Another Candle'Bre Story....

[Velociryx]

The Story-Weaver

Author’s Note – This story was not originally written for the Candle’Bre universe, but it had such a familiar “Candle-Bre-ishness” about it that it was incredibly easy to make a few tweaks and changes to make it work. Time frame wise, this story takes place in approximately AC 155...the populace does not know it yet, but the Onyx War is just on the horizon for them....for the moment, however, the Kingdom knows peace.

The wagon was a brightly colored affair, splashed with reds and yellows, and pulled by a team of four midnight black stallions, be-decked in brilliant red-dyed leather barding. It’s driver sat comfortably behind the team, with a posture of knowing confidence that made it clear he had been driving for quite some time. With a deft flick of his wrist, he guided the team around a slight bend and up the last rise, winding his way carefully over the well-worn track, a happy look in his ancient, hazel eyes.

The Trentans, being Free-Folk, had a long-standing custom, whereby any elder of the society who wished to, could petition for a Travel-Wagon, if it was their wish to journey through the country, spreading the wisdom of their experiences to future generations. And despite the fact that the people of some of the neighboring Provinces of Candle’Bre regarded the practice as just one of many odd quirks that made Trentare unique, the Free Folk were as serious about keeping their customs and traditions alive as they were about their personal freedom.

In his youth, Geoffen Trantalas had served with the Trentan Bordermen (what passed for Trentare’s own standing army) and as such, had marched and fought side-by-side with the Army of Candle’Bre in their numerous struggles. He was of lowly birth, and saw it as a way to distinguish himself. And distinguish himself he did. He joined just two years before the Dark Lords of the Eastern Mountains began brewing their foul plots to overrun the tiny, isolated Kingdom.

No one knew for certain what foul magic had spawned the Dark Lords….Steppe Wraithes, as the folk of Candle’Bre took quickly to calling them. Some held that they were the angry, vengeful spirits of Nilrogg who had been devoured by God’s Teeth when the Kingdom had been formed. Others held that they were the Nilrogg’s own Witching Folk, come for a measure of revenge.

Whatever the case, the opening months in that first war with the Dark Lords were dark times indeed. With lightning, precision strikes, the sturdy Wizards were caught woefully unprepared and either enslaved or imprisoned (in roughly equal measure), suddenly bringing all of the provinces of North Eastern Candle’Bre under the dominion of the Dark Ones, and cementing their power base.

Mercenary armies, backed a not inconsiderable number of Nilrogg scouts (and some entirely new creature besides….intelligent, wolverine-sized “Rock Badgers” that could hew through solid rock with one swipe from their steely paws) swept across the Northern Lake provinces, while the whispers of the Dark Lords paralyzed the stout forces of the Council of Seven as their leaders were reduced to petty squabbling and endless debate as to how to proceed.

With Provinces of Candle’Bre being absorbed at an alarming rate, and the power of the Crown slow to muster in response (the pride of the army, Fury’s King’s Guard unit was out of contact and unreachable for nearly two months, having been sent on an ill-advised, and ill-fated expedition into the Western Mountains to scout for possible passes and tunnel systems), the Trentan Bordermen suddenly found themselves at the forefront of the conflict, and for a good number of weeks, found themselves standing largely alone and in the face of overwhelming odds….truly instrumental then, in the defense of the Kingdom against the rising tide of the Dark Lords.

In time, and countless battles later, the Dark Lords were beaten back, but not defeated, and twice more during Geoffen’s lifetime, they rose back up from their lonely haunts to trouble the civilized lands. He never thought he would want to talk about those days, but as he grew older, he realized that, beneath the fighting and bloodshed, were stories. Human stories, which ran the gauntlet of emotion. And there was wisdom in them.

His lovely wife, Annabelle saw it in his eyes, the longing not to grow old and simply cease to be useful. He had been a hard worker all his life, and it was his way. So it was she who urged him to petition for the Travel-Wagon, to wander and share his wisdom with others. Lovely Annabelle.....as beautiful to him now as she had been when they had first met all those years ago. He smiled wistfully as his team topped the hill and started down the other side, the village of Aard springing into view. Sweet Annabelle.

He straightened in his seat, feeling the excitement in his team. They knew their journey was almost over and were looking forward to a much deserved rest and a brushing (not to mention a good meal of sweet oats) just as much as Geoffen was looking forward to the hospitality and hot food likely to be offered by the townsfolk in exchange for his services. His smile growing, he continued into town, looking for a suitable spot to set up camp.

Less than thirty minutes later, he’d found a spot by the small, winding river that wrapped itself around the north end of the village. Unhitched the horses, found a strapping, youngish lad to tend to them, and had a fire crackling a few feet in front of the wagon.

He sat before the fire, smoking his pipe, a far-off look in his eyes as he watched the plowmen coming in from the fields. Soon, as the shadows deepened, they would begin coming. Men and women hungry for news and gossip, and children, for the stories. The children. They were the main reason he had wanted this life for he and Annabelle.

