw, however, that she had no need of it.

Four figures, still as stone, stood within the room, looking outward with readied hands and baited breath. Two were women, both tall and fair-headed. One, a half-elf with clear turquoise eyes, matched the description of the woman she was looking for. The other, a human with sea-tanned skin, fit the description of the captain she was likely to be traveling with. The third figure was a young man, somewhere in his late teens. Of him, the druid had heard nothing, but as the women accepted his presence, Lyral deemed him to be of no danger. Finally, there was the dog. Green-coated and sharp-eared, the dog was clearly a coushee, a curious companion given the company lacked any full elves. The druid's brows raised involuntarily as she slid her dagger back into her belt, indicating that, for better or worse, it was time to find out what was going on.

Resolved, Lyral rehoisted her pack to her shoulder, rose from her crouch, and stepped easily into the room.

"Gyndeene? Gyndeene of Aquilar?" she asked, addressing the half-elven woman. "I'm told you're setting out on an expedition. I'm also told you're in need of a guide. What I'm not told, however, is anything specific. I think Eowyn wanted to leave that to you. This is from her, by the way," she added, resting the pack she carried on a nearby table. "Your purchases from her shop."

She stopped suddenly and spun her head first to the left, then to the right, looking as if her attention had been drawn by some nearby sound or flash of light. There was nothing to be seen or heard. She glanced behind and then upward in a slower, more careful manner, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the room. Still, there was nothing, but her fingers itched for the hilt of dagger.

"This place isn't safe," she said finally in clipped tones. "There's something here -- something unnatural."

Lyral Kelazar

Gyndeene had the impulse to laugh hysterically; in part, because Lyral Kelazar had appeared rather than Darkelden and, in part, because Lyral had expressed Gyn's exact thoughts and it was comforting to know that her imagination was not out of control. Pulling herself together, she slipped her dagger back into her boot and turned her full attention on the woman who identified herself as Lyral Kelazar.

Lyral stood straight and tall giving no hint of the turmoil her comment had aroused in Gyn. Gyn knew without a doubt that someone or something had invaded their privacy. A frown crossed her brow like wind upon still water. Who was it and what had they wanted. Sighing softly, she cleared these troubling questions from her mind. Stepping forward, Gyn smiled. "I am Gyndeene of Aquilar and this is Silver my good friend and my ward, Josh. Collectively, we are happy to see you and hope you will agree to guide us through the Shattered Lands."

Pointing to a chair, she invited her guest to be seated and with a wave of her hand indicated the others should sit as well. Gyn slowly slipped to the floor and crossed her legs in front of her. "I know from Eowyn's missive that she told you little about our quest. First of all, the journey that we are undertaking is indeed a very dangerous one, and one from which none of us may return. Having said that, Lyral, are you still interested in helping us?"

As Gyn waited for an answer, she studied the woman openly—green and brown suited her well and Gyn guessed that she was probably more at ease in the forest than in the city. The charcoal markings that traced a pattern down the left side of the women's face intrigued Gyn and she wondered about their origin.

The players were in place, the curtain was up, and the first scene was about to begin.

Gyndeene

The moment was tense and Josh could feel the hairs stand straight out on the back of his neck. Ready for the worst, he crouched ready to spring forward should danger be imminent. He could feel the cat's muscles ripple beneath his fingers as a low growl left the feline's throat.

Sheer surprise was visible when the woman in brown and green stepped through the doorway. He relaxed and curled his fingers in the cat's thick fur. He glanced at Gyn and Silver; they too had been expecting trouble. He listened to the woman's words and a foolish grin touched his lips. They had all been wound as tight as a spring.

With the swiftness of a horse racing home, Josh's face became blank. Only his eyes glittered with suspicion. Taking in every detail of the woman, he thought, "Was she trustworthy?" After all, he was not even sure they could trust the shopkeeper. This city was foreign to him, and he found himself longing for Rydin or for the deck of a ship under his feet.

Reluctantly, he sank to the floor at Gyn's command. The absurdity of this whole thing bothered him deeply. Gynne too easily felt responsible for situations not of her making. Her words burned in his brain. "One from which none of us may return." He only hoped the woman called Lyral Kelazar knew her business and that the trunk of Elven tricks would help to keep them all alive.

Josh Devlin

Ward of Gyndeene

"Having said that, Lyral, are you still interested in helping us?"

Lyral wasn't sure. More accurately, she was struggling to keep the healthy degree of astonishment she felt from showing on her face. She'd just told them that they weren't alone in the room, that there was something "unnatural" with them. It was a statement that should have elicited concern. But the only thing it elicited from Gyndeene and her companions was a series of introductions and a cursory explanation of their need for a guide.

Perhaps she hadn't made herself clear, or perhaps the woman and her friends already knew who or what the unnatural observer was. Deciding that the latter seemed more likely, but not being willing to bank on it, Lyral rose from her chair and sent out unseen ribbons of sense, borrowed from the power of the Balance. Snakelike, they slithered about the room, writhing up walls and through the air, wrapping their vaporous coils around all within as they carried out their search. A moment later, they returned to the druid, slipping within her frame and whispering their answer in her blood. It gave her but a small measure of relief.

Whatever was in the room, it wasn't evil. It also wasn't corporeal. A shade, in all likelihood. She sighed as she wondered what the shopkeeper gotten her into.

"I might be," Lyral answered finally. There was something odd going on, to be sure; but the small band appeared resolute in their need, and Eowyn had suggested that their goal might be related to her own. Alone, either would have merited further inquiry. Together, they demanded it.

"But I'll need to know a few more things first," she continued. "The Shattered Lands are volatile, and they've grown even more so in the past month. Travel within them will be dangerous even in the best of circumstances, and something tells me that your planned excursion isn't exactly the 'best of circumstances.' So, before I risk your lives and mine, I need to know exactly where you're going and why. But first, are you aware that there's a shade in your room and a young girl lurking outside your door?"

Lyral Kelazar

Gyndeene watched as the woman stood and appeared to send out streams of energy. Seemingly satisfied, the woman spoke but still appeared uneasy. Her reply caused Gyn's eyes to twinkle with amusement. A smile played with her lips as she spoke. "Of course, you must have sensed Willow, a poor lost soul who seems unable to leave the living and yet unable to find peace with the dead. It is a bit of a long story, but I am hoping that I can in some way help this spirit find peace. As to the little girl, she is an engaging urchin who seems to have formed an attachment to me and is no threat to us."

As the smile faded from Gyn's face, her eyes hardened. "But you were right the first time. There was definitely an unwanted presence here, but I am uncertain of who or what that presence represented." Shaking off a sense of uneasiness, she began the story about the guild in Rhydin, the fortress called Kamelot, and the Moonblade. Her sadness filled the room as she talked about old friends and old times. A tear slipped from her long lashes, tracing a silver path down her cheek.

With obvious effort, she cleared her throat and continued. "My ward and I were on our way to visit Kamelot when one evening we received a visit from an Elven emissary of Queen Laumari of Sarenlon. He informed us that the Moonblade was no longer at Kamelot and had been stolen by an evil Wizard. He carried a request from the Queen—she wished us to go after and retrieve the stolen sword." She shivered as she recalled the words of the elf. "He said Kamelot would be no more if the sword was not recovered and this would have dire consequences for all. Although his manner implied that he thought little of my ability to reclaim the sword, he was dutiful to his queen."

"This is our reason for needing to venture into the Shattered Lands. We are searching for a great wizard called Darkelden. Since coming to Stormport, I have found little reference to him other that he has a fortress somewhere in the Shattered Lands. It is said he rules the area with an iron fist and it is death to anyone who defies him."

Relieved that her story was told, Gyndeene stood abruptly, crossed the room, and poured three goblets of wine. Handing one to Silver, she offered their guest a goblet and taking the last for herself, she returned to her place next to Silver. With her emotions in check, she studied the woman once again trying to judge how her story had been received. Instinctively, she knew they needed Lyral and in some way this woman was their one hope of retrieving the sword.

"One more thing that you should know. It is possible the blade will not accept me. It is said that these blades hold the souls of all who have carried it and that it is handed down from generation to generation as the blade chooses. I have no claim to this blade nor any blood ties to the elf who bestowed it upon Kamelot. If the blade does not accept me, it will mean my death." She hesitated thinking of what rested upon the woman's answer. "Now, Lyral, having heard our story, will you join in our quest?"

Gyndeene

Lyral remained silent for a moment, taking in the tale in its entirety as she swirled the contents of her goblet about. It was fantastic account, indeed, it strained the bounds of credulity. The druid had heard of Darkelden, to be sure, and she found his growing strength in the Shattered Lands to be a source of concern, but Sarenlon surely had a host of elven warriors and mages at its command. If its very existence stood in peril, why would the queen bypass a well-trained retinue of her finest and choose instead to send a half-elven woman and her young human ward?

The druid took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, watching the wine spin about her goblet, rippling streams of red twirling against the sides. It didn't make sense. Then again, she thought, in a world out of balance, few things did. She didn't like the idea of traveling with a wraith, though. Despite the fact that it appeared benign, it was still a disruption to the Balance, an unnatural creature that didn't belong among the living. And there was something about the urchin girl that didn't ring right to her ear. She frowned slightly as she watched the tiny whirlpool in her cup, feeling equally turned and spun.

