Date: Tue, 26 Feb 2013 22:31:15 -0500
From: Alek Wise <alekwise84 (at) gmail (dot) com>
Subject: Of Bones and Blood, Chapter 6

Of Bones and Blood

An original work of fiction by Alek Wise. Any characters resembling real
people in this work are pure coincidence, as are any events or situations
relating to real life. Please feel free to comment (constructive, positive
comments only please. Negative comments will be disregarded) at your
leisure by emailing me directly at alekwise84 (at) gmail (dot) com. Enjoy!

Chapter Six
Comforts, Wishes and Wants

Even the powerful warmth of the sun could not chase away the dark scarring
Evoran had endured. He had followed his mother's directions. He had
returned the dove that had flown so very far from any noble city. Then he
had been captured, accused of thievery and beaten. The image of Tholwilde's
fist striking at him lapsed over and over again in his mind—the sour
expression of hate on the man's face, and the bitter taste of blood on
Evoran's lips. Evoran did not know him and did not care to. He had tried to
explain his innocence, but Talis' resolve seemed unwavering.

Evoran watched from the window of the bedchamber as the sun peeked from
beyond the mountains. He craved its warmth and the light that would chase
away the shadows. He had spent the night sitting in a high-backed chair
that faced the window of the bedchamber. Lying in the bed made him feel
most uncomfortable. He wanted nothing more than to escape the madness of
Mystvale and return home. Even the comforts the Lord's brother offered
seemed tainted with greed and hidden treachery. Evoran was certain that if
he had remained in the bed it would have swallowed him whole as he slept.

The radiance of the new sun penetrated the bedchamber and illuminated even
the most angular of crooks. Evoran abandoned his seat to approach the
window and peer through the vanishing mist onto the town below. He spotted
the Mystvale gates and the trade road beyond them—the road that he hoped
would carry him home in due time. Brande seemed sincere in his promise to
see him from the city, but Evoran learned long ago to never trust a noble.

A knock at the door shook Evoran from his thoughts and Brande Tholwilde
announced his presence through the dense wood. Hesitantly, Evoran
approached the door and unfastened the bolt which held it securely shut.

"Did you not sleep?" Brande asked with genuine curiosity from the
threshold. His eyes remained glued upon Evoran's pale form.

"I will sleep when I return home," Evoran clarified.

"Of that I have no doubt," Brande pointed out. "The Gael N'Aem will depart
soon. They will see you safely from Mystvale." Brande held an outstretched
hand toward the hall and Evoran fell into step next to him. His pace was
cautious and his eyes and ears were carefully trained for any indication of
Talis' presence.

"Fear not. My brother has gone for a hunt in the mist," Brande explained.

Despite the reassurance, Evoran remained visibly tense as they walked
through the dimly lit maze of stone corridors. They walked from the halls
to the court, and then to the stables near the court square. The stables
were dim and musty, and Evoran took particular notice of the smell of hay
and sweet oats that perfumed the stale air.

Evoran spotted the Gael N'Aem in a rear, dimly lit division of the stable
house. Two were sitting tall on the naked backs of their horses while the
third had locked foreheads with the magnificent beast he would soon
ride. Evoran kept a curious watch the youngest wizard from the aisle that
bisected two rows of well-kept stable pins.

Evoran had been told of the northern wizards as a child. His mother had
occasionally spoken of what little was known of the Geal N'Aem's practices
and mysticism. Everything else that Evoran had learned he had heard from
his encounters with the intoxicated elders of A'Menth Tara. They spoke of
insatiable lusts for power, so-called righteous sacrifices under the light
of thirsting moons and abilities far beyond the reach of mere mortals.

As Evoran studied the three powerful men before him, he saw not the
barbaric people from the stories he had heard as a child. Granted, the Gael
N'Aem were uniquely confident in their ways, but their willingness to help
him, to defend him again Talis' ruthlessness, allowed him to perceive them
in a different light.