As if she were so attuned to her life-mate that she could read his thoughts, Annabelle stepped gently down from the wagon and walked over to him, wrapping her arms gently around his shoulders and kissing his cheek.

“You’re looking forward to tonight.....more than usual I mean.”

He touched her. Always did. Never tired of it. Caressed her cheek and turned to look at her. “Yes.”

“You’re going to tell our story, aren’t you?” Her eyes were shining. Even after all these years, it still brought tears to her eyes. His too.

“I was thinking on it....yes.”

He smiled up at her, and she smiled back, then ruffled his unruly white hair.

“Good.....then I’m going to get some caramel apples ready for the young ones.”

She turned to go back to the wagon, and he started to rise.

“Then let me help you back into the wagon.....with your leg, you shouldn’t....”

She waved him off dismissively, but turned to smile at him as she did so.

“Geoffen Trantalas....I have been your wife for thirty-two years....you can stop mothering me!”

He smiled at her sheepishly as he watched her very carefully pull herself back into the wagon, taking care not to put too much weight or stress on her left leg. The sight of it made him tear up, and he turned his attention back to the fire and his pipe with a heavy sigh. Oh yes. There was a story there. A very powerful story indeed. And it was nearly time for the telling.

Aard was made up of perhaps forty families, and by the time the sun had gone down completely and the shadows had cloaked the town thickly, most of them were gathered around the Story-Weaver’s wagon. Many had brought food in the form of pies, loaves of bread, or salted meat, all of which he accepted gratefully, and with a smile. One matronly woman brought up a large kettle of piping hot rabbit stew, his favorite. He kissed her cheek and carried the kettle to the wagon, handing it up to Annabelle who was, waiting inside the wagon. It wasn’t often that Geoffen told their story, but when he did, she always remained inside until the end. She didn’t want the townsfolk to see her cry, and Geoffen was better at hiding his tears.

So she sat in the cozy confines of the wagon, eyes closed, listening to the sound of his voice. And such a voice. Deep and rich, and with an amazing range. It could be full of power and command one moment, and then soft, almost child-like in the next. It was the voice of a man born to weave-stories, and he was a natural at it. Oftentimes she wondered that, if they had lived during more peaceful times, how his life might have turned out differently. He would not have had to devote so much of his life and energy to learning the arts of war, and could have focused on his stories, which was where his real love was. She smiled and wrapped herself up in the sounds of him, tingling with anticipation as the time drew closer for the story to begin.

He talked of the Freemen Capitol city, (also called Trentare), and all the wonders to be found there, and of the trade caravans they had seen heavily laden with sweet and exotic smelling spices, bound for all parts of the Kingdom. Of rumors that once again, the Dark Lords were stirring in their haunted, mountainous homes, and once more, the (now famous) Trentan Bordermen would be at the front of the looming confrontation. He told them tales of politics and treachery, of the assassination of the mighty Warlock-Lord Rand, of the north, (reputedly) by his rival Lord Morngrymn, and older tales, of his days with the Border Guard. Tales of friendship and sorrow. Tales of terrible battles in cold, rainy Steppes, and of long nights filled up with the howls of the dying.

All eyes were on him, the villagers hanging on his every word. Mothers held their children tightly, and the men-folk brooded over the darker news, setting their jaws in hard lines and narrowing their eyes. All fascinated. All paying rapt attention.

Yes, he thought to himself as he watched them, gauging the reaction of the crowd. It’s time.

He stretched and sighed and tamped out his pipe. “Well gentle folk, I thank you for your hospitality, but this old man must get some rest. I have many miles to turn tomorrow.”

As expected....as was the custom when the townsfolk were truly enjoying the stories, those words had barely left his mouth when one of the children (a young, smallish boy with unruly hair like his own), spoke up. “Please Old’pa....tell us one more!” And there were murmurs of agreement all around the fire.

He paused for a long moment, as if considering, then sighed deeply. “How can I refuse? You have been more than kind....one more then.”

He re-lit his pipe and took a long, thoughtful drag. Inhaling the aromatic smoke deeply into his lungs and tracing his finger over a deep, jagged scar that ran just beneath his right eye. The crowd watched him intently.

Waiting.

Finally he spoke. His voice barely a whisper. Eyes glassy as his mind reeled backwards, wandering down the ancient corridors of his own past. To another time.
Another age.

“It was the third time the Dark Lords and their armies swept in from the mountains….thirty harvests ago, and three.” He whispered softly. “And of course, as soon as the rumors began, we of the Border Guard were sent out to investigate. As always, our numbers were small....we had more than six hundred miles of frontier to scout, and less than a thousand men to do it with, so we went out to face the juggernaut from the Mountains in bands of two and three. I was paired up with a big fellow named Kane, who hailed from the North Wood, and a smaller man named Sevren.”