On the other hand .... she looked around the room once more, taking mental stock of its items and occupants. Gyndeene, awaiting her response, carried a look a veracity and resourcefulness in her curiously-shaded eyes. The woman she'd introduced as Silver clearly possessed martial as well as maritime skills. And the young man Josh burned with a fierce determination she'd rarely seen in one so young. Their combined demeanors leant an air of credence to the tale, as did the presence of the thistledown cloaks, the elven boots, the strange blade, the assortment of potions, and the unmistakable cooshie. Finally, there was the fact that the Eowyn had vouched for them. She'd have to remember to thank the shopkeeper for that.

Within Lyral's now unmoving hand, the contents of her goblet slowed and then stilled, becoming a crimson mirror in which she saw her decision.

"Yes, she said finally, inclining her goblet towards the trio, "I'll join you." Though she couldn't escape the feeling that there was more to the story than any of them knew, she was compelled to aid them in their task. "In fact," she continued, "I know of someone who might be willing to help us. But the Shattered Lands are no place for children. However attached she is, the girl must stay behind."

Lyral Kelazar

Josh felt the underside of his eyelids grow moist. He knew this was all women's stuff, but the poignant longing in Gyn's voice touched a cord deep within him. To hide his feelings, he stared at the floor in front of his feet.

Gyn's voice was comforting as she went on with the rest of their story, and his gaze returned to the woman sitting inn front of them. He thought of the uppity Elf who had nterrupted their journey to Kamelot and wished he' taught him some manners. He wondered again why the Queen had made this request of Gyn. After all, it only made sense to him that the Elves were in a better position to regain possession of the sword all by themselves. It remained a large question in his mind.

As Gyn finished her the story, Josh chuckled to himself. He feared Gyn would always call Stormpoint Stormport even though he had corrected her many times Her statement about the Moonblade jolted him. He could not stand the thought of losing his friend and mentor.

Josh waited in silence as he waited to the stranger to reply. As she spoke, he clenched his teeth. All he heard was "Yes, I'll join you." He signed deeply—their fate was sealed for better or worse—Josh only hoped she knew what she was getting into and that she knew her business.

Josh Devlin

Ward of Gyndeene

Anticipation was as thick as the silence that followed Gyn's question—"Will you join us?" Tension palpated as it wove itself into the silence. Three pairs of eyes focused on the stranger hoping to probe through flesh and bone and find the answer to that question. Only the cooshee seemed undisturbed by all that was going on in the room.

Would she help them? Gyn's knuckles whitened as she clutched the goblet trying to quell the fear that the woman might not; then, the woman spoke. "Yes, I'll join you." Gyn replayed the answer through her mind, the answer was yes. Hiding the relief she felt, she took a sip of wine, and like the sun breaking through the clouds, a smile filled her face and her eyes sparkled.

"It seems a bit feeble to say thank you, but I can only say from my heart that I'm grateful you have decided to join us."

Gyndeene

Silver simply watched from the corner of the room, only a few feet behind Gyndeene. She kept her fingers on the dagger at her side at all times, knowing this was too small a room for her sword, but not feeling safe enough to abandon the caution of keeping herself ready. More and more strangers were coming out of the woodwork, so to speak, and she was not ready to trust as easily as Gyn. Perhaps that was one of the differences between them, but even with such, Silver could still take comfort in the fact she could still understand every body movement Gyndeene made, as if they were her own.

This was made clear as the muscles of Gyndeenes back slightly tensed and her eyes hardened when she began to speak of an unwanted presence. Silver was more of a woman to deduce feelings from what she saw and signs, where as she could always trust Gyndeene to feel the unseen. It had made for a dynamic pair in the past, and she was happy to be at Gyndeene's side once again.

Gyndeene began to delve into explinations of the Moonblade and how it came to be. "...I have no claim to this blade nor any blood ties to the elf who bestowed it upon Kamelot..." she continued. Silver's own eyes began to cloud as she recalled her days spent in Kamelot's walls and the elf who had presented Gyndeene with the Moonblade. It had been years ago, in what seemed another life. Silver's lips twitched towards a frown, drawing tight across her face. Kamelot was as if a dream, full of sunshine and moonlight where all races lived in harmony - Gyndeene had seen that her rules of unity were followed. Until that day... the silence of the halls echoed in her head.

Lyral accepted the invitation to be the guide, with one stipulation, that the child stay behind. She had also said something of knowing another person to help. Silver stepped forward, her footfall making a gentle creak on the floor. She looked to Gyndeene with a slightly raised eyebrow, before scanning the inhabitants of the room and resting on Lyral.

"We started out with a personal journey, and I am growing uneasy with how great our number is becoming. It will be that much harder to make it through when we are responsible for so many people." She frowned. "I do not know if I am comfortable to put so many lives at risk for a quest that is simply a Kamelotian's quest."

Silver

Silence once again rippled through the room. Gyn looked at Josh who was in turn staring at Silver. Her eyes returned to her friend. What did her statement mean?

" . . . started out as a personal journey . . . I'm uneasy . . . much harder . . . so many lives at risk . . . simply a Kamelotian's quest. Was Silver regretting her decision to joint this quest. Was she missing her ship, the deck beneath her feet, her crew, or was this something else. Something more elusive.

Gyn stood, her cramped muscles protesting. Moving to her friend's side, she slid a slender arm around Sil's waist as she tried to fathom what her friend was really saying. Had Silver changed? Sil was always ready for adventure, but had she shed this desire along with her armor. Gyn was baffled. She too was concerned for any who joined them would be in grave danger. She had accepted this responsibility. She knew they could not reclaim the sword without others' help.

"Sil, what is it? Have you changed your mind? I'd understand if you desire to return to your ship. You know we can't do this alone for we are strangers in a strange land. Although this began as a personal quest, I believe its grown beyond that."

Her speech slowed and her voice was but a hoarse whisper. "Somehow this has gone beyond us. Perhaps Darkelden wished to lure the Elves of Sarenalon here to do battle and that is why he stole the Moonblade." She shook her head in disbelief as she continued. "Darkelden is now forming his army starting with his alliance with the Frey-ri. He means to spread his evil until it covers this land and all its people."

Gyn's gaze was bleak as she looked at Lyral. "It goes way beyond the Blade—that was only the beginning. I'm afraid it has become a battle for all who fear for their souls."

Gyndeene

Lyral carefully observed the interplay between the two women. Their words and gestures testified that their relationship was a close one with a long history. A person possessed of sufficient tact and propriety would have left the two to come to a conclusion on their own. Lyral wasn't such a person.

"Gyndeene is right," she said simply.

Raised in the grove of her parents, the druid had had little occasion to practice the finer points of courtesy; and when she did practice them, she found she had little patience. Animals, as she saw it, were far easier to comprehend than people, and far less likely to disappoint. She held back a self-chastising sigh at this point, realizing that if she was going to travel with this group, she was going to have to employ whatever small amount of tact she'd been able to develop. Taking a calming a breath, she continued in a polite, yet clear tone.

"Darkelden threatens far more than your Kamelot, or even Sardelon. The Shattered Lands are powder keg, and he's sitting on the brim with a torch. When the explosion comes, the shrapnel will blaze through the region and beyond. There are a lot of people who don't want to see that happen, and you're gonna need every scrap of help you can get. Trust me, you won't be disappointed in the skills my friend will bring to the cause."

Lyral Kelazar

Silver nodded and leaned against Gyndeene for a quick moment of reassurance. She slid her fingers from the hilt of her dagger to loosely cross her arms. "I am all for an adventure. I'm just wary of all these strangers that keep joining the quest." Silently, she pondered what would their reactions be when threatened? Until the first incident, she would not know, and would not trust anyone enough to presume they could hold their own for the good of the group.

Cynical, maybe but she was nervous for the well being of her close friends, Gyndeene and Josh. No one still knew if Gyn was the chosen one and what would happen after they found the blade. She also did not want it on anyone's conscious if someone got badly hurt or worse along the journey. Silver was friendly, but only so far, and on this mission she'd be especially looking after one person, and that woman was standing at her side.

The last words of Gyndeene grabbed her attention and she frowned again. This indeed was shaping up to be a war of sorts which had her even more on edge. That lifestyle was left behind and she was not eager to be in a situation of "donning armor" and delving back into battles. Silver shook her head. "I understand we need certain people. I trust in Gyndeene as well as Eowyn and those she has chosen for us."

She looked to Lyral as the woman began to speak. "Darkelden threatens far more than your Kamelot, or even Sardelon. The Shattered Lands are powder keg, and he's sitting on the brim with a torch. When the explosion comes, the shrapnel will blaze through the region and beyond. There are a lot of people who don't want to see that happen, and you're gonna need every scrap of help you can get. Trust me, you won't be disappointed in the skills my friend will bring to the cause."

Silver eyed the woman again and nodded. "I never said I would be disappointed, just wary of strangers on a mission of this importance. Please dont take offence." Retired knight, maybe, the old ways still lied within her. If she had not trained along side them, or been in ugly situations, she could not fathom the depth of skill or the reactions of anyone. She was unused to being in a situation of this magnitude unknowing the skills of those around her.

She looked back to the room and marvled over the gathered patrons. Such an odd mix but as she carefully began to think of each person, she realized the qualities each possessed and Eowyn's reasonining for choosing certain people. "Where do we meet your friend? Are we to wait here or start out soon?"