"They are inseparable," the eldest of the Geal N'Aem observed as Evoran
drew near. "They love like siblings," he continued to explain as he
motioned to the youngest and his horse. Evoran nodded uncomfortably but
kept his lips tightly sealed.

"You may call me Iian," the second youngest declared with a warm smile. He
then motioned to the eldest with his left hand. "This is Priest-Roah, and
the youngest of us is Hale."

Hale and his horse both turned to look at Evoran simultaneously. A moment
later the horse knelt gracefully on the cool, stone floor of the stable and
Hale climbed elegantly atop its back.

"Come," Hale then offered. "Ride with me. Yevdrid is young and strong. He
can easily carry us both."

Evoran dared not hesitate. Though his nerves tingled with fear, he dreaded
another night in Mystvale more than any fate the Gael N'Aem may have had in
store for him. He suspected he would receive another brutal beating if he
lingered long enough for Talis Tholwilde to return. If the Geal N'Aem could
carry him from the dreadful walls of Mystvale then he would gladly accept
their transportation.

It took Evoran a moment to climb atop the kneeling horse and settle himself
behind Hale. Even by Hale's helping hand, Evoran found mounting a horse
with no stirrups quite awkward. As soon as he seemed set, Yevdrid stood and
walked casually to join the others. Brande, who had been watching quietly
from the aisle, accepted a knit bag from a court servant and approached
Evoran.

"This should last you on the journey home," he said as he handed the bag to
Evoran. Evoran glanced at its contents to find bread, apples and cheeses
inside. He then trained his eyes upon Brande once more and offered the best
smile he could manage.

"Thank you," he said at last. Brande nodded before turning to the address
the Gael N'Aem

"Fair journey my friends."

"Thank you for your hospitality," Iian said graciously.

"With luck on our side," Priest-Roah offered, "we will see you again soon."

"I truly hope so. Mystvale is blessed by your presence." Brande smiled and
the three nodded together before gently urging their horses from the stable
house. "Farewell, Evoran," Brande said with a final wave of his hand. "May
the Fates see you safely home!"

Brande watched as the four turned a corner and rode toward the city
gates. He began to dwell on the future as he heard the clanking of the
horse's hooves fade upon the cobblestone streets. He wondered if he truly
would see them again, or if Evoran would indeed return safely to his
village. Brande sighed and looked ashamedly at the stone walls around him
before finally returning to the court to await the cold heart of his
brother.

Evoran's shoulders felt less heavy beyond the gates of Mystvale. His burden
felt lifted at last. A smile played upon his lips and relief washed over
him. He felt it best to inform the Gael N'Aem where, precisely, his home
was located. He hoped they could deliver him as closely as possible. Evoran
sat tall and peered over Hale's shoulder to speak but he was cut off before
he could begin.

"Yes. A'Menth Tara. We know, friend," Hale said suddenly with a warm
smile. Evoran was startled when he remembered the wizards could see into
the minds of others. It made him wonder what else they had glimpsed within
him. "Your secret is safe with us, Evoran. Fear not."

"What secret?" Evoran asked genuinely after a long moment of bafflement.

"We know why you returned the dove, and we know of the warning it carried."
Evoran swallowed hard and tried to calm his speeding heart. "Word regarding
Southland reached us long before you were caught `stealing' from the King's
riders."

"And you did not mention this to Lord Tholwilde? Why?" Evoran asked despite
his nerves. "He might have—"

"Informing Lord Tholwilde of your knowledge, and that your mother had
broken a royal seal carried by a royal dove, would have certainly given him
grounds to impart unimaginable punishment. We knew of your true intent and
your innocence." Evoran did not speak but instead thought of the terrible
things Talis Tholwilde might have done if he had known. "You are lucky that
they merely thought you a thief and did not further charge you with
treason. If they had spotted your hands on the parchment, then we would
have found your corpse in the square when we arrived, and your head in the
waters of the Naga."

Evoran pictured the image and a sour look consumed his expression as he
absently wrenched his legs tighter around Yevdrid's sides. He wished,
perhaps all too much, that Talis would become prey to his own madness.