“Would that be Sevren Redbeard?” A voice from the crowd asked.

Geoffen looked up as the man who had spoken stepped forward. He was short and barrel-chested, with long reddish hair flowing down over his shoulders and a ruddy complexion. What struck the old Story-Weaver the most though, were the man’s eyes. Fierce and green. Deep set. Just like Sevren’s eyes had been, so long ago.

“Yes. Sevren Redbeard. The savior of Blathford Falls.”

The silence that followed was extreme. Everyone in the kingdom knew the name Sevren Redbeard. How the scouts had happened upon a band of refugees being run down by an entire column of Mercenaries, Rock-Beasties, Nilrogg, and other assorted foul creatures. At the time, he was the only member of his band not afflicted with the Sleeping Fever (Geoffen and Kane had both fallen victim to it, some three days before), so Sevren made a hasty arrangement with the refugees.

They would cross the Rappenock River at the old Stone Bridge not far from Blathford Falls, and take his comrades in arms with them, to nurse them back to health, and in order to cover their escape, Sevren would hold the bridge for as long as he could.

Alone.

It was the most famous story in all of Trent (and quite possibly in all of Candle’Bre), and it, more than any other tale, made the members of the Bordermen almost legendary. Single-handedly, one Borderman stalled the entire column for four and a half hours and cost the Dark Lords more than two hundred men. His body was never found, but years later, when peace returned to the land, a statue was erected there in his honor.

It was Geoffen who broke the silence finally. “My story occurred about three weeks after the Blathford Falls incident.” He said quietly. “Kane and I awoke in the refugee camp, and were too weak to do much else but stay with them, so we slowly tracked our way westward, away from the frontier and away from the fighting. Near a week later, Kane was strong enough to walk and carry me, and that’s what he did. With me on his shoulders, walking twelve to fourteen hours a day, he took us back into the jaws of the beast.”

He studied the faces of the people around the fire with him. No one moved.

No one so much as blinked or breathed.

“Finally, I recovered sufficiently to walk on my own, and a good thing it was, too, because for all Kane’s strength, he was exhausted. We traveled back to the frontier and found that the bridge had been destroyed. We spent an entire day looking for Sevren’s body, but never turned anything up. Were just about to leave the area when we saw the carriage.”

A carriage? This was new. No one in the village had heard of this. As a single body, everyone leaned forward slightly.

“We hid on the far side of the river and watched for a time as the carriage driver trolled up and down the bank, like he was impatient....but impatient about what, we could not guess.”

His pipe had gone out, so he took a moment to re-pack and light it. Aside from his movements, nothing stirred. Even the owls and cicadas had gone silent, waiting for the Story-Weaver to continue.

From her position inside the wagon, Annabelle marveled at his skills. How deftly he captured their interest, then teased them bit by bit with the story....timing his delays to maximize the suspense for them. She had known him far too long to believe that it was by chance that his pipe had run out just after he mentioned the carriage, and it made her smile. No doubt about it. Her life-mate was a natural at his craft, just as she was a natural at hers....

That caused her to smile, and with a thought, she cast a portion of her essence into the sky....up and out of the wagon, and used it to survey the scene. And as she did so, she drew her gaze down upon the man who sat before the fire smoking his pipe. Even though time had ravaged his body, he still looked handsome to her, and she gently cast a spell so it would not disturb him or interrupt his tale, for they had been together for so long a time now that he had grown quite sensitive to her magicks, but he was involved in making magic of his own, and did not notice.

In seconds, she had finished the “Spell of Seeing,” and viewed him backwards in time.....further....further......until she was looking at him exactly as he was that day on the river.....

“.....Kane noticed it first, but he was always more sensitive to those kinds of things. His mother had been a soothsayer in the forest-city Tharn. I started to say something, but he put a hand over my mouth just before I would have given our position away. I felt it a second later....a presence......a pressure. And when it passed over us, it left me feeling....dirty somehow. I looked up and saw it.....well...you couldn’t exactly see it, but if you looked just right, out of the corner of your eye, there was a shadow. A Steppe Wraithe.”

Several people in the crowd sat bolt upright at the mere mention of the Wraithes. The most vile and fearsome creatures out in the Wild Lands. Mothers clutched their children a little more closely, and several of the men scanned the night with searching eyes. As if scared that somehow, the mere mention of them was enough to bring them out. The Story-Weaver waited a moment, and then continued.

“The beast floated right across the river and down to the wagon. The horses nearly died of fright, but whoever was in the driver’s seat was a master handler. He kept them reined in as the Wraithe drew closer. Whoever he was, he was a cocky little fellow....as the creature got closer, he tied the reins off and set the brake, then hopped down like he was greeting his mother-in-law.”