Silver

Within the darkened hallway outside the room, Kit's heart pounded beneath her ribs beating out a loud and nervous rhythm and causing her ears to drum. She feared that the woman with the strange, black markings had meant to harm Gyndeene and her friends, but she didn't know what to do. Too small and unskilled to pose any threat to the woman, she dug through her pockets, hoping to find something of use. She had her caltrops ... not much use ... a pair of ear blades ... no help ... a few lock picks ... nothing. She had nothing she could use. She had nothing to help Gyndeene and the others. Frustrated and frightened, she wanted to scream.

Actually, she could scream. A loud, unexpected scream would draw any number of people in the common room up the stairs, blades in hand. They'd see the broken door, and they could face the stranger. It was the only thing she could think of. Her heart sped faster as she drew a deep breath, preparing to release the most blood-curdling cry she could muster, and then she heard those within the room began to speak.

"Gyndeene? Gyndeene of Aquilar? I'm told you're setting out on an expedition. I'm also told you're in need of a guide. What I'm not told, however, is anything specific. I think Eowyn wanted to leave that to you. This is from her, by the way. Your purchases from her shop."

Kit slumped against the wall and let the breath that burned her lungs she had taken slide from her lips in a slow sigh of relief. The woman wasn't an enemy. She'd been sent by Eowyn. The elven shoppekeeper was known to the guild. Truth be told, there weren't many people within the city who weren't known to the guild in some way, and close friends of the High Justice merited extra attention. As Kit recalled, the guild hadn't been able to discover much about the woman aside from fact that she was best avoided, but the young thief had never heard anything to suggest that the shoppekeeper was inclined towards evil. It therefore seemed likely that the blond woman, probably Lyral Kelazar mentioned in Eowyn's letter, meant Gyndeene's party no harm. The question remained, however, as to whether she would help.

Curiosity coursing fire like through her young frame, Kit ventured a step closer to the door and listened to the conversation within. She wasn't surprised when Lyral mentioned her to Gyndeene--the woman had, after all, seen her standing outside the door and peering within the room--but she was glad that Gyndeene found her to be of no great concern. "An engaging urchin," she had said. Kit smiled. She liked the way it sounded, even if she wasn't entirely certain what "engaging" meant. Perhaps it meant that Gyndeene would let her join the group when they set forth from the city.

Excitement rose within her, intertwining itself with her curiosity. Together, the two carried the young thief away. She was going to be able to help, to do something more than serve as lookout, case for information, or offer a well-timed distraction. She was going on an adventure ... a real adventure ... it was too much to hope for ... too much to believe. And then, she heard the words.

"The Shattered Lands are no place for children. However attached she is, the girl must stay behind."

Kit's face fell, twisted into a hardset frown. What did she mean, "the girl must stay behind"? Who was she to decide? It was Gyndeene's quest. She was the leader. She should be the one to say who stays and who goes. And what did this "Lyral" know anyway? Her hands hung by her sides in tight, white-knuckled fists. She'd done too much work to be stopped now, and she wanted it far too much, and they might actually need her. She was pretty good with locks now, and she was well-versed enough in cant to be able to find folks with information in any town they might enter.

She heard the words echo in her head. "The girl must stay behind."

No. She shook her head. No, she wouldn't stay behind. She just had to figure out how to tag along without being seen, at least until they'd gotten too far to send her back. How though? Her mind stewed, and though the conversation inside continued, she was no longer aware of it.

How, how, how?

She wasn't bad at hiding, but she wasn't yet good enough to stay hidden and follow for that long. If she were a better tracker, she could follow behind and catch up to them once they were far enough along, but her tracking skills were limited to finding things within the city. The wilderness was far beyond her reach.

How? She nearly grunted in frustration, but instead slumped against the wall once more and stared down at her feet. At least, that's what she planned to do. What she did, however, was to slump against the wall and stare down at where her feet should have been. Nothing was there. Her head spun in confusion. What on earth? She raised her hands from her side and brought them level to her face. They too were gone. She started to panic, and then she remembered. Galyn. Galyn had given her the ring and told her she'd have to figure out its use. Apparently, she just had.

With an unseen smile, she stepped into a lighter portion of the hallway. Her smile broadened when she found that she cast no shadow. Genius! Galyn was a genius! She didn't care what Jaryssa said. Galyn had given her a way to follow! On cat feet she crept close to the open door and peered within.

"The girl must stay behind." She smirked as she let the words ring within her ears once more. Stay behind? She didn't think so.

Kit

"Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour."

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"The Children's Hour"

"Powder keg ready to explode…. a battle for souls." The words resounded around the room like a church bell gone wild. Josh's head ached. This was great, just great. What had the Elves of Sarenalon gotten Gynne into and why her. They had been sent on a wild goose chase to find a sword, and now they were suppose to try and save souls…it was way beyond him. Josh frowned. They were caught in a spider's web of intrigue with no way out—they had no choice but to fight.

Silver's words broke into Josh's thoughts. His frown turned into a hesitant smile—good the Sea Captain was with them. He approved. That one could certainly fight her way out of a tight corner. If not, she would not be a sea captain. Josh stood in a single motion and moved to stand beside her. As if on cue, the large cat stirred and moved silently, taking his place beside Josh.

It was time for action. Silver was right. But, first things first. All had to lay their cards on the table. They needed to take a good look at their strengths and weakness. They also needed to know more about their new guide and her so-called friends. He stared shrewdly at the woman still seated wishing he could peel away the sections of her brain and get the answers he wanted. He hated to be blunt about it, knowing Gynne would not approve, but the time for niceties was long past. He had no doubt that the woman seated in front of them was much more than she appeared; he also felt she would be a dangerous opponent.

This was not the time to be shy; they were in this up to their eyeballs and time for straight talk. Dang those Elves anyway. Were they such ninnies that they could not take on this Darkelden themselves. Straightening his shoulders, he dove in hoping that the water was deep, very deep.

"Well, Ladies, tis time to make plans. After all, we can't go f'ward til we have a plan of action. It's time ta put ALL cards on the table. So, Mistress Lyral Kalazar, ye know bout us, but we know little of ye. Putting it bluntly, ye need ta lay ye cards on the table."

Josh Devlin

Ward of Gyndeene

Lyral listened with keen ears and sharp eyes as Silver gave further voice to her concerns, moving only to incline her head in understanding as the captain asked her not to take offense. She understood more of the woman now, she thought, her words and expressions serving to complete the picture Eowyn had given her. The seafarer was a woman not of hastened judgment, but of reasoned action. She was also, naturally, accustomed to the role of command, and while she might willingly defer to the needs and aims of her friends, strangers seemingly required some measure of proof. It was a sentiment the druid well understood, but one to which she could only partially acquiesce at present as she was disinclined to draw any more attention to their potential expedition than necessary. The captain's final questions were thus well-received by Lyral's ears.

"Where do we meet your friend? Are we to wait here or start out soon?"

The druid opened her mouth to answer, but was cut short as the young man Josh spoke his first words.

"Well, Ladies, tis time to make plans. After all, we can't go f'ward til we have a plan of action. It's time ta put ALL cards on the table. So, Mistress Lyral Kalazar, ye know bout us, but we know little of ye. Putting it bluntly, ye need ta lay ye cards on the table."

A twinkle of a smile rose in the druid's eyes, partly because she was heartened to see that they was taking more care than she had originally feared, but more owing to the fact that she finally saw what she'd been looking for. With Gyndeene's explanation, the captain's demeanor, and the young man's demand, she saw at last the triptych balance that wove through the trio. Together, three in one, they were head, hand, and heart. She nodded to herself slightly in recognition of fact, then drew a long breath to answer their questions, looking first to Silver.

"Judging from what I can see of your supplies, there are only a few more provisions to be obtained. I've little in the way of coin, so I'd need about ..." she paused, her expression indicating a quick mental calculation, " ... 200 gold from you to round out our supplies. A day to make arrangements would be optimal, but we could leave just before dawn this morning if you prefer. As for my friend, I'll contact her when I leave and arrange for her to meet us at the edge of the Tanglewood as we set out."

"Now, young master Josh," she continued, turning to the fiery young man, "let me lay forth my cards that you might better judge our hand." She took a step closer to the lad and fixed his eyes with her own. "I'm a druid, a servant of the Balance, born and raised in the wild as one of its own. You'll want to keep to the cover of the fae forest as long as you can on this journey, and I can take you deeper into it than all but a few. I'm also familiar with the Shattered Lands, having crossed their breadth twice in the past two fortnights. I'm willing to help you because I believe that your quest serves the Balance. My friend is skilled in the arts of magic and battle, and is a tracker of uncanny ability. I too like to know the measure of my companions on a quest of this nature," she cast a quick look of pointed understanding at Silver, then went on, "and since I've insufficient time to know yours, and you yourselves admit both the danger of the journey and the fact that the blade may not accept Gyndeene, I too want the strengths of someone I know and trust at my side."