"What Talis does not know will never hurt him or anyone else," Iian then
added. "It is best, in fact, that he remain uninformed on many matters."





...





Adoran lay conscious and still on the cool ground. He had been listening to
the passing of a rather large group of individuals as they trotted south
along the distant, mud-brick trade road. He suspected the travelers were a
deployment of aide from the north sent to Brandyshire. Several minutes
passed before their sounds had been carried away, and Adoran was then left
to ponder over Brandyshire's welfare with only Lanse's ragged breathing to
accompany his thoughts.

The grass beneath Adoran tickled at the skin of his neck and the scent of
dew lay heavy in the air. The sun would rise soon, and with it came another
day of feverish riding upon the backs of the beasts Plaseharold had
generously gifted them only a few days past. Adoran could not remember a
time when his thighs ached so, or burned so intensely to the slightest
touch. While beautiful creatures, and moderately intelligent, Adoran held
firmly to his belief that horses were no more meant for riding than a
Darkling. He could hear the beasts breathing deeply even as they slept and
wondered if, like Lanse, they too had become victims of nightmarish devilry
behind the heavy lids of their eyes.

Lanse had been stirring for a long while but he never rose. Adoran
remembered calming Lanse the last time such horrors had taken him, but he
did not attempt to sooth his friend's uneasiness this night. It would not
have mattered. Adoran was powerless and had been so since he woke in the
court of Brandyshire. He felt the emptiness within him, a hollow void
familiar only to mortals. As a result, Lanse lay unsettled on the cool
grass and violent tremors raced through him. Consequently, Adoran received
little rest.

Images of the twins crept into Adoran's thoughts. His concern for their
safety had only augmented since he and Lanse had left Brandyshire. With the
loss of his abilities Adoran was unable to communicate with the twins. He
had tried multiple times to channel with Misha and Ashera, and each time he
felt the disappointment of fruitless results. Regardless, he knew they were
alive. He had strength enough to convince himself of that.

Adoran had not told Lanse of his current predicament, of his impotence, and
he hoped he would never find himself in a situation where he must. He
wondered if Lanse would look at him differently or think him
incompetent. In fact, Adoran had withheld much from the young Lord in
recent days.

The Black Sleep steals many things from its victims, but the senses remain
impeccably attuned. Adoran remembered the dark beast, the spell that
betrayed him and the resulting immobility in his limbs. He remembered
crashing clumsily to the floor of their bedchamber before reaching out to
the twins in a desperate, last-minute attempt to save both Lanse and
himself. He vividly recalled the hours he spent unconscious on the cot in
the court hall as Lanse waited patiently for him to wake, and the
unexpected touch that came not from a healer. An echo of the tender words
that followed played in his mind: "Why do you sleep?"

Adoran sighed in the darkness as Lanse jerked harshly yet again. He shook
his head to free his mind from ridiculous notions and rolled onto his left
side to face the horses. He began to think of the Temple, the Council and
of Roan Vyce as well. Adoran hoped Roan would have a remedy for his
weakness—his loss of power. Perhaps if he had not lost his elemental box
at Southland then he would not have remained broken longer than a day at
most. Still, if Roan did not possess a solution then Adoran would have no
choice but to travel to the Temple in search of a cure.

The thought of a journey to the far north, leaving Lanse in the hands of
crooked politicians, left a fowl taste in Adoran's mouth. He became
suddenly certain that Lanse's sole purpose in the world was to thoroughly
perplex those in his presence. Closing his eyes tightly against the
inquiries of his curious mind, Adoran pulled his cloak tighter to his chest
and calmed his thoughts.

Silence thundered in his ears as he lay upon the grass. A cool breeze
tugged at Adoran's hair and he thought that, under different circumstances
perhaps, he certainly would be content to lay under a cloudless sky with
someone as beautiful as Lanse as his side. This night however, wishes and
wants were not so delightfully simple. Truthfully, Adoran found himself
wanting for many things he had previously never desired, or given very
little thought at best.