A few of the men chuckled at this, and several of the women shot them disapproving looks. Good, Geoffen thought. The tension was getting a little thick.

“He walked right past the driver and looked inside the wagon for a moment, then opened the door. Someone was inside, bound and gagged. We couldn’t tell who it was right then, but the Wraithe yanked her out roughly, and we saw that it was a woman....”

He paused again, staring deeply into the flames, his voice falling away further still, forcing his audience to lean forward to hear him over the crackle of the fire. “I fell in love with her right then….the moment I saw her.” A tear rolled down his cheek, and from her vantage point in the wagon, Annabelle saw it, and shed a tear of her own. A tear of deep, abiding joy.

“She had this look about her....scared but....defiant.....and she was beautiful.” He shook his head, as if correcting himself. “She was covered in grease and mud....her white gown was torn and smeared, and she had mud in her hair....but even though that, I could see how truly beautiful she was. Breath-taking.”

“The Wraithe seemed to study her for a moment and then jerked her roughly to him, folding his shadowy arms around her and carrying her back across the river. I didn’t know what to make of it....never seen anything like that in all my life. But Kane had this look on his face that said he knew exactly what was going on. I wanted to ask him right then of course, but I couldn’t. If the Wraithe had detected our presence, we’d have been killed for sure.”

From the looks on everyone’s face, they didn’t doubt it.

“So we stayed real still and quiet until we were sure it was gone, and then sat up to talk about it....he told me that he recognized the girl....that she used to come play with him when they were children, and that she studied under his mother for a time. It was the Enchantress of the Silver River.”

At the mention of the elusive Enchantress, eyes went wide all-round. Everyone knew the tale.....how the Dark Lords crowed about their victory to the Trentan King and Counsel. How they bragged that the Enchantress had been captured and would be used against them, first to reduce the city of Tar’khasis to rubble, and then on to the capitol itself. But those attacks never materialized, and no one seemed to know why. An electric current was running through the crowd now....binding them all together. Riveting them in their spots.

-=Vel=-
(to be continued....)

[Velociryx]

“Well, all of a sudden it made sense to me, and Kane saw the look on my face. He knew I was in love with her....I remember him telling me that an Enchantress was not quite Human....and that it was a mistake for me to love her....but one look into those eyes, and I couldn’t help myself. So we fought about it for a little while, and finally, when he saw that I was going to try to rescue her with or without him, he eased back. Even offered to help me, finally. Told me we’d have to travel north, until we got into the fringes of the North Woods, where the River Trolls dwell. There, we would find a Troll named Vrak’enall Thael, who might be able to help us...and that’s just what we did....making double time too, because we had no idea where the Wraithe might be taking her.”

This tale was filled with marvels of all kinds indeed. No one had seen or heard much from the River Trolls in more than ten years. They seemed to be growing more elusive than ever.

“Took us three days to get to the land of the River Trolls, and they greeted us warmly. We traded stories about the Dark Lords, and then asked to see Vrak’enall. They showed us the way, but we had to swim to get there.....he lived in a cave in the river. I was scared that maybe the Trolls didn’t understand that we couldn’t do like they did....breathe both air and water, but we were okay....I was nervous on the way there though, I can tell you.”

He smiled and shook his head, remembering. Then his face grew darker. Somber.

“Have you ever heard of the “Ritual of the Pit?”” He asked those around the fire. No one nodded that he had, so the Story-Weaver nodded. “It’s important that you understand. Not just anyone can kill a Wraithe. You have to be anointed to do it. Most Priests have it within them to do it, and a few Trackers are born to it naturally, it seems, but beyond that, almost no one can. Vrak’enall told us that in order to even stand a chance, we’d have to endure the ritual.” Geoffen closed his eyes and shuddered. “I can’t even begin to describe it to you....and I don’t want to.” He swallowed hard. “Some things are best left untold.”

He was silent for a long moment. Head bowed. “It lasted a whole week. Kane and I went into the pit together. I was the only one who came out.” He was crying now, soft sobs wracking his body. “Kane was like a brother to me....and he hadn’t really wanted to go....he only went because I was being stubborn....he paid for my stubbornness with his life.”

He took a moment to compose himself, and during that time, Annabelle sat sobbing quietly in the wagon. She remembered playing with Kane as a child....how large he was even then, and yet how gentle. She remembered several farm boys picking on her one time when she had accidentally used her powers around them. They were frightened of her, and threw rocks to keep her away, and Kane was there. Shielding her body from the stones with his own. And though they cut him badly, left him swollen and bruised, he had never cried out. He bore it in stoic silence. That was how she remembered him.

Years later, it broke her heart to hear that he had not made it out of the Pit of Serpents and Nightmares....where he and Geoffen had been subjected to repeated snake bites and then made to.....she shuddered......shouldn’t even think about it. Suddenly she understood all too well why Geoffen had decided to leave certain details out of his story.....he was absolutely right....some things really were better left untold.