"Of course," she added, with a tone of reasoned yet eerie detachment, "you've only my word for any of this. Well, my word and Eowyn's, as I myself never told you my name, which is KEH-la-zar," she added, correcting the young man's pronunciation. "So you've only the word of two strangers. I might be lying. Eowyn might be mistaken. I might not be Lyral Kelazar at all. I might be an agent of Darkelden, sent to learn your purpose and prowess. I might even be one of his demonic fae, sent to lure you into the heart of the Tanglewood and steal both breath and soul. You'll have to decide for yourself if you trust me. Either way, let me give you this advice. If you think that I am, in fact, in league with your enemy, then you'd best try to kill me now. But if you trust me, then we need make ready to leave. Tell no one, not even in the innkeeper, of your departure. Leave whatever coin you owe him and slip quietly away."

Broadening her gaze to include the others, she gave them the span of several heartbeats to consider her "cards," then asked, "So, what is it to be?"

Lyral Kelazar

Lost within the cobwebbed strands of thought and sense that composed it, the sleeper watched and listened while new faces were seen and new stories were told. It hadn't been surprised by the woman named Lyral, having grown somewhat accustomed to the idea of half-breeds now. But the tendrils of magic she'd sent streaming from her fingers had sparked a blinding mix of rage and revulsion from the wraith and it drew in upon itself, pulling the tattered fragments of its consciousness into an ill-spun ball of anger and distrust. It had been in the presence of casters, it knew, since it had first awoken in the town of Stormpoint, but none had tried to spread their webs of treachery across its insubstantial form. This one was different, and the sleeper flew to avoid the unholy touch of her spell. The snakelike wisps of magic, having a fully conscious mind to direct them, were faster than the wraith, however, and they soon wrapped around it, pulling apart its veil of substance and sliding within.

Fury roiled within the unclaimed pall as the coils of magic wove throughout it, but there was no pain, no feeling, only a sense of incorporeal violation and dissolution. It almost caused the wraith to vanish, to sleep once more beyond the thin pale of mortality. Then, in the final few grains of sand, a sound rose within what remained of the sleeper's mind ... a distant and dangerous sound ... and it called to the wraith from the edges of awareness, a seductive song of power and promise.

Driven by an unnamed impulse, the specter reached towards it, turning all of its unraveling soul towards the beckoning call. Images formed as it drew closer ... bleary images of distorted memory. The wraith yearned to reach them, to bring them into some semblance of clarity, but they stayed ever out of the sleeper's grasp, dancing like will-o-wisps in the fog of the wraith's understanding.

Then, they were gone ... vanished ... recalled along with the sound to some place beyond the sleeper's awareness.

Dizzy and exhausted, the wraith sank to the floor, expending every fibrous strand of ethereality it possessed to remain sentient. The room and its occupants seemed distant and blurred, as if viewed through a glass, but sleeper took comfort in the fact that they could still be seen and heard. With wearied and deadened senses, the wraith thus took in what could of their converse.

It learned, for the first time, that Gyndeene's charge had been given by the elves, and it stirred in a pool of sickly vapor. Elves. Elves and their fey kin. Elves and the half-breeds they had spawned. Elves and the evil they fostered. Had they covered the whole world with their ilk while the wraith slept? The sleeper churned, troubled by the thought and by the fact that it had bound itself to one of their blood. Yet, the world had changed, and perhaps the elves had too. The shopkeeper had shown it tolerance, giving it the blade, and Gyndeene had shown it kindness, giving it a place and a name. And Gyndeene had spoken of a place called Sarenalon and a ruler named Laumari. The only elven kingdom known to the sleeper was Elindessylar and it was ruled by the house of Panandave. Perhaps the elves had changed. Perhaps they were no longer the creatures the wraith had known.

'Perhaps they never were,' an unseen voice whispered, chilling the sleeper to its vaporous core as it cast about fragments of sense, searching for the speaker. It found no one, and it sensed no one other than Gyndeene and her companions.

Some tension seemed to have developed between them while the wraith had pondered the possibility of change, and the woman named Lyral had stepped closer to Josh, her eyes boring into him as she spoke.

I'm a druid, a servant of the Balance, born and raised in the wild as one of its own. . . . Of course, you've only my word for any of this. . . . I might be lying. . . . I might be an agent of Darkelden, sent to learn your purpose and prowess. I might even be one of his demonic fae, sent to lure you into the heart of the Tanglewood and steal both breath and soul."

The woman's voice was eerily detached as she spoke, spurring the wraith to concern. It seemed unlikely that an enemy would reveal herself, but it seemed equally unlikely that a shadowed tangle of thought and memory and would following a half-elf on a quest through a fey forest to retrieve an elven blade. Rising, the wraith, pulled itself forward to the point where it was hovering between the druid and the boy, uncertain what it would, or even could, do, should either decide to act. Once again, a thin line of gold glimmered in the air between them, then faded in the blink of an eye. The wraith wavered, sensing that it was nearly spent, but it held doggedly on to the slivers of consciousness that remained, determined to see through what it had started.

Wraithshade

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague.
Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"

Edgar Allan Poe
"The Premature Burial" (1850)

Warmth surged through Gyn. It was just like old times with Silver by her side. Her attention returned to Lyral in time to catch a fleeting smile. Good, she had a sense of humor. Lyral's words fell on receptive ears. Indeed, interesting and telling, but she was playing her cards close to her chest, and Gyn wondered what cards she still held.

Taking Laumari's advice, "use your intuition . . . trust your instincts and chose wisely." Gyn had instinctively known this woman to be true. She would make a good ally. A slender eyebrow rose as Lyral continued. " . . . might be an agent of Darkelden . . . or one of his deamon fey . . ." Her interest peaked as the woman spoke of her friend. Perhaps the Elven spell book would be of some use after all. "So what is it to be?"

They needed a guide and this woman had after all been sent by Eowyn, and though she had her own agenda, Gyn felt she would be true to her word. She walked to the trunk and withdrew the Deamon's Bane. Holding it in front of her, she turned. "Had you been fey-ri, this blade would have cast a reddish glow about the room. I would have known the moment you stepped into the inn that you were not who you appeared to be. Further, you were sent by Eowyn and she is one who is not fooled easily." Taking her pack from the floor, she pulled a bulky leather pouch from its interior. "We must depart with all speed. I'm sure that Darkelden is well aware of us and to tarry further gives him opportunity to thwart us."

Handing the pouch to Lyral—"This should cover any expenses you incur. If not, let me know." Turning on her heels, turquoise eyes rested on her ward. "First things first. Josh pleassseee get that door repaired. Then, check on the horses and make sure all is in readiness. Pay the hostler but tell him little." Her eyes then went to her friend. "Sil, what about you--does this give you enough time?"

Gyndeene

Silver patiently listened to the discussions around the room. She could not help but allow a small lopsided grin to cross her face at Josh's words to Lyral. The grin slowly faded as Lyral began to talk and her voice took on an eerie quality. Yes, it was true, we did not know if she was true to her word or a guide working for the other side. However, they really had no choice and despite the uneasiness Eowyn gave everyone, Silver trusted her to a certain extent. The Elven woman and her had been through a few interesting adventures together.

Shaking her head she refocused on the room and eyed Gyndeene. "This should cover any expenses you incur. If not, let me know." Gyndeene spoke as she handed Lyral a pouch. Silver made a mental note of her own financial situation and what to bring along as extra or needed collateral. "Sil, what about you--does this give you enough time?"

Silver nodded. "Yes. Plenty. I just have to run back down to the docks." She looked around the room. "I will saddle up Argonae as well for the journey. There a few extra horses in his stable. Do we need a few more mounts?"

Silver

Josh felt his temperature rising. He stared back into the woman's eyes, having no idea what she was talking about, but he knew this was NOT a plan. More likely, she would lead them into the jaws of hell. His lips formed a straight, disapproving line. Balance—what the devil did that mean! They were here to retrieve a sword—now they were talking about saving souls, doing battle, and now they were suppose to look for balance. They were going to do ALL this without a plan. Great. Just GREAT!!

His anger dissipated quickly as he felt a blast of cold air blanket him. He glanced around the room wildly. What the blazes was going on here. Josh wiped his brow, trying to clear his thoughts. The cold stayed. Was this a trick of some kind? He glanced at the stranger suspiciously. Well, he would show her. A soft buzz filled his head followed by a persistent growl. He glanced down at the cooshee ready to cuff him between the ears. He did not have time for nonsense. The cooshee looked back with reproach. Deep in the recesses of Josh's mind, a thought took form—slowly the thought rose to his subconscious. "It's just a ghost you silly boy."

Josh struggled to speak, but only a squeak came out. The situation was definitely out of control—an evil wizard, an army of demons, a woman raised in the wild, ghosts, and now, a dog who put thoughts in his mind. What next? Well, he was going to have his say.

"'old ya `orses. Wha' kinda plan's that—huh—trudging through ah, ah, ah a forest full, full, ah, ah full of demons, an then find this wizard—huh—`re we ta jist sneek in ta his fort while `is backs turned, swipe the sword an—an—an jist waltz away." His eyes went from one woman to the next. "'ave ye lost ye senses? That's nay a plan—jist pure balderdash." His anger spent, he looked again at each woman expectantly. "A plan, Ladies, a PLAN."

Josh Devlin

Ward of Gyndeene

The druid's eyes narrowed as she caught glimpse of the strange line of gold that glimmered between her and the boy, but before she could tell what it was, it was gone. Her brow arched involuntarily. The ghost? Or something more sinister?"