A gasp from Lanse broke through the night and shattered the fragile silence
like a rock breaking the surface of a pristine lake. Adoran twitched
harshly and turned to find Lanse sitting rigidly upright as he stared into
the night sky. His neck was craned at an odd angle and his eyes seemed
fixed on a point in the stars that eluded Adoran's gaze. Despite his abrupt
awakening, Lanse sat perfectly still.

"My friend," Adoran whispered hesitantly in the darkness. Lanse did not
respond but instead kept his senses tuned toward the sky. Adoran stood and
turned his attention toward the sky but still he saw nothing. He was not
able to enter Lanse's dreams or he certainly would have done so.

"Lanse!" Adoran called in a bold staccato. Still, Lanse's mind remained
distant. Adoran grasped Lanse by the shoulders and shook him gently as he
repeatedly called his name. He tapped Lanse's cheeks with the pads of his
fingers and was prepared to slap him, his right hand raised high into a
striking position, when Lanse finally responded.

Lanse inhaled sharply and blinked with strained effort. His muscles began
to relax and Adoran guided his exhausted, limp form easily to the cool
earth. Lanse wore a look of confusion and alarm. Adoran studied him
concernedly for a long moment.

"Where did you go?" Adoran asked softly as he hovered closely by. "What did
you see?"

Lanse blinked thoughtfully as his eyes searched their surroundings for an
answer. Beads of moisture pooled on his forehead and trickled along the
lines of his youthful skin. Lanse wiped at his face and eyes with a free
hand and swallowed hard as he attempted to calm his breathing.

"I do not know," Lanse explained. "I cannot remember." His breathing was
ragged and he continued to look all around him for a moment before his gaze
settled on Adoran's concerned expression at last. "But I was not here."

"Rest for a moment," Adoran offered as he let his hand settle on Lanse's
shoulder. Lanse sensed an incongruity in the Gael N'Aem's mask of
assuredness, but he said nothing. "I will ready the horses. The sun will
soon wake and we can leave this night behind us."

As Adoran roused and saddled the horses, he was afforded the opportunity to
reflect on Lanse's words and recent events. He had never before witnessed
such powerful dreams in a mortal. Lanse's "condition" left Adoran
troubled. He longed for the ability to peer into Lanse's dreams once
more—to see beyond the surface. He surely would have pushed beyond the
fog to discover what lay dormant inside it. The ambiguity of the situation
left him rattled and permeated with concern.

Adoran hissed in aggravation as he became suddenly aware that he was no
more or less valuable than a mortal in his current state. He pulled
forcefully on a leather synch and began lacing it into a simple knot. The
wishes and wants of a desperate Gael N'Aem would surely not present a
solution to his encumbrance. He willed his racing mind to calm itself, and
when it refused he ultimately decided to conceal his distress.

Moments later Adoran was joined by Lanse, who gathered his belongings and
mounted his horse wearily. Lanse watched in a disinterested fashion as
Adoran secured a satchel of bread and cheese to a steel ring on the saddle.

"Are you well to ride?" Adoran inquired in his typical tone as he tugged on
a tiny strap.

"Well enough," Lanse responded distantly. He had suddenly taken an interest
in the stitching on the pommel of his saddle.

"Each passing day brings us closer to the City of Smiles," Adoran
offered. "We will soon arrive."

"Perhaps a dreamless sleep awaits me there," Lanse said with a hint of hope
in his words.

Adoran looked warmly at Lanse for a moment and then mounted his horse. Once
in the saddle he adjusted his posture and silently pleaded for a day of
riding that would not set his thighs ablaze with torment. A gentle nudge
from Adoran's heels sent the horse into an easy step. With the rising sun
to light their path, Adoran led the way back to the road and onward toward
the City of Smiles.





...