But, her life-mate had recovered somewhat, as she heard him talking again, so she dried her eyes and continued to listen to his tale.

“....Took my cutlass back and looked it over. It didn’t look any different to me, but Vrak’enall told me it’d do the trick. Well, I was still half delirious from the ritual, so I just shrugged and took it....then headed off.”

“Sure enough, it was just like he said....thanks to my time in the pit, I was all of a sudden really sensitive to magical things....and as you might expect, the Enchantress of the Silver River has a lot of magic in her. I felt like a hunting hound with my nose to the ground....and I felt myself getting closer to her….every day bringing me closer.”

He put his pipe aside and stretched his legs. “Finally, I wound up at Westgate....which was, even then, one of the largest cities in the Kingdom. Lord Mourngrym put up one hell of a fight to keep it out of the hands of the enemies of the Kingdom…had some help from a few of the Wizards who managed to escape the Dark Lords, but it wasn’t enough….they eventually chased him out of the city and sent him packing toward Castillar lands to regroup. It was a big victory for the Dark Lords, and they set Westgate up as their Capitol, and as I looked up at those walls, I kept wondering how I was gonna get inside. My cutlass might let me hurt the durned beast, and my nose might lead me right to the Enchantress....but I was still just me....just one Borderman, and I wasn’t too keen on going up and ringing the bell to take ‘em all on at once.....guess I just don’t have Sevren Redbeard’s fighting spirit.”

That eased the tension back a bit, and several of the men laughed softly.

“Finally, I reckoned that the best way for me to sneak in was through the sewers.”

Several of the children wrinkled their noses, and the boy with the unruly hair exclaimed “Eeeeewwwww!” loudly. Geoffen smiled and then chuckled at that.

“You read my mind, young man.” He said, shaking his head. “I got in that way, but in all honesty, if I had to do it over again, I think I would have just gone up to he front gate....and if any of you doubt me on this, I invite you to go just ten feet inside the sewer tunnels.....you’ll change your minds quick enough....and imagine if you were in there for nine hours....sometimes having to dive under the water to get to a grate or somesuch....but that was the way I figured to get in, so that’s what I did.”

“And once I was in the city, I guess I should have hurried right along to try and rescue the lady, but lookin’ like I did, and smellin’ like I did, I wasn’t sure she would come with me....so I had to stop for a bath...but you know...I’m a Borderman....I’m in uniform.....and this is an enemy-held town. I can’t very well walk to the Inn and ask for a bath and a pint of ale....but I figured the horses wouldn’t talk much, so I took a bath in the trough....didn’t think I was ever gonna get the smell off me, but I finally did. It was almost midnight though, and I knew I had to get the lead out if I was gonna rescue the Lady and try and figure a way out of the city.”

“My original plan was to take her back out through the sewer tunnels, but I wasn’t sure if I could stomach another trip through that, and besides, it wasn’t a very good “first date” if you parents know what I mean.” He winked at them collectively, and drew some smiles. The tension had eased back considerably now, and that was a good thing, because it was about to come right back at them.

“But I figured I’d worry on it later, and work on just gettin’ in there and rescuing her....so that’s what I did. I put my nose to the ground and followed the magic until I found the building.....can you believe it, the Wraithe was using the town Jail as his office! I look in the window and all of a sudden I can see him better....because of the pit, the River Trolls told me.....and he didn’t look all that tough anymore. I could see him real good, and what he looked like to me was a big, fat, shadowy Nilrogg with a hood on. Still, I knew he was fast and powerful, so I had to be careful.”

“I walked all around the Jail, trying to figure on the best way to get inside. It didn’t look too easy. There she was....the Enchantress, in one of the cells. She was still tied up and gagged. The keys were sitting on the desk, but so was the Wraithe. There were a couple of windows, but no way to sneak in them without the Wraithe seeing me. I was starting to get nervous....and then I remembered taking a bath, and that made me think about horses.”

He stood now, and put his hands on his hips....a smile spreading across his face.

“I went to the nearest Inn, and back into their stables....found fourteen horses in there, and saddled them all up. Then went out and picked some cockle-burs, and set them up under the saddles.....let me tell you, those horses didn’t like that one bit. I was planning on trying to get them out of the barn and letting them tear through the streets, but they had other ideas....they kicked and screamed, trying to get those burs off....wound up knocking over a lantern and starting a fire.....then they ran out into the street all by themselves. You would not believe how much noise fourteen upset horses can make, but I think the whole town stood up on its ear for a little while.....and I was pretty tickled with myself, so I started sneaking back to the Jail, while everybody else was running around trying to figure what was going on....not to mention that they had a fire to put out now....”

“When I got to the Jail, I had a surprise waiting for me....it was empty! Well, not empty I guess, the Enchantress was still in there, and so were the keys, but the Wraithe had gone somewhere else. Maybe he went out to see the horses, but I don’t know why. All he would have done was scared them worse. It’s not like he coulda calmed them down or anything.”