Had you been fey-ri," she heard Gyndeene, now holding a crimson-hilted sword, say, "this blade would have cast a reddish glow about the room. I would have known the moment you stepped into the inn that you were not who you appeared to be. Further, you were sent by Eowyn and she is one who is not fooled easily."

Lyral nodded wordlessly as she accepted the pouch Gyndeene offered, still intrigued by the shimmer of gold. The cooshee appeared to have sensed the gleam as well, having padded up to stand beside the lad with an insistent stare. Curiosity getting the better of her, the druid sent an unseen stream of seeking energy towards the area that had shone. It lit up briefly in a pale, sickly hue, signifying the presence of unlife, but not of evil.

"Well," she started, leaning on a hunch, "looks like you've got a protector, Josh. Seems that Gyndeene isn't the only one the shade has attached itself to. As for a PLAN," she emphasized the word as he had, hoping he'd take the hint, then continued with a clipped tone, "I was told only that you needed a guide through the region. The lack of plan casts a rather different light on the matter."

She took a deep breath when she finished and exhaled it loudly through her nose. After that, she fell silent, and took a few steps about the room, apparently considering the issue.

"I don't know your strengths or talents," she began with measured timbre, "and I certainly don't know anything more than what you've told me about this Moonblade. But I do know that Darkelden's actions in the Shattered Lands haven't earned him many friends, and I know that there's a cadre of resistance in the former barony of Kiltanor. They've not yet managed to be much more than a nuisance, but their last move against him showed a fair amount of ingenuity and some growth in their numbers. If we can find them, and if we can get them to trust us," she cast a leaden glance at Josh, "they may have some information that can aid us." She shrugged and shook her head. "It's the best I have to offer, other than suggesting we make for Sarenalon and ask the queen for an army," she intoned wryly.

"But it's your battle," she acknowledged, her eyes meeting Gyndeene's. "You know your strengths and your weaknesses, and you'll have to decide. I just need to know when you want to leave, tomorrow morning, or the next. I wouldn't bother with horses though," she added as an afterthought, turning her head towards Silver, "I doubt you'd find one willing to enter the Tanglewood. Plus, they'll make us a tempting target in the Shattered Lands. It'll be slower going, but we're safer on foot, at least to start out."

Lyral Kelazar

Laughter rang throughout the room. Gyn's eyes twinkled. "Well put, Lyral, well put." Beet red from ear to ear, Josh stared at the floor, his only wish to escape from his misery. The cooshee tried to comfort him, sending him a thought. 'Though a bit gruff, boy, your point was valid.'

Gyn's voice rippled with concern as she addressed her young ward. "I'm the culprit, Josh, for it is my duty to have a plan." She paused, collecting her thoughts, "You are wise beyond your years, Josh, for only a fool would go forth into battle without a plan."

Crossing the room, she withdraw her notebook from her pack. Scanning the pages quickly, she continued. "Since being in Stormpoint, I've learned little of Darkelden. Based on the shoppekeeper's advice, I planned to avoid the Tangled Forest altogether, skirting its eastern edge, seeking to proceed quickly to Ogrevankia. There, I would have attempted to make contact with Kitanor, leader of the resistance, and from that point, I would have taken it a day at a time."

Gripping the notebook tightly to her chest, she spoke to Lyral. "I apologize if it seems we have placed our burdens on your shoulders, but, I guess, to a degree we have. You are the key that will open the door to Darkelden. Thought you've no interest in retrieving the Moonblade, our goals seem to be the same—the downfall of Darkelden."

Gyndeene returned to stand by her friends. "I fear you doubt our abilities. For many years, I was the commander of a guild that numbered 100. Many battles were fought both with my tongue and my sword. My life has been devoted to fighting evil. I have lived by my sword and wits for a very long time."

A long pause, a decision reached, Gyn closed her eyes and stroked the dragon scale talisman about her neck. Wispy strands of moonbeams shimmered in the air, and as the moonbeams coalesced, the image of a dragon appeared. Just as quickly, the image broke apart and dispersed into the air. Weariness reached out its tendrils and tempted Gyn to succumb, for the effects of the magick had drained her. Slowly her eyes opened—her voice but a whisper. "If our situation is dire, the MoonDragon will intervene. Her magick is strong."

Leaning heavily on her friend, Gyn continued. "Josh's skills came from the streets that were his home. He learned well and quickly for his survival depended upon it. A misstep changed his life—he attempted to pick the pocket of a sea captain well in his cups. The captain took one look at the scrawny boy and his heart softened. Being a practical man and since he had recently lost his cabin boy, he took Josh under his wing. There, Josh learned the meaning of hard work and earned the respect of the captain and his crew. With that, I'll let Silver can speak for herself."

Totally spent, Gyn's determination battled against the hungry flames of fatigue. "These, Lyral, are but words—now you must judge if we are who we say we are. Why the Elven armies of Sarenalon were not sent forth, I know not. Maybe it is not for me to question. I have fought long and hard for the good of the human race, now, perhaps, the time has come for me to do the same for Elven kind."

Gyndeene of Aquilar

Lyral's eyes blinked shut and she shook her head slowly from side to side as Gyndeene's voice trailed off.

"You may have guessed from our shared features that I'm not adverse to helping the Elves, but I think you misunderstand me. I admit I'm perplexed as to why Sarenalon hasn't chosen to send some of its number against the mage, but I'm equally baffled as to why no one from Stormpoint has acted. I can think of two, possibly as many as five, individuals within the city who could easily accomplish his downfall, yet they seem interested only in watching."

She shook her head again, quickly this time, trying to wipe from her mind the puzzle her last statement always created.

"Regardless," she sighed, her tone suggesting that she'd not been entirely successful, "I accept that you've been charged, and that someone must believe you capable of the task. I've no need to hear Silver's account of herself," she looked toward the captain as she spoke. "Eowyn has vouched for her and her skills, and that's enough. You might be interested to know," she continued, drawing out her words in thoughtfulness as her eyes returned to Gyndeene, "that she's also vouched for your character. Of Josh," the druid cast a sidelong glance at the boy, "I fear she's said nothing, but I accept your estimation of his ability. I even accept the shade, though honestly, I dislike its presence."

"What I mean," she paused to correct herself, drew a deep breath, then continued with a slower pace and calmer voice. "What I meant, rather, in confessing ignorance of your strengths and weaknesses, is that you're in a far better position than I to determine a course of action. But," she continued, leaning heavily on the word, "if you wish for me to plot our course, I'd make for the Barony of Kiltanor, search for those resisting our foe, learn what we can of his movements from them, and assess our options."

Falling momentarily silent, the druid pursed her lips as her gaze fell to the pendant Gyndeene wore around her neck. When she spoke again, it was with carefully chosen words. "Whatever course you choose to take, let me say this though. The magic of your MoonDragon may be strong, but it seems to take a heavy toll on your strength. I wouldn't rely upon it, save, as you say, in a dire situation. If you're the only one who can potentially wield the blade, you must save your strength to do so."

"But again," she spread her hands before her, "it falls to you to decide. If we are to leave at first light though, I need to know now so that I can make arrangements."

Lyral Kelazar

Gyndeene could sense the frustration or was it anger in Lyral's voice. She could understand both emotion, but she knew people all to well. Most were not willing to act until trouble was knocking down their door. To them, the shattered lands were far, far away, and Darkelden's name was but a whisper on the wind.

But, right now, there was a difference in opinion between her and the guide. How to best approach this delicate issue was trying for Gyndeene for she knew Lyral would not be happy with her decision. er eyes flashed a warning and her lips held a tight smile as she began. "We are in agreement that Kitanor and his assistance is crucial to our very success again Darkelden; however, I will not leave Stormpoint without our horses. They go with us. I don't care which route we take to get to the Shattered Lands or how long it may take us. Their value to us certainly outweighs any situation which we may encounter because of their presence. You may be more comfortable on foot, but we are not."

She frowned thoughtfully. "I am not saying that we are adverse to traveling by foot, but the horses still go with. In any battle I have fought, the Wulf has always been by my side and has always had my back. We'll be happy to follow any precautions to make the horses less conspicuous, but make no mistake, they go."

Sighing deeply, Gyn turned to Josh. "Now, my young friend, will you please get the door repaired and see to the horses. Make sure they are ready to go before the light of dawn."

Turning back to Lyral, a genuine smile touched her lips. "We will be ready to leave before dawn and will try our best to be as invisible as the shade you have misgivings about. Until then, may the gods be with you!"

Gyndeene of Aquilar

Lyral listened patiently as Gyndeene extolled the virtues of her horse. She even held her tongue in spite of the woman's glare, remembering what the shoppekeeper had told her. Why were people always so difficult?

When Gyndeene was finished, the druid simply sighed and shook her head in a manner of resigned indifference.

"As I said, it's your decision. If your horses will follow you into the Tanglewood; if they can find sufficient footing among the weave of roots, vines, and mires; and if you don't mind running the risk of added attacks in the Shattered Lands, bring them. Either way, when you leave, follow the main street of Merchants' row out through the city gates, then head straight west for three miles. That'll bring you to the edge of the Tanglewood. There's a small ring of standing stones about thirty paces within the tree line. I'll meet you there before first light."

Giving a quick nod, she added, "Quel esta. Tenna' san'," by way of farewell, then slipped quietly away. There was much to do in the hours remaining to her.

