Young Writers Society

He sifted through the maps and papers littering Marlon Grey’s desk, trying to get a feel for the man. He’d given up pursuit of his quarry in favor of greener pastures (or so he said; for honestly, he had simply lost the trail over the rocky mountainous terrain), and had instead made his way to Gor Nathal to “resupply.” He plopped back into Grey’s chair and smiled satisfactorily, picking up a pair of troop reports before kicking his heels up onto the entire pile.

He and Grey had met briefly during the coup of Gor Nathal, in which the latter had led an overt rebellion to usurp power from the corrupt dictator. In the process, they had disrupted Eamon’s own covert operations, to which he could only offer a shrug and a smile. The two had nearly crossed blades during the final confrontation in the dictator’s keep. He smiled at the memory; having filled his pouches with plans, letters, baubles from the Dictator’s personal stash, the operative had been making his way through the keep to avoid Marlon’s assault.

He underestimated the cunning mercenary, though, for he nearly ran headlong into them through a side passage on his way out. He and his protege instantly drew steel, and Eamon could do naught but throw his arms up in surrender, for he knew they would not accept his story, despite its truth. He eventually won the mercenary over, as he often did, and was allowed to work with them. He played a secondary role (as he often did), but by the end he had gained Grey’s respect.

When the dust had settled, Eamon was invited to join Grey for the celebration.

“You know, you're a pretty good fighter. We could use you in the Ghosts. Stick around." the man had said.

Eamon had only smiled and said, "I'd love to, mate, but the new city needs someone that'll keep it together--not tear it apart."

Marlon grimaced. “That’s me, isn’t it?”

“One would hope so, gent.” After everything was said and done, Eamon faded into obscurity, with Grey as the only person to even know his name.

And now, Eamon found himself similarly in the chambers of a leader, albeit a much better one than previously. He sunk into the chair and tossed the paper back onto the desk; there were so many there already that he doubted Grey would notice the difference.

He let his fingers dance across the arm of Marlon's chair, admiring the carved oak.

"Not bad," he mused. "You've surprisingly good taste...and here I thought you were just another dirty mercenary."

"That’s quite a compliment, coming from you." The door to Grey's office swing open and the man himself stepped through, apparently calm despite Eamon's intrusion.

Eamon smiled, bringing a gloved hand up to his forehead in a two-fingered salute. "Nice t’see you again, Commander Grey."

"And yourself, Eamon." Grey was dirty. His fine mail armor was spattered with flecks of crimson, and his hair had obviously been hurriedly slicked back with a grimy hand before he entered the room.

He merely smiled in reply, dropping his feet off the desk and climbing out of Grey’s chair.

“I was wondering when you’d be back.”

“Couldn’t keep away, acourse. Yer charismatic magnetism drew me.” Eamon peered over Grey’s shoulder to see two heavily armed mercenaries standing just outside the doorway, looking primed to kill. Marlon wasn’t as foolish as his casual demeanor would suggest, apparently. Eamon shot a wink to the duo; he was almost positive that the one on the right might even be decently attractive, underneath the many layers of blood, grime and armor.

Marlon smiled politely, as a monarch might for a visiting subject. “I take it you need something from the Ghosts?”

Eamon shook his head slightly, his beret bobbing slightly.

“Nay, you misunderstand my intent. From the look of the army to the South, you’re the one in need, mate.” Eamon’s tone was jovial, his smile genuine, but the words were deadly serious.

“Do you refer to your services, or something more exotic?”

“The Lorokans are as far North as the capital city. A small force has even bypassed it in favor of heading into the mountains. T’would benefit you to find out why, methinks. Mutual respect, of course, demands that I inform you.” Eamon looked down at Grey’s desk and spun his fingers, a small metal jack dropping from his hands and onto the desk, spinning in perfect balance.

“In other words, you lost a small force and you want my troops to find them and kill them, pro-bono.”

“Nothing the Ghosts do is free. Do you work in the currency of revenge?” The jack on the desk wobbled a moment before spinning to a stop, its multiple points coming to rest on the oak.

“Revenge is expensive. My soldiers don’t feed their families with revenge,” Marlon said, looking out the window. His bodyguards didn’t lift their gaze from Eamon. “Which part of the mountains did you say they were heading toward?” Marlon asked, almost conversationally. Eamon knew better, and smirked..

“Gor Kadesh is no more. They rode Northwest from there; my boots started to get rather muddy,” Eamon lifted one boot and showed it to Marlon; spotless, as usual. “So I came t’you, the dirtiest people I know.”

“There is a pass Northwest of Gor Kadesh. It’s a tricky road. Merchants haven’t used it in a long while because of that. You could get a scouting force in there easily enough. I can mark your map, for a small price.”