Hale had slowed Yevdrid on more than one occasion to right a dismally weary
Evoran. The sun had begun to set in the western sky and with its vanishing
heat a moist chill began to rise. Their journey had been swift thus far, as
Yevdrid's smooth gate seemed to somehow bend time. The Gael N'Aem had
stopped to rest only once since they departed Mystvale and set upon the
Trade Road. Already they quickly approached A'Menth Tara. Nonetheless, Hale
and Yevdrid kept an eye trained on Evoran, who had threatened to tumble
from the swift horse more times than any in the party would care to
acknowledge.

"The Trade Road will soon fork," Iian pointed out in the closing
darkness. Evoran strained to glance at his surroundings. When he finally
caught a coherent glimpse his eyes grew wide with anticipation.

"At last," he mumbled. Hale was quick to cast him a warm smile.

"Indeed. You are almost home."

"You," Priest-Roah said to Hale, "must see the lad to his home. Yevdrid is
swift. You will catch us easily."

"I will return before you reach the Dead Road," Hale responded after he
nodded in understanding. "Do not slow for me."

As the Trade Road began to split, Hale directed Yevdrid to hold south. Iian
and Priest-Roah continued along the main road and soon vanished from
sight. Evoran held tight to Yevdrid as the road began to twist and enter
dense foliage. The creeping moon, Evoran noticed, was nearing the end of
its cycle. Very little of its light penetrated the lush leaves of the
canopy, but Evoran deduced that Hale and Yevdrid could likely see well
enough to guide them nonetheless.

"You could simply have ignored the dove," Hale said suddenly over the
clacking of Yevdrid's hooves. "Why risk your life for a cause that is not
your own?" Yevdrid twisted his ears as if he too was interested to hear
Evoran's explanation.

"Perhaps for the same reason you took pity on a commoner in Mystvale,"
Evoran responded. His statement earned him a thoughtful look from Hale and
a faint whinny from Yevdrid. Perhaps the graceful creature had found a
touch of humor in his words.

"You are noble and true, Evoran of A'Menth Tara," Hale said. "Though, I
will be grateful when you no longer threaten to tumble from Yevdrid's
back." Evoran laughed despite the warmth that surged to his cheeks.

The ride had been long and feverish, and both found the conversing
refreshing. Conversation had been scarce at best since they had departed,
and speaking with Hale had helped to tare Evoran's thoughts from a growing
hunger. He had consumed the last of Brande Tholwilde's gifts long before
the sun fell below the horizon, and his tired body craved nourishment and
rest. Though, the talking ended when Evoran spotted the dim lights of
A'Menth Tara through the thinning tree line.

Evoran's smile widened and Hale drove Yevdrid into a quicker pace as the
road began to widen beyond the forest. Free at last of the confining limbs
and treacherously jagged paths, Yevdrid raced to the village proper. Many
of the villagers had retreated to the sanctuary of their homes to stave off
the cool evening air, but a few children still played amid the abandoned
stone paths of A'Menth Tara. Some watched in awe as Yevdrid carried his
riders fleetingly by while others, generally the older children, dove from
their path in terror-ridden fashions.

Evoran spotted one child in particular sitting on a low limb of a great
tree that overlooked his family farm and home. Had it not been for the
light of the moon, Evoran would have taken no notice of the young boy. When
Danel caught sight of the approaching riders he hopped from his perch and
approached cautiously to investigate. The appearance of Evoran's smile from
behind the cloaked rider prompted the spread of a wide grin on Danel's
face.

"Danel!" Evoran heard his mother yell from inside their cottage. "Come
inside before you catch a chill!" Londa presented herself at the threshold
when Danel did not immediately respond. She caught sight of Evoran
dismounting a horse and she smiled eagerly before running to him with
outstretched arms. The Gael N'Aem sitting atop the mighty steed did not
escape her notice, however.

"Home at last," Londa said as she pulled her son into a tight embrace. When
she released Evoran to hold him at arms length she took particular notice
of the bruises on his cheeks and lip. A concerned expression replaced her
joy. Anxiety painted a her face as she gasped and brought a quivering hand
to her lips. "What has happened?" she asked as she glanced quickly from
Lanse and Hale.