“So anyway, I walk in, pretty as you please and grab the keys, then unlock the cell door and let the pretty lady out. It took me a while to get the shackles off of her ‘cause there were so many keys on the blasted key ring, but finally I did...and she thanked my with a kiss.”

Several of the men and women smiled at this, while most of the children wrinkled their noses in distaste.

Geoffen smiled again and looked to the young ones.

“Oh....right now you might not that that’s much of a reward....but trust me children....one day, you will see it different. The day will come when you would rather have just one kiss from a pretty lady or a handsome man than a whole wagon full of gold.” Again, nods and smiles from the parents. Geoffen was pleased.

“And that’s how it was when the enchantress kissed me. Right then, that was the whole world for me. Nothing else mattered.” In between kisses, she told me that she could get us out, but that she needed a little bit of time...the shackles they had on her absorbed her magic, and she needed a bit of time to....recharge herself I guess....I am just a simple man, and I don’t know much about that sort of thing. All I knew was, here was a pretty lady who needed my help, and I wasn’t about to let her down.....”

Annabelle’s tears were gone now, and she found herself smiling. She remembered those kisses, and was never quite sure what made her do it. She hadn’t fallen in love with him right then, but there had been something about him. A look of determination in his eyes. A look that told her he was willing to do whatever it took to make her safe. And that determination alone had made her feel safe. Plus the fact that she was instantly comfortable with him. It was like they had known each other a thousand years....and then there was the fact that he was rather dashing....she sighed.....okay, no use in denying it....it had been love at first sight for her too....she giggled like a school girl, and her laughter still had the musical quality of a young lady in it.....oh, but her life-mate was talking again....time to listen to the story.

“....So we were walking through the city streets....keeping to the shadows as much as we could, trying to stay out of sight until the Enchantress had enough of her magic back to get us out of there....I was so proud of myself. The town was all in chaos, several buildings had caught fire, and I was escorting the beautiful Lady away from it all....I should have known our luck wouldn’t hold out.”

He looked at the faces in the crowd, wondering what they might do to him if he tried to stop telling the tale now.....tar and feathers came to mind, as did a number of even less appealing torments and tortures. He smiled faintly to himself, drawing courage from that act. Steeling himself. This was the hardest part for him.
He drew in a deep breath and continued.

“We had to pass right through the town square if we wanted to keep moving. The Enchantress leaned over and whispered in my ear that she might have enough magic in her to get us through that....there were guards everywhere....so she held onto my arm and cast the “Spell of Unseeing” on us both. It felt tingly to me, and made me want to sneeze, having the magic used on me....first time I had ever felt it....like that anyway, and it was great, let me tell you! We walked right through the middle of the square, hundreds of troops and guards milling around, and not one of them paid us any mind. I even used a couple of.....ummm.....creative hand gestures as we walked by some of them. Nothing. Not even the Nilrogg scouts took notice. Not the slightest reaction from anybody. They really couldn’t see us! That made me smile. I started to laugh, but the Lady boxed my ears.....then whispered to me that just because they couldn’t see us didn’t mean they couldn’t hear us....I hadn’t thought of that, but from then on, I was a lot more careful.”

“We were about a block past the town square when it happened. I felt that slimy presence again and knew the Wraithe was close by, and it made me grip my cutlass more firmly....getting ready, just in case.”

“Apparently, the Enchantress felt it too, and it must have made her nervous or lose her concentration or something, because all of a sudden people were shouting and pointing at us....running our way. I knew they could see us, and it scared Hades out of me, because we were almost surrounded....Only thing I could think to do was run down the alley we were closest to and hope that it led someplace, so that’s what we did. I grabbed her arm and we ran just as fast as we could.”

He pictured Annabelle, sitting in the trailer listening.....conjured up the image of her face in his mind’s eye, and tears began glistening in his eyes. Oh, how he loved her. And talking about her in pain....that was almost more then he could bear. But it was important to the story, so he continued.

“We hadn’t taken three steps before the Enchantress let out a scream of pain and fell. For a second, I couldn’t figure what was wrong, but then I saw a flicker of orange on her dress, and almost got sick to my stomach. Fire....” He shuddered. “Those bastards had shot her through the thigh with a barbed crossbow bolt, coated in burning pitch.” He bowed his head for a moment, the sounds of her screams echoing so clearly in his mind. Haunting. Tormenting.

It was almost a full minute before he could continue.

“I did the best I could.....couldn’t pull the bolt out, so I put the fire out, and then picked her up and carried her on down the alley....but it was no use. It was a dead end, and I knew that instead of saving her, I was going to be the death of her. “

“So I sat her down on an iron-bound barrel and turned ‘round. Already there were people running down the alley toward us, and I could see more crossbowmen taking up positions on the roof....just waiting for a shot.”