Lyral's friend had never been one to keep regular hours, and thus the task of finding her within the city might prove more time consuming than she had led Gyndeene and her companions to believe. Should it become necessary, she could always locate her through a spell, but the druid preferred to keep such uses to a minimum at present, hoping to keep the efforts of the newly-formed group well-hidden from view. She thus headed for her friend's home, her most probable location, and decided that if she wasn't there, she'd likely be able to learn her whereabouts from someone on the grounds.

It was near pitch as she wound her way through the port city's streets, but the druid was accustomed to the darkness of the wood and had the added benefit of half-elven sight. Still, she didn't like what she saw, finding the stone buildings that rose to either side of her to be enclosing in a way the forest never was. The trees, sculpted by the hand of nature, had life. The stone walls, carved by the hand of men, had none. She sighed and stretched her neck to one side, cracking a knot of muscle and bone that she'd been carrying since Eowyn had called her to the city that afternoon.

She'd long ago come to the realization that Eowyn never gave straight answers, and so she'd accepted the request to meet with Gyndeene's group without bothering to ask much more than where they were and what they wanted. But now that she knew their task, she wished she'd been a bit more inquisitive, and she toyed with the idea of detouring to the Curiosity Shoppe. She knew, however, that it would be a fruitless effort. The shoppekeeper had told her what she deemed sufficient and she would share no more. That was her nature. That was her way.

The night grew darker still as Lyral reached the end of the merchants' district, leaving behind the occasional light that flickered from candles left to burn on the sills of inn windows, but the druid didn't slow as she padded silently past the church and continued on into the darkness behind it. Some ten minutes later, she stopped at the wooded border of a sizeable estate, then blended into trees as one of their own. Beyond the ring of trees, several lights dotted the windows of a large manor house. Several more lights moved about the grounds, keeping watch.

From experience, Lyral knew that not everyone or everything that kept watch within carried a torch. To stride beyond her current border would therefore be to risk detection. She had no great fear of this, as her face was known and welcome to those within, but again, she wished to keep the matter shielded from all but those who needed to know. Thus, calling on her bond with earth and air, the druid's shape rippled and curved in upon itself, reforming and reshaping her frame so that it was not a woman who left the cover of the trees, but a dark-feathered owl, soaring on silent wings above the grounds.

The grounds were large, but her new eyes were keen, and she soon spotted a tall, lean figure alone on the archery range. Dipping her wings, the druid fell quickly towards the ground before the figure, then swept up to allow a slow descent and a silent landing on a pair of more "human" feet.

Apparently accustomed to such sights, the figure lowered her bow and turned casually towards the druid, waiting for her transformation to end. When it did, the druid spoke.

"Sorry for the stealth," she began, but I wanted as little notice as possible."

She knew that they weren't alone, that there were rangers posted just outside the shadows cast by the range torches, but she also knew that they were stayed by her friend's hand and that neither they nor any other would be able to hear their conversation.

"I got a message from Eowyn today," she paused, letting the import of the statement speak for itself. "She asked me to serve as a guide for a small party. She told me nothing else, of course, but you know her wonts better than I. At anyrate, this group needs a guide through the Tanglewood and the Shattered Lands. They've been charged by Sarenalon to retrieve a blade from a certain mage we both know." Her eyes conveyed a pointed expression, and when she saw that expression mirrored in the eyes of her friend, she continued.

"It's a peculiar party ... a half-elf, apparently skilled with blade and wit ... a human sea captain, who has Eowyn's vouch ... and a human lad, the half-elf's ward. There's also a cooshee, which lends them some credence, and some form of shade, which I could frankly do without."

Her sentiment and resulting grimace were well-known to her friend, who gave a twisted smile and a small nod as a measure of understanding.

"I've agreed to guide them. We're leaving just before first light. I know it's not much time to consider, or prepare, but this group could be the edge we've been waiting for. Plus, I'd feel much better about the undertaking knowing that you were at my back. What do you say? Care to tread the path once more?"

Lyral Kelazar

Darkness had once again veiled the nighttime sky. Now was the time of the beasts that wandered the regions of Stormpoint. Beasts of all kind, not only those of the physical but of the metaphysical as well. Charcoal hues hung on the horizon and taunted her with their promises both spoken and unspoken. This was the time 'this' beast revered as only one of her kind could. The myriad of fragrances that hung in the air from the remains of the day, the lusty redolence that beckoned her. Since her encounter that bestowed her 'gift' so many years ago, the mantle of the gloaming held new found meaning, opportunity and excitement. The latter two were her favorite. Each night a renewed thirst enveloped her but it now was satiated more easily than before.

The road in which Chelsea had taken since her departure from her 'family' led many places. Now she found herself back with the only person who truly knows her. He had taken a different path as well, now more akin to her than either of them cared to discuss. Night dwellers they were, but her prison was more escapable than his. Chelsea enjoyed her evening strolls through the estate grounds, more often than not she took great pleasure from the evenings' 'events'. However, solitude was best during a thirsty nocturnal roam. Most would find her habits a bit too insipid, but to her, it was neither here nor there. Her gift had proved to be profitable in the past, repugnant on most occasions, yes, but she saw herself as a bit of a vigilante and not the monster she truly was.

People can change though. She was here now with her 'father' and with him and her God she would try to evolve to becoming more "human-like". Coming to Stormpoint she guessed was the first step in her evolution. She had learned to harness the beast but too often she found it terribly hard to qwell the instinctiveness that now ran through her veins.

This night, as most, Chelsea was on the archery range honing her abilities. Darkness was not an obstacle for her. Her half-elven sight and beastly aptitudes allowed her to hit her target true, every time. Chelsea took aim but halted, she saw a dark-feathered owl descending toward her. She lowered her bow and turned to face the now transforming figure of her friend Lyral.

"Sorry for the stealth," she began, but I wanted as little notice as possible."

Chelsea grinned at her friend and replied, "Must be pretty important for you to use such chicanery to see me. Is something afoot?"

"I got a message from Eowyn today," she paused, letting the import of the statement speak for itself. "She asked me to serve as a guide for a small party. She told me nothing else, of course, but you know her wonts better than I. At anyrate, this group needs a guide through the Tanglewood and the Shattered Lands. They've been charged by Sarenalon to retrieve a blade from a certain mage we both know." Her eyes conveyed a pointed expression, and when she saw that expression mirrored in the eyes of her friend, she continued.

The mention of Eowyn made Chelsea listened with great intensity. Lyral now had her undivided attention, her green eyes reflecting the hatred she felt at that moment not for Eowyn but for the un-named mage. Chelsea continued to listen...

"It's a peculiar party ... a half-elf, apparently skilled with blade and wit ... a human sea captain, who has Eowyn's vouch ... and a human lad, the half-elf's ward. There's also a cooshee, which lends them some credence, and some form of shade, which I could frankly do without."

Chelsea smiled and gave a small nod in understanding of Lyral's aversion to having to deal with a "shade." Chelsea had no problems with the "shade" but had a small amount of concern for the cooshee.

Chelsea gave a small chuckle, "It's a peculiar party indeed. Eowyn has given you her vouch and a charge by Sarenalon will make for an interesting trip. You have your concern of the "shade" and I for the cooshee, however, the potential for the demise of Darkelden bodes well for all."

"I've agreed to guide them. We're leaving just before first light. I know it's not much time to consider, or prepare, but this group could be the edge we've been waiting for. Plus, I'd feel much better about the undertaking knowing that you were at my back. What do you say? Care to tread the path once more?"

She grinned an all too familiar grin and answered, " Dear friend, I have tread many paths without you, but this one I will not. I will be glad to join your coterie. I'll gather my things, just tell me the particulars of our meet."

Chelsea Pendragon

A pale wash of relief rose through the druid's veins and her lips turned upward in a grateful smile. It wasn't that she didn't trust Gyndeene and her companions, though she thought some of their ideas ill-conceived, but she preferred the company of one whose skills and heart she knew, and she knew few so well as Chelsea.

"You've no idea of my thanks." She sighed in mixed measure before continuing, "I don't think you need worry about the cooshee. If the group is willing to accept the company of a shade, I sincerely doubt they'll be troubled by you. Besides, they seem to place some stock in Eowyn's opinion, and her history with your family runs long and deep. And remember," she added in an affectionately wry tone, "Augur will be there. And you know what a pain he can be. They'll likely not have time to give you a second thought."

"As I said, we're leaving just before first light setting out from ...."

The druid's voice cut off abruptly, and her eyes and ears searched the darkness that surrounded them. They found nothing of concern, but when she continued speaking, it was with a low voice and in a strangely guttural language rarely heard within the urban realm.

" .... from the circle ... you know the one. They plan to bring horses. I can't imagine you'd want one, but if you do, make sure it's one that will enter the Tangelwood and one you don't mind losing, as we'll be passing through the Shattered Lands."

She shook her head at the near paradoxical statement.

"They're well-stocked, courtesy of Sarenalon, but I've still got to gather a few supplies. And given that the number of merchants who keep late hours is dwindling, I'd best be off."

Another pang of appreciation tugged a corner of her mouth upward into a half smile, and three last words slid from her lips before the druid shifted once more into a creature of the air. "Again, thank you."