Eamon grinned and spread his hands out in front of him, palms up. “I have no scouting force. What good is the location of a merchant road to a simple man such as myself? I merely thought a small, guerrilla force deep in allied territory might be...relevant.”

“What makes you think they’re guerrillas?” Marlon asked.

“A hunch.” Eamon smiled. “A feeling.”

Marlon shook his head and opened his mouth to deny him, but Eamon played his first card.

“A battlemage.”

“No one sends a battlemage anywhere unless they’re up to something. And the Lorokans aren’t up to anything good.”

“This particular battlemage likes to level towns in his free time.”

“They’re dead, nothing can change that. Supposing you had some help, do you think you could figure out what those goons are up to?”

“My boots are rather muddy as it is. And my cloak...” Eamon poked a finger through the little gash in his cape and wiggled it at Marlon, his lips curled into their customary pout.

“You can get both from my Quartermaster for a small fee, or you could join the Ghosts and get them for free. My Quartermaster can be quite expensive come to think of it...”

Eamon laughed aloud. Not necessary, mate. You don’t need to bribe me to help you. I’m not a mercenary, after all.” He looked slyly at Grey.

“Something which I hope to rectify presently.”

Eamon shrugged. “I’ll try anything once. I’d be a fool refuse Imperial gold, now wouldn’t I?”

“Fair enough. Ira!” Marlon called.

Ira, Eamon noted mentally, mouthing the word carefully.

“Yes, Commander?” The woman that Eamon had noted before spoke without taking her strong gaze off him.

“I’m ready to talk to the messenger now. Once you get him here, take Eamon to the Officer’s Barracks. I’m sure he’s...tired.”

Eamon winked and saluted Ira, plucking his jack from the desk and setting it a'twirl once more.

Dsar stepped forward and placed her hand on the bar, surprising herself with the vehemence she felt. The girl from the tavern was crouched on a solitary stool in the corner, looking up at them with large, black eyes. This girl had to be freed, immediately. Glancing down, she quickly found the lock and abruptly knelt down to inspect it. It was a pretty basic mechanism: big ol' key and rather rusty, nothing difficult. At all. She turned back to the group and smirked.

"I got this one, guys. No need for any more mumbo-jumbo." She gave them a pointed look and her fingers absentmindedly brushed her scar as she turned back, eyes set and determined at the lock. She slipped out a tool from a loop on her belt and tapped at the lock with her other hand, listening to the sound of the metal before setting the tool to it.

Luci came up behind her and hissed, "Dsar, we don't have time for this asinine lock-picking. Just give me a moment; I'll heat it up, freeze it down, and it'll just shatter. Believe it or not, there are less barbaric ways in the world." She smirked and pulled back her long sleeves.

But, before Luci even began to act, there was a small click and Dsar stood again, open lock dangling from a finger like bait.

Luci flicked her sleeves back over her hands in irritation. She eyes shot daggers, but she said nothing. The rest of the group rushed forward to the girl, who was calmly gathering herself from the stool. They grabbed her elbows and tried to help her out, when she suddenly lost the calm she'd kept before, and recoiled before making a full-fledged scramble out the door before anyone else could touch her. Kade and Doris exchanged looks and headed out after her. Dsar waited outside and tried to cover the concern she was feeling in her typical blank expression; the girl looked shaken up. Dsarnoted with some surprised that her ears, just barely visible in the dark to ever her eyes, were pointed. Another elf. She studied her while Kade and Doris came, interrupted only by Luci.

"We've got the girl, can we go now? I'm bored." She sat up against the cool metal wall opposite them, looking at the fabric of her robes absentmindedly. Dsar glared at her and quickly made towards the exit, falling into step with the newcomer.

Cellardor

The lock popped open and the quartet burst in. A seed of panic burst in her mind. They where moving towards her, closer, closer and closer... Something inside her clicked, memories she would rather forget. They approached and the panic began to take over, her heart pounding out of her chest. Their hands went for her arms, their grabbing hands, dirty grabbing hands. She launched herself forward, her usually lithe body exploding out of the cell. Finding solace in the cool metal walls.

She closed her eyes, breathing slowly in and out. Her heart rate slowed. Her eyes flickered open, they where looking at her. The elf, reading her face like a open book. Cellardor turned away, their eyes, their faces confusing and confronting.

"We've got the girl, can we go now? I'm bored," said the elemental mage. Cellardor blinked, she could sense her power, an evoker of her stature was not a common sight but then again neither where any of her rescuers. She had memories of her father calling upon storms, calling upon the dead. The group began to move. She quickly followed behind falling into step with the other elf.