“There was a hissing noise behind me, and then a blue light came up in front of me....like a shield. I looked round, and saw the Enchantress holding up her hands.....working her magic again. She was pale and the look in her eyes said the pain was almost more than she could take, but she was still working her magic, trying to save us.”

“She told me that the shield would stop the crossbow bolts (or rocks, or arrows, or any other flying object) from hitting us, and asked me if I could hold the swordsmen off for just a little while longer, until she built up the energy for some kind of spell to get us out of the alley. I nodded and told her that if I couldn’t, then I’d die trying....that answer seemed good enough for her, so I turned back around to get ready.”

“It’s a hard thing when you are out-numbered. There’s a lot more to think about than when it’s a one-on-one fight. Lots of things can happen and change. Not to mention the blood....gets slippery.” He shook the images from his head for a moment.

“I won’t go on too long about it, but let’s just say that the first two men to come up were coming too fast, and I was able to get inside their guard before they caused me much trouble....had to back up a bit to make more room, and I tried to kick ‘em out of the way, but more were coming….three this time, and they were more careful. They drew up short of me, and then stalked closer. Like panthers. But they had never fought together before, and so their attacks weren’t coordinated, two of them charged forward at the same time and got in each other’s way....I didn’t give them a second chance, but the other fellow sneaked in and slashed my arm pretty good.”

-=Vel=-
(to be continued....)

[Velociryx]

The men, especially were interested in this part, but Geoffen knew that the women and children would not be. It was a delicate balancing act, trying to gauge when and where to stop. That’s why he loved his craft so.

“Anyway, I don’t know how long that kept on....felt like forever. Men came up to kill me and the Enchantress, and I knew that I was the only thing standing in the way of them and that pretty Lady behind me, so I fought with everything I had, and that alley started filling up pretty good. Everything was all slippery with blood. Most of it wasn’t mine, but some of it was, and it was starting to take it’s toll on me. Both my arms were cut up, and my sword arm was getting sluggish. I knew it wouldn’t be long before somebody got lucky on me, and then it would be all over.”

“‘Bout the same time I thought that, the Lady let out this surprised scream. For a second, I thought that her shield had disappeared and another crossbow bolt had bit into her, so I risked a look around, and there it was. The Wraithe. He had floated down from the roof above us and grabbed her. With all the fighting going on, I didn’t even feel him.”

“I don’t know what came over me, but I knew I had to do something drastic, or she was gonna die. We both were. So I spin back around and charge right into the two men coming up on me. Took one fellow’s longsword right out of his hands, and ended them both. I think they were so surprised that they couldn’t do anything, and that’s how I took them so easy. But there were more coming, so I drew back and threw the longsword at the next closest. I’d like to tell you that it killed him, but the truth of it was that it popped him in the head, pommel first and split his lip pretty good. Other than that, it didn’t do much at all. But that was all the time I had, so I turned back around and charged up to the Wraithe. I think it was surprised too.....usually people ran away from it, not right up to it....but that creature was hurting the Enchantress, and all I could see were those pretty eyes clouded with pain, so I ran up and raised my cutlass.”

“I don’t even think the Wraithe knew I could hurt him until the blade bit home, and by then it was too late. The first cut was a deep one, and even though he didn’t bleed, I knew I’d hurt him bad, and I didn’t want to give him the chance to recover from it, so I started slashing at him, just as fast and furious as I could. That beast made a howl like I have never heard before….I tell you right now, it would silence a whole pack of wolves, it was so frightening.”

Geoffen looked down into the fire. It was low now, little more than crackling embers, and his story was nearly at an end. Not quite, but nearly.

“What happened then, Old’pa? One of the older children asked sleepily. “How did you get away?”

He looked back up at their faces, and caught the faint whiff of caramel apples coming from the back of the wagon. Cleared his throat and continued. “Well, I took a little too much time with the Wraithe, but I wanted to make sure he never got up again. So I kept on him until the Lady screamed for me to turn around....see I was so caught up in taking care of the Wraithe that I forgot about the men in the alley. So I turned around as fast as I could, but it wasn’t fast enough. Soon as I turned around, I looked down and there’s a longsword sticking into my gut, and I’m looking into the eyes of the Dark Lord’s War Captain.”

“Lucian Pitch?” A voice from the dark asked quietly.

“The same.” Geoffen responded softly.

If the name Sevren Redbeard was the most famous name in all of Trentare, then Lucian Pitch was the most infamous. Called “the Impaler,” (and all manner of other nicknames), Lucian Pitch was responsible for some of the most horrible stories in all the Wars. He was cruel and vicious, and greatly feared. Mere mention of his name was sometimes enough to make men flee from the battlefield.