It took Lyral the better part of two hours to find and purchase the needed supplies, and the entirety of yet a third to reach the ancient tree whose roots had formed her bower for the past few nights. The moon, only a pale sliver of silver, hung low in the sky, and what stars surrounded it were hidden by the tangle of leaves and branches that formed the ceiling of the Tanglewood's northeastern rim. A heavy breeze sighed out from the depths of the forest, laden with scents of pine, of rich earth, of gem green waters, and countless other scents that the druid could sense. She closed her eyes and breathed it in, letting it fill her lungs, seep into her sinew, and pulse through her veins, feeling both intoxicated and welcome. She was home ... or the closest thing to it. The earth surrounding her bore no signs of her camp, nor would it ever. A druid, she was one with the land around her, one in an ancient symbiotic embrace that few understood.

Reluctantly, she exhaled and opened her eyes. Augur was nowhere to be seen. A small frown creased her face, but quickly faded. Most likely he was out hunting and would return in a few hours. She wouldn't be there by that time, but wherever she was, he would find her. He always did. Thus reassured, she slid ghost-like towards the trunk of the ancient tree and ran a hand along its bark-encrusted side in welcome. The leaves of the rooted giant rustled softly in response, and a small knothole yawned open, allowing her access to a darkened cache. Reaching within, she retrieved her gear, surprised to feel an extra item resting on the floor of the arboreal chamber.

She pulled it out slowly, her brow wrinkled in roughly equal measures of curiosity and concern, and examined it in the shadowy blue light around her. It was a bag, or more precisely, a pack ... leather and mid-sized. Attached to its mouth was a rolled leaf of parchment sealed with wax and a sigil that the druid knew only too well. Lyral shook her head, uncertain what to think. The shopkeeper had said she'd compensate her for her efforts should she agree to assist the strange assembly of travelers, but the druid couldn't fathom how Eowyn had learned of her decision, located her camp, and left the pack within the cache of the tree. Then again, when it came to the shopkeeper, there were many things she didn't understand, and she made mental note to ask Chelsea about some of them as she opened the pack and peered within.

Her eyes fell first upon the scroll case, both pleased and distraught at its contents ... pleased, as scrolls of resurrection could be quite literally vital on the journey that loomed ahead ... distraught, as she considered the fact that she alone could use them. Hoping that they wouldn't be necessary, she resealed their case and pulled next from the pack a small leather pouch. Pulling back the ties, she pried the mouth open and spilled the contents -- a handful of small, white cubes -- into her palm. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at them, trying to guess what they were. When she finally did, she rolled her eyes and stuffed the cubes back into the pouch, pulling its strings tight before tossing the pouch back into pack with a clear look of vexation. What was Eowyn thinking? What was the point in encouraging folly? What was she hoping to accomplish?

Several other similar questions pricked like hot needles in the druid's mind before she finally hit the question, "What was her problem?" Why was this bothering so much? Given the scope of the task that lay before her, the point was so very small. She'd save her energy for battles of greater import and hope that her wisdom and experience would then be heeded.

Thus resolved, she finished gathering her gear and, finding Eowyn's pack to be in far better shape than her old one, began the process of transferring the contents of one into the other. It was only then that she realized the pack's true nature and understood what a handsome gift the shopkeeper had in fact bestowed. Finishing her task in duly chastened appreciation, she left her old pack in the tree's cache to retrieve later, and ran her hand over the trunk once again -- this time in thanks and farewell. The leaves rustled softly in response and the knothole tightened into a tight circle, sealing the pack within.

"Until next time," Lyral whispered to the tree. "Grow deep."

With that, she strapped a golden sickle onto her hip, shifted, and winged her way to the standing stones. She reached them just before she began to tire, and found a suitable perch on the branch an old oak that overlooked the ring. Alighting on the branch, she grasped it tightly with her claws and tucked her wings close to her body to ward off the night chill. Then she waited, still and silent, for the rest of the party to arrive."

Lyral Kelazar

A wave of strong disapproval and anger flowed from the woman, but just as quickly the strong feelings dissipated and resignation replaced them. Though well hidden, Gyn had felt the intense emotions coming from the stranger. Gyn knew the woman thought her foolish. "Sufficient footing . . . roots, vines, mires . . . added attacks." These words cast a pall over Gyn's normally good nature as she watched Lyral slip away. Why had this woman agreed to guide them into the Shattered Lands. Why had she deviated from Eowyn's advice to avoid the tangled forest at all costs. A grim realization struck Gyndeene. It was obvious that this woman, Lyral, did not trust them and to be sure Gyn was trusting her less and less. What a fine fix they were in!

A tingle ran down her spine and her intuition flared. The tiredness and self-defeat, which had filled her only moments before, fell away like leaves before an autumn wind. She sought to follow the feeling to its source. Surreptitiously, she gazed about the room, her eyes assessing all they saw. Studying, searching, probing. It was just beyond the fringes of her mind. Absently, she touched the dragon scale talisman; the probing continued until her eyes returned to the cooshee.

Gyndeene accepted what her mind already knew. The cooshee was not what he appeared to be. Her mind demanded an answer. "Who are you and why are you here?" The cooshee rose; golden eyes stared back at the woman defiantly and his broad, bushy tail flicked back and forth in agitated protest. Gyn was relentless, her eyes like shards of brilliant glass. "Again, who are you?"

Josh watched the dual with fascination, unaware that he had heard the unspoken question. Something was either terribly wrong, or, hopefully terribly right. He waited, hardly breathing. Would the cooshee answer the question?

Gyndeene of Aquilar

Silent as always, the wraith watched Lyral leave the room, thinking about her words as her shadow trailed behind her and then was gone from sight. The wraith held no animosity towards the woman for her dislike of its presence. It too founds its presence, indeed, its existence to be a source of ravenous concern. Yet, there it was, awakened from a promised state eternal sleep to one of tattered sentience in what had once been an insignificant port town on the distant edge of the empire. It was too taxing for the sleeper, too tiring for what was left of its mind.

Although unaware of it, the sleeper had coalesced into a pale reflection of the corporeal twice in the span of as many hours, and the unintentional effort had left it drained, limp, and wanting nothing more than to sink into the temporary cloud of nonexistence that claimed it at such times. Already, the whispering tendrils of sleep had begun to caress the wraith's mind with their soft insistence, beckoning it to follow where they led. Heady with their promises, the spirit let itself be led, exhaustion dulling its senses to nearly all but the intoxicating call of rest. It was nearly there, so close to the hazy slumber it sought, when it heard Gyndeene's voice.

Her tone was level, but her words were sharp, cutting through the tendrils that pulled at the wraith as a blade through a long-abandoned web.

"Who are you and why are you here?"

Instantly alert, the wraith searched for the intruder that had prompted the question, casting its vision to all corners of the room at once. It found no one and nothing new within the chamber. Confused, it let its vision settle on Gyndeene, then followed her gaze to find her eyes locked with those of the elven dog. The dog, green and bristled, glared back at her with a baleful expression. Uneasiness stirred the wraith to greater strength. Whatever misguided magic Gyndeene possessed, its demonstration had left her fatigued, and the wraith feared that should the dog attack, she might not be able to bring it bear in time.

Impelled by its concern, the spirit flew with chill-swept speed until it was hovering between the woman and the dog. For a third time, unheralded and unbidden, a pale line of gold shimmered where the wraith hung. As it faded, a vision formed in the minds of all who had sight beyond the physical. Hazy and unclear at first, it sharpened into focus to show an image of the dog lunging towards Gyndeene, only to be wrenched from the air by a large, skeletal hand..

Wraithshade

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague.
Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"

Edgar Allan Poe
"The Premature Burial" (1850)

Silver had stayed quiet and brooded long enough. She eyed the woman Lyral as she left and turned to face Gyndeene and Josh. "I am going to gather my things and prepare for the journey." She paused for a second and glanced around the room, wary of leaving them. "I will be back a few hours before morning to help you pack up and get underway. The way out of merchant's row I know of, and from there Lyral's directions were simple enough. Josh, I trust you to secure most of the provisions we will need as Gyndeene has already instructed you." With this, she winked. "I will gather a few necessary items that have not been spoken of including Argonae." She turned to Gyndeene and gave her a quick hug. "Take care and be careful."

She quickly stepped out of the room and sighed as she rapidly made her way back towards the docks and her ship. This was indeed turning into a merry band of travelers with hundreds of secrets and unknowns lying in wait. Lyral seemed capable enough though mysterious, and something about her got under Silver's skin. Who was her mysterious companion?? Shaking her head she turned towards the coshee and the wraith. What was going on? Where were all these... people coming from? Should she be wary of those she could not see? Gyndeene seemed somewhat more at ease with them. She knew she should trust Gyndeene's instincts a bit more.

"Ahoy Cap'ain."

Silver looked up quickly and stopped. She hadn't even realized she had made it back to her ship. "'Evenin' Ty." She reached up and patted the extremely broad shoulder of her first mate. The towering man hovered over the Captain as she walked onto the deck, something not easily done considering she was tall for a woman. Something was visibly disturbing her. He could tell by the crinkle of her eye and the set of her jaw. "Cap'ain?"

Silver looked up again. "Aye?"

"Somethin' amiss?"

"You could say so." She turned to face him, crossing her arms. "Lots of things need answering and I have a feeling they won't be until my journey is over." She shook her head. "Ya know Gyndeene is here?"

Ty smiled, drawing himself up to his full seven foot height. "Aye. I do."