"Nothing of great interest," Evoran said in a consoling tone. Londa and
Danel saw plainly the hollowness of his response. Even Yevdrid's ears flew
into a cockeyed position as he blew fiercely through his nose. "It is
wonderful to see you both," Evoran continued in hopes of changing the
subject. Danel studied Evoran quite seriously for a long moment before
smiling again.

"I'm glad you are back," Danel said warmly as he hugged Evoran waist. Danel
seemed, for the moment, content to let his brother elude questioning
regarding his disheveled state.

"Do you see?" Evoran asked of Danel as he looked to the moon and extended a
directing finger. Danel's eyes turned toward the sky for a moment. "I
promised you I would return before the moon was new." Evoran gave Danel a
pat on the shoulder and turned to Hale.

"Thank you, Hale" Evoran said kindly. "I owe to you all the coming days of
my life."

"You owe me nothing," Hale responded. "The pleasure has always been mine,
friend." Hale then briefly addressed Londa. "Your son is strong and brave,
but he should take great care to stay clear of Mystvale." Londa's eyes grew
wide with concern once more.

"Where are your belongings?" Danel asked Evoran curiously as Londa nodded
in agreement. She perched on her toes to peer behind Hale as if they might
be concealed from sight.

"I had to leave them behind," Evoran responded hesitantly.

"You must tell me everything," Danel said as he clasped Evoran by the hand
to lead him slowly away. Evoran struggled to offer a final wave to Hale
while Danel attempted to pull him toward the doorway.

"We will me meet again," Hale announced confidently.

Hale had been smiling as he watched Evoran disappear at the clutches of his
younger sibling, but Hale's expression began to change when his eyes fell
upon Londa's still form. She stood steadfast before him. Hale sensed
uneasiness within her as she watched and waited for her sons to enter their
cottage. Londa turned back to Hale with a rigidness in her back and
shoulders, and an uncharitable expression on her face that he did not
anticipate.

"I know what you are. You must leave," Londa declared lowly. Hale wore a
confused, guarded expression. He was tempted to peer beyond her fiery eyes
and into her thoughts, but ultimately he decided otherwise.

"I have no intention of remaining here, my Lady," Hale responded calmly.

"Please," she added with an unexpected touch of sincerity, "see that you do
not."

Hale bowed deeply and turned Yevdrid to ride from the village. A nudge
reminded Yevdrid of their pending rendezvous, and the horse bolted for the
woodland road that would lead them back toward their comrades. Behind him,
Hale sensed the watchful eyes of a concerned mother, but he did not turn to
confirm his tingling senses. He welcomed the shelter of the concealing
treeline when the road met the forest.



...





Adoran had kept a close watch on Lanse as they rode. Even in the gathering
darkness he trained his eyes on the young Lord as he rode nearly lifeless
atop his horse. His eyes threatened to seal themselves against
consciousness and his hands had fallen upon the pommel of his saddle. Lanse
weakly gripped the reins, and he threatened to release the flimsy leather
straps from his limp fingers. Lanse began to nod as they rode and Adoran
feared that he may tumble from the beast before they reached the end of
their journey.

The two had not stopped to rest their weary eyes in nearly two days. At
Lanse's request they had kept to the road and pressed onward. Adoran had
not slept in days--not since he woke in Brandyshire. He craved the serenity
and escape that sleep provided, yet despite his weary eyes and fatigued
body he remained unable to escape the waking world.

Adoran diverted his eyes for a moment to gaze into the sky. He peered into
the sea of darkness in a vain attempt to discover what had held Lanse so
terribly still two nights past. The past two days had given Adoran ample
time to consider many things. He had pondered over the fog in Lanse's mind
yet again, and was deeply curious to know if it was somehow connected to
his restless dreaming and violent tremors. Most importantly, he wondered
what lay in wait within the cloudy recesses of Lanse's mind. He sighed in
the growing darkness and tuned his gaze on the horizon.

Clouds were brewing upon the skyline--dark, thick clouds that masked the
stars and drifted lowly amid the heavens. Flashes of light illuminated a
distant skyline to reveal a sizable, fast-approaching storm. The light of
the moon became cloaked as the dense shadow drew ever closer. Adoran
watched as the brilliant thunderclouds roll against an ominous sky.