“So there I was, with Lucian Pitch’s sword sticking in my belly, and I thought, ‘Well....it’s all over.’ I tried o’course. Lucian un-stuck me and danced backwards, and I followed him, cutlass in one hand, the other keeping my insides where they belonged. Actually got lucky once, cut his thigh. I guess he wasn’t expecting a low blow, but I was staggering like a drunk at that point.” He touched the scar under his eye. “He got me back for it though.....gave me this for my troubles. I’ll tell you, the man was good, and you wouldn’t believe anyone could be so fast.”

“He was playing with me. I only touched him once, and he could have finished me any old time, but he was playing. Taking his time, and I kept thinking.....that’s right.....you go ahead. As long as I can keep standing....long as I can keep on taking what you’re dishing out, that’s buying the Lady behind me a little more time to get her magic ready. So I followed him….let him play. Did my best to protect myself, but he cut me anyway. I could hear the Lady behind me, screaming and yelling about something, but I couldn’t understand the words. Kinda sounded like when somebody talks to you and you got your head under the water. That’s how it was then....but real slowly, I made out what she was saying. She was telling me to come closer to her. I took a quick look back, and got cut again for my trouble, to see that I had come about halfway out of the alley. So real slowly, I started backing toward the Lady again....and Lucian followed me. Still dancing out of the way of my thrusts, and giving me little nicks an’ reminders.”

“As I get closer to her, I can hear better, and she’s crying. Frustrated. I was hurt bad and she knew it. There was love in her voice and in her tears, and I think that’s the only thing that kept me going backwards. Closer and closer to her.”

“And just like that, it was all over. I took one more step backwards and felt my whole body tingle. The Lady yelled something at Lucian Pitch and the men behind him, and then the world went black.”

He was silent until the crowd could stand it no longer. The questions began flying. “What happened then? How did you survive? Where did you go? Whatever became of the Enchantress?” And Geoffen smiled at them. Raised his hands.

“I will answer your questions.” He said with a chuckle, and the crowd settled back down, waiting for more.

“I woke up almost a week later in Brom. The Lady had drawn me there to see the services of a band of Healers she was on good terms with, and it was they who tended to my wounds, and hers, and nursed us both back to good health. I found out later that more than a third of Westgate had burned to the ground. Seems like something caused one hell of a fire in one of the alley ways. I asked the Enchantress about it, and she just ran her fingers through my hair and told me that the men who hurt me would never hurt anybody again. I left it at that. It was a good enough answer for me.”

“I recovered from my wounds, but my days in the Border Guard were over. I’d seen way too much killing in my time, and needed to get away from it. So I retired, and married the Lady I had rescued. She didn’t seem to care that I was a little rough around the edges....didn’t seem to mind that my family was made up of tenant farmers while hers were high society people. So that’s what we did. Got married.”

He smiled and stretched. Dusted himself off.

“Where is she now, Old’pa?” The child with the unruly hair asked him with wide eyes.

Geoffen turned back around. Smiled at the assembled crowd. “What? Would you like to meet her? The Enchantress of the Silver River?”

As one, they nodded their assent, and he smiled.

“Well as it happens, I believe she has just about finished making some caramel apples, so if you’d care to join us....”

He walked ‘round to the back of the wagon and the curtain parted. Slender arms handed down a huge tray stacked high with caramel apples, which Geoffen took and passed to one of the men-folk who had come up behind him. Looking around, he saw that the entire crowd had come up to form a semi-circle around the back of the wagon.

Another tray of apples came from the back of the wagon. And a third. Geoffen turned to face the crowd once more. “My good, gentle folk of Aard, my I present my Annabelle, Enchantress of the Silver River.”

And with that the curtain parted, and Annabelle stepped out. Her ancient eyes smiling and dancing just as Geoffen’s were. He held a hand out to help her out of the wagon, and many of those present took note that she was very careful with her left leg. When she was on the ground with them, she waved to the trays. “Please....help yourselves to some apples....enjoy.” The children piled up first, with the women behind them, and the men taking up the rear, but many of the adults stayed to look at and talk to these two priceless artifacts from another time. They regarded them with wonder, asked them questions, and sat with rapt attention when they got their answers. Annabelle and Geoffen’s eyes sparkled merrily. This was the very reason they had chosen the life that they had. This was what it was all about.

And as the evening wore on, Annabelle left them with one final image. Casting more of her essence into the night, she expanded the “Spell of Seeing” to the whole crowd, taking them back and back and back, until they looked upon the Geoffen and Annabelle of the story they had just heard. Young. Vibrant. Basking in the glow of a newfound love. And it lit up the faces of everyone who witnessed it.

Then, with a faint tinkling sound like far off bells, they vanished into the night. The wagon, Geoffen, and Annabelle. A woman’s delighted laughter floating on the air after they had gone. Leaving the townsfolk of Aard alone in the clearing by the river, with some delicious caramel apples.

-=Vel=-