"Thank you, you saved me from an unfortunate fate," she whispered to the elf, in the dark she could make a out a faint smile. She brushed her hair out of here eyes, feeling empty with out her harp. She remembered the brutes taking her belongings down with her. She thanked her father for his foresight, the enchanted harp could easily located. She blew a light note waiting for the faint rebound. " Please, we have to go this way, my belongings are stashed there," she said quietly, pointing to the right. The tall man turned a nodded leading the small group down a narrow corridor. Her shoulder brushed against the chill stone walls but she could hear it the sound fast approaching. They stood at the entrance as she rummaged though the selves, her heart singing as fer fingers stroked the smooth wood of her bow. She closed her eyes smiling, everything was going to be okay. Her mind blank as the sounds of fighting rose on the outside.

Malik

The aftermath of the brief skirmish was somewhat of a haze for him. Later, he couldn't really remember how he went from discharging his crossbow at close distance into another living creature to the interiors of Gor Nathal. He remembered vague conversations of introduction amongst scattered dead bodies, being subsumed into the cohort of cavalry and escorted, but he didn't remember walking up this staircase. It was like he was dreaming. Gleam loyally by his side as always, even as she desperately needed medical attention, the fall from her horse had damaged her more than she knew. He keenly inspected her barely perceptible limp, the way her right arm kept a close guard on her ribs and the glazed look in her eyes. Concussion, definitely; broken ribs, undoubtedly; other unknown injuries, hopefully not.

They were escorted by a man and a woman with jarring personalities. Malik had forgotten both of their names; rather, he had forgotten even meeting them. The man was fair-haired, dressed like a fop and tried to hard to make jokes, especially after both Malik and Gleam had almost died. It was his strange way, Malik supposed. Nonetheless, Malik felt there was something more to the well-dressed mercenary that met the eye. The woman, a brunette with strong arms and plain clothes, seemed opposed to the preconceptions of her gender and walked and talked like a soldier. She frowned at the man's jokes and walked them quickly and efficiently through the labyrinth of corridors and staircases.

At the top of another gruelling staircase, Gleam panting with pain, Malik himself tired, his legs still rough from days of hard riding, they approached a set of doors with two tall, bulky guards, who immediately waved them on when they saw who they were. The doors creaked open and revealed a modest quarters, where a window showed a glimpse of a terrific view.

Inside, two men eyed their arrival. Both were young. The whole fortress was full of bloodthirsty youth, Malik mused, with barely a grey hair among them. His joints reminded him he was an old man in war, the game of the young.

"This is him?" said one of the men, behind a desk full of scrolls and parchment.

"Yes, Commander," the woman said, and nodded as she looked at Malik, indicating he should approach.

"My gratitude, Ira," the Commander said, with a brief smile. "Eamon, we'll speak ... soon."

The tall, lean man with long black hair and an assortment of stylish clothes that made Malik's foppish escort look unfashionable grinned at him as he slinked out of the room with Ira. There was something disconcerting about this Eamon, Malik thought, and totalled up the number of unknowns in his head, a number rapidly increasing. The whole castle was full of unquantifiable persons.

"My name is Marlon Grey and I command Gor Nathal," the Commander said. "I hear you have had an eventful journey."

"Ah yes," Malik replied, "I forgot in this part of the world you like to call a journey where we could have died numerous times 'eventful'. It is a cultural curiosity."

"We can remark on cultural differences, later, my friend, I think."

Malik sensed the impatience of the man and reached into his sweaty chest to find the letter they had almost died to bring here. He handed it over to Marlon who grasped it with intent.

Marlon opened the letter and read. As he read, he began to feel bad for the messenger. He had ridden far and nearly lost his life to deliver him information which he had known about for days. All around Anaphis, the Grey Ghosts had agents with signal mirrors who communicated messages back and forth. It might take a rider three days to communicate what a mirror could in a few minutes. The message, when you eliminated all the spiritual mysticism, translated to "Karniss is under siege, can you send help?" The process took no time at all.

Marlon looked at the messengers.

"Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do at the moment. Another Lorokan army is coming to attack Gor Nathal, we can not spare any units from the defense of Gor Nathal to relieve Karniss."

"Except the one which you'll be leading to find the beacon," a coy female voice whispered softly in his ear. Marlon spun around, but no one was there.

"Nobody leave, Ira, the door," Marlon said as he drew his sword. Silas and Ira also drew swords, not knowing why. She shut the door as Eamon took a seat.

"I know you're here and I know I heard you. Show yourself!" Marlon commanded. There was silence. Then, a violent gust blew through the open window. The papers in the room swirled around inside the vortex. The two messengers took shelter in one part of the room, while Silas, Eamon, and Ira were on the other. Only Marlon remained standing, his sword drawn. The seemingly random movement of the paper became organized, the sheets began to bend into shapes, and when the wind finally died down, there was a figure of a lady created by the paper in the room. The face of the figure was made from the letter Malik had given Marlon, with a difference. Where before it had lavish writing on it; it now appeared as a painting, that shifted on the paper. Marlon had never seen anything like it before. The lady turned to the messengers.