"We must make haste if we are to reach the city before the storm finds us."
Adoran spoke evenly despite his wearied state. A delayed nod signaled
Lanse's understanding.

Adoran nudged his horse with his heels and the beast sprung into a jarring
canter. Lanse's horse was quick to match pace. Adoran found the
unwaveringly harsh jolting of the beast's stride to be nearly enough to
sicken him. If nothing else, he surmised, it would serve to keep them both
alert until they reached their destination.

A steady wind broke through the surrounding trees as the mass of explosive
clouds crept closer. The air grew moist and the smell of dirt and grass
became punctuated by the twisting winds that preceded the storm. A
noticeable chill tickled at the naked skin of Lanse's neck and forced him
to pull his cloak tightly around his body. Both shared a momentary look
before urging their horses into a faster gait.

The wind tugged at clothing and hair, and whistled obnoxiously in the ears
of the horses as it began to gust with greater ferocity. A pelting rain
began to fall, pummeling the earth with large, biting droplets of
water. Adoran and Lanse attempted to shelter themselves from the
unforgiving weather with their cloaks but instead settled for clinging
firmly to the necks and mane of their horses. Again, Adoran found himself
longing for the swiftness and skillfulness of the twins.

The mud-brick road they trod turned to cobblestone as the trees on either
side began to part. Adoran dared to bare his face to the stinging rain and
scraping wind, and in a brief glance he spotted the faint lights in the
towers of the City of Smiles. He sighed in relief but held tightly to his
mount as they closed the distance.

"At last!" came a muffled cry from Lanse.

They approached the city's towering walls and reined the beasts to an
abrupt halt under a lofty awning above the central gate. Flags hung from
the high-arching entryway, partially concealing the elephantine doors that
guarded against unwanted entry. Feeling somewhat safer from the wind and
rain, Adoran dismounted and carefully swung the reins clear of the horse's
neck. He approached the gated entry and rapped loudly upon the large
doors. When his request for entry went unnoticed he repeated the gesture
with amplified force.

Adoran waited as patiently as he could manage for the city guard to open
the spyhole. After several moments a metal shim slid roughly aside to
expose a pair of narrow eyes peering intently at Adoran from beyond the
slender opening.

"State your business here," a coarse, deep voice demanded. The eyes to
which it belonged narrowed in dissatisfaction when Adoran did not
immediately respond.

"I am Adoran of the Gael N'Aem. I come to speak with the Council of Eight."

"Why might a wizard be traveling on such an dreadful night?" the guard
pressed with more than a touch of disfavor.

"It is of no concern to you," Adoran responded candidly. The guard's eyes
widened momentarily but immediately narrowed when he took notice of Lanse
sitting idly behind Adoran.

"How many in your party?" he asked with avid aggravation as his gaze flew
back to Adoran.

"No more than you see."

The guard took several moments to evaluate the situation before slamming
the metal shim harshly shut. Adoran took the opportunity to mount his horse
once more. The large doors began to slowly part on their squeaky, angular
hinges after what seemed an eternity of waiting. They opened to reveal the
scowling guard, soaked and sodden by the pouring rains, standing rigidly
beyond them. His hands were crossed most uncomfortably upon his chest while
he strove to stand as stiffly as his rotund form would allow.

"Admitting travelers after evenfall is treacherous business," the guard
said grumpily. One of Lanse's eyebrows rose curiously as he examined the
strange man. "Who's the dawdler?" Lanse shot the guard a deathly glare.

"You will do well to mind your tongue," Adoran said sharply before Lanse
could respond. Adoran urged his horse through the gate and into the falling
rain once more. Adoran marched forward until the guard took a step backward
for fear of being trampled. "Commoners, even those dressed in noble garb,
owe their allegiance to their Lords." Adoran eyed the man fiercely.