Silver chuckled, unable to help herself. Ty was always on his best behavior around his Captain, but especially so when it came to Gyndeene as well. "Well I am afraid I will be leaving the *Siren* in your hands for an indeterminable amount of time. I'm to accompany Gyn to aide her in a quest that..."

"Cap'ain, I don't think.."

Silver held up a hand. "You have no say, Ty. I know you don't think I should go alone without you, but there are more than enough of us right now that we shall be fine. I do not trust anyone else to keep the *Siren* safe, and if I am not returned by winter, I do not want her drydocked. Only you are able to sail her out and keep her in tip-top shape and safe." She dropped her arms and straightened her shoulders. "I will return by ice-melt, but until then, you are fully in charge of the ship and her crew, and I expect when I return, everything will be as I left it."

Ty frowned but nodded. Her wishes were always respected. "Aye, aye, Cap'ain."

Silver allowed a small smile to cross her lips. "I will be leaving before first light. I shall be needing you to send someone to fetch Argonae now so that she may be ready as soon as I am. Take care of my baby while I"m away." She patted the polished rail before turning and slipping into her quarters.

The Captain closed the door and lowered herself onto the stool in front of her mapping table. She knew fairly well the layout of the land having been in Stormpoint for years. However, she was unfamiliar with Tanglewood having never ventured into it and having only heard the stories. Frowning, she drew out her satchel and tossed in her charcoals, a quill with a bottle of ink, a few maps she thought might help, a compass, a change of clothes, and stopped when she came to the small wooden box that was bestowed upon her mysteriously by Eowyn. It was approximately 12 inches wide, 6 inches tall, and 6 inches wide. Silver placed the box on the table and lifted the lid. Inside glimpses of things were swirling in the darkness, until she saw the gleam of something silver.

Reaching in, she was surprised to find her hand curl about something cool and heavy. Drawing her arm from the box, she realized she was holding a long sword with a hilt depicting a siren. It was slowly followed by a deep blue scabbard that appeared to be scaled. Silver closed the box and eyed the sword in her hands. The detail in the siren nearly matched the one of her masthead. Incredible. She eyed the sword and then the box. How was it this sword had fit into that box? The answer was simple - Eowyn. Silver slowly drew the sword from the scabbard, and noticed the blade was silver and seem to reflect waterlike ripples. Silver replaced the sword into the scabbard and placed it next to the box.

Was this Eowyn's special gift to her? She fingered the hilt of her sword that had always been at her hip, since she could remember. The blade had been replaced but a few times, but the hilt and the feel had always remained the same. Should she trust the shopkeeper? She had no reason to doubt her. With a slight grimace, silver unbuckled the sword that had so long rested at her hip, and buckled on the new one bestowed by Eowyn. A mariner's sword. Silver placed her sword in her satchel along with the box of surprises, and strapped a dagger inside each boot for added protection. Drawing her cloak from a peg, she placed her back by her beside and dropped onto her cot for a few hours rest.

Merely four hours later in the darkness of the fading night, the Captain, cloaked in the color of twilight, slipped quietly, off her ship, to the waiting white mare tied to the dock. She reached out a hand, running her fingers lovingly over the mare's muzzle. "Good morning girl." The horse knickered in reply, butting her head against her master's hand.

Silver slipped up into the saddle, securing her satchel and drawing he familiar reigns into her hands. She sighed. It had seemed like a lifetime ago she had saddled up her mare and prepared for battle, this time however, it was sans armor and the enemy was for the most part unknown. She looked back to the ship. Beneath the shadows of her hood, her eyes met the mistmatched ones of her first mate. Ty nodded in a silent farewell as she lowered her gaze and turned towards the roads to meet Gyndeene and Josh..

Silver

Night had once again fallen across the city of Stormpoint, a solemn-soft ebony blanket dotted with the distant promises of pale, sparkling pinpricks of light. Within homes and inns and other establishments that stood within the maze-patched streets of the city, candles had been snuffed and lamps dimmed in resignation of the coming hours. In most towns, it was a time of rest. In this one, it was a time of wariness.

Too many things dwelt within the lengthening shadows that found purchase at the end of day, and too many of those things were born of a shadow darker than the mere absence of light. It was these latter things, and the fear they spawned, that kept many of the wiser residents safely ensconced within their homes once the sun's protective rays faded below the western rim. Such was not the case, however, in a darkened room that, for the time being, sat above the ground floor of the Kuriousity Shoppe.

Within this errant chamber, a solitary occupant reposed in a well-worn leather chair that sat obligingly before a dying fire. No other source of light was present, but the glowing embers within the hearth and the occasional flicker of a spark, floating and rising on an unseen lift, were sufficient for the figure who stared, unmoving, at the blackening orange coals.

"So much distrust," the watcher whispered to herself, "and so much dissension."

She should have expected it, given her knowledge of people in general, and of these people in particular. But despite her knowledge and the wisdom born of wearied experience, she was still, unexplainably, prone to hope for more than she perhaps should. Others, she knew, would call it a weakness. She had another name for it ... one she would share when she was called upon to answer. But until that time came, she was subject to none; and here, in the darkening room above her shoppe, she, with all her peculiar wonts, held sway.

From a corner of the room touched by only a feeble breath of the fading fire, a piercing caw issued from below a pair of gimlet eyes.

"No," the shoppekeeper responded distractedly, "I don't think you can."

She'd been considering whether she should intervene ... whether she should offer further assurance or assistance to those who now struggled within their self-spun webs of suspicion and pride. It was true that her word might help them break free of the tangled strands, but it would also deny them the strength they would gain by escaping on their own. She sighed, letting an immeasurable weight exhaustion slide from her lungs and lips. The fire stirred in response, burning with brighter anticipation.

Again, the flickering silence of the room was broken by a caw, this time rising with an air of inquiry.

"Yes," Eowyn nodded absently. "Yes, I was going to send some, but I don't think you ...."

Another caw and a sudden ruffling of feathers cut her short, and she frowned as her gaze followed the arc of the bird from its perch on the wall to a low, two-tiered shelf and a leather pack that rested atop it. A thin, dark brow rose high above the shoppekeeper's left eye as the pack came into sharper focus.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked of the raven-plumed bird.

It cawed sarcastically in response.

"Don't be smart," she snapped. "You know I've been looking for that. Did you move it?"

A series of short caws sounded in a near tittering reply.

"I wouldn't be so pleased if I were you," the shoppekeeeper shot back. "Remember, there are two four-legged residents of this shoppe that would find you quite tasty if I didn't intervene."

The tittering abruptly stopped, replaced by a low and doleful squawk.

"All right," Eowyn sighed, unwilling to have this argument once again. "You can help. Just give me a moment."

The bird gave a small, wing-ruffling hop with her words, clearly pleased with itself. She gave it no heed, concerning herself instead with a black-furred rumble of discontent that issued from her lap as she shifted to stand. She tried to placate the cat with a scratch behind its ear, but earned only the reproachful glare of a single yellow eye for her efforts.

"I'm sorry," she apologized to the disgruntled feline, "but it can't be helped."

Lifting the cat from her lap and placing it gingerly on the chair once she had risen, the shoppekeeper crossed to far side of the room. The fire sparked to life with her step, chasing away some of the shadows that draped the room, but more importantly, appeasing the ebony feline, which was now purring in contented warmth.

Aglow with the rippling orange light of the fire, the back wall was lined with bookshelves from wall to wall and ceiling to floor, holding a wealth of knowledge and material greater than that which resided on the shoppe's main floor. Smiling fondly as her hand brushed across a few of the volumes, the shoppekeeper scanned the shelves with care until her eyes settled upon a tome bound in carved brown leather. It slid from its niche with little effort, revealing itself to be not a book after all, but a hard-sided leather case, its top wrapped over its edge and sealed with a leather tie. Unwinding the tie and pulling back the top, Eowyn was pleased to find a dozen or so parchment scrolls nestled within the case's protective frame.

She didn't bother to examine them closely. She didn't need to. The unseen aura with which they pulsed confirmed what they were. Sealing them again within their case, the shoppekeeper strode to a plain wooden desk upon which rested a raven's quill pen and a silver inkwell. She dipped the former into the latter as she rested the case atop the desk and pulled a piece of parchment from a hidden drawer. Placing the parchment upon the desk, she began to write, the tip of the quill scratching across the parchment in hurried and purposeful strokes. When she was done, she blotted the ink twice, furled the parchment tightly, and sealed it with a heavy dollop of green wax. She had only finished impressing her sigil when the dark-winged bird, with its prized pack somehow in tow, landed upon the desk. The shoppekeeper gave him a smirk, but offered her thanks as well, slipping the scroll case into the pack. She was about to close it, when a small pouch sitting on nearby shelf caught her eye. After a moment of deliberation, she grabbed it and tucked it into the pack as well.

The bird, for its part, seemed to approve of her decision, and scarcely gave her time to affix her missive to the exterior of the pack before it spreading its wings and rising into the air with its parcel.

"Be careful," the shoppekeeper called after the it as it flapped towards a newly formed window on the east wall, "and please, don't do anything to aggravate the old oak this time."

Eowyn

"Pereat qui crastina curat!
Mors aurem vellens 'vivite' ait, 'venio!'"

Virgil, Copa 1. 37

Return to Part One.

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