The guard swallowed hard and looked past Adoran to find Lanse starring
angrily at him. Shocked, he stood with a bewildered look upon his
face. Adoran nudged his horse onward and Lanse quickly followed as he kept
a keen eye on the guard. Once they had passed, the guard ordered the gates
tightly sealed before running ashamedly to the safety of a dimly lit niche
near the base of the towering wall.

The heavy rains washed mud and debris amid the horse's hooves as they rode
through the deserted city streets. The horses sloshed through the murky
water that masked the chiseled cobblestone, and veered through narrow
alleyways where the rain poured upon their heads from the steeply sloping
rooftops above them. The winds, at least, were not so prominent within the
walls of the city. Still, the two struggled to keep the icy water from
chilling them to the core as they followed the dim lamps of the city.

When Lanse finally spotted the stables, he straightened his back and
breathed in relief. He urged his horse into the stables as quickly as the
fatigued beast would carry him. Lanse quickly dismounted once he was free
of the wild weather. Adoran arrived only a moment later to find him ringing
the water from his sleeves and cloak.

A stable hand quickly appeared from an unseen entry to greet them. The lad
was no doubt younger than Lanse, but easily stood two hands taller. He wore
tattered clothing, a belt from which multiple grooming tools dangled in a
cluster and had brown curly hair that fell upon his shoulders. Both likely
agreed that his clothing was much too old and too small for his growing
form—leaving little to the imagination.

"Come further," the young man said in a voice still in turmoil from his
changing physiology. He took the reins from Lanse and led the party further
into the stables. "The weather is not so harsh inside."

They followed the lad further into the stables before Adoran
dismounted. Like Lanse, he seemed more than happy to hand his horse to the
young man when the opportunity presented itself. As the lad tended to the
horses, Adoran took a brief moment to let his aching thighs rest. He turned
to find Lanse pouring the water from his soggy boots and a smile played
upon Adoran's lips. Lanse had been completely drenched by the rains and
stood quivering as streams of water trickled from his hair and
fingertips. Adoran brushed the water from his own hair and face. He watched
Lanse for a brief moment before he finally spoke.

"Come," Adoran instructed as he shed his wet cloak and draped it neatly
over his left arm. "You are freezing. Let us warm your bones." Lanse looked
at Adoran, who appeared calm and unflinching, as he eased the boots back
onto his feet.

"Are you not chilled?" Lanse asked with some astonishment as he fell into
step next to Adoran.

"Freezing," Adoran confessed after a moment.

"You haven't the slightest tremor."

"You are trembling enough for us both," Adoran jested. "Now, let us find
our way to the keep."

Lanse found himself smiling despite the weariness he felt. He pulled his
cold, wet cloak closer to his body in a fruitless attempt to warm himself
and followed Adoran through a corridor off one end of the stables. Lanse
yearned only for a fire, a bit of food and a warm bed. He glanced at Adoran
as they walked and wondered if the Gael N'Aem desired similar
things. Perhaps they would be free of the darkness at last—free of the
shadows, the weather and the wilds. Maybe their stay in the City of Smiles
truly would mark the end of their trials.

Lanse's smile began to fade when he realized that, if his hopes were
realized, he may soon be bidding his farewells to Adoran. His gaze fell
upon the stone floor for a long moment. The thought left him feeling weak
and his breath caught in his throat.

"Lanse?" Adoran's voice echoed through the corridor. Lanse looked up to
find Adoran had advanced several paces ahead of him. Adoran stood in wait
for a long moment before he began retracing his steps. "What is it?"

Lanse swallowed to clear his throat. "It's nothing," he replied emptily as
he pulled the soaked cloak even tighter around his form. He locked eyes
with Adoran at last and, while he thought Adoran to honorable person,
prayed the Gael N'Aem would not invade his thoughts. "I just needed to rest
for a moment."

Adoran nodded thoughtfully and then clapped Lanse on the shoulder. He held
out an inviting hand as he spoke. "Come," he said gently. "Many comforts
wait for us."

"I truly hope so," Lanse admitted under his breath.