"You have done well by delivering me. Your injuries are healed and your aches are gone," the Lady said. There was no light, no magic, but Marlon perceived that they had indeed been healed. Marlon sheathed his sword; he felt it wouldn't do anything against the lady; even if she was a threat. Marlon's focus had returned.

"I know of no beacon," Marlon said.

"But you have. In the Royal Library all those years ago. You read about the light at the end of the world. I know, I placed the book where you could see it." the Lady whispered conspiratorially.

"That was a fairy tale," Marlon said.

"Then you're a part of a fairy tale. Head North, there you will find Kade. He will help you find the Lost Kingdom, where the beacon is. Light the beacon. Waste no more time, but leave immediately," the Lady said. The papers figure fell apart and scattered around the room. The room was silent once more.

"Ira, get a group together. We'll be leaving immediately," Marlon said.

Hey I'm sorry but I can't do his anymore: got a bad term grade and parents are cracking down on my schooling.

Silas Quinn

It wasn't until the Lady had gone that Quinn felt he could breathe again and the first thing that came out of his mouth was a snarl. Magic. There wasn't much his talents could do against spiritual entities and so he had good reason to distrust it. Even when it seemed to be siding in their favour, seemed harmless and seemed to be advising them, he still didn't trust it. The world was better off without magic wielders getting involved. He didn't even like the use of magic to light a fire or heal a wound because as soon as you got started with that stuff, the sooner it got out of hand and turned into things like this. But he wasn't a fool either. If a soldier was to die without the aid of magic, then that soldier should grit his teeth and take the foul tasting medicine.

"Ira, get a group together. We'll be leaving immediately," Marlon said, pulling Quinn from his distasteful thoughts. And just as the magic had slipped from his room, Quinn's instability drained away. He sheathed his sword and strode out of the room behind Ira. Quinn followed her in silence for a moment but it was an expectant silence. Quinn knew her type. She was a rising star in the ghosts, already working in close connection with their leader and quickly gaining a glowing reputation for herself. Unfortunately, any men she hand picked were likely to be of the same cast as herself and, unless he was losing his touch, she thought him too much of a lazy, flippant annoyance to take on such an important mission.

"You did well in securing the messenger and may now return to your tent and rest," Ira decided. Quinn was thinking how best to change her mind. She seemed the tricky sort, the sort you couldn't talk into anything without first convincing them it was there idea. Quinn liked a challenge though.

"Oh that would be nice, a shame to miss out on the adventure, I'm sure, but what a story I'll have to tell the men!"

"I'm sure the captain would appreciate you keeping these events to yourself," Ira replied in a stiff, sharp tone. Quinn feigned mild surprise and then shrugged, a look of pained disapointment on his face.

"A shame, I'd have liked to make a song of it to praise the bravery of our great commander and his excellent comrades. But ah, I suppose there will be other great battles. Perhaps a skirmish or two which I can elaborate."

The conversation went on for a little longer and soon enough, Ira had rounded up a band of mercenaries and Quinn was among them. He'd settled his lyre across his lap and was making some sign of stringing out a tune, then stopping to think and plucking a few more strings, as if he were composing. He caught Ira looking at him with pursed lips and a deep frown. What was that all about? She should be pleased. As far as she knew, he would now accompany them and if he survived, there would be songs to spread the fame of Marlon Grey and his band of ghosts further across the land. And they would mention Ira by name.

A shame really that Quinn wasn't a better bard. He had the feeling that the upcoming adventure really would be something that should be sung into history. It was really too bad.

Eamon

“Well,” Eamon said after a moment. “That was certainly...int’resting.”

He crossed one leg over the other and adjusted his beret, which had been knocked askew in the flurry of flying paper. “I don’t suppose any of you has any bloody idea what any of that mumbo-jumbo meant, do yeh?”

Commander Grey ignored him entirely, instead concerning himself with barking orders at his subordinates. Boring. He sighed, lacing his fingers atop one knee and waiting patiently for the Commander to give him his own set of instructions.

“Lady Agatha, you’re in charge. Ira, Silas, you’re with me. Malik...” Grey paused as he turned to Malik’s protege. Eamon stifled a smile by dropping his chin into his hand, waiting to see how the cool, collected Commander addressed the Paladin he’d never met. He didn’t have to face that

“Gleam, sir.”

Eamon couldn’t help it; he snorted aloud, coughing to cover it up. The suddenly-shiny clean Paladin shot him a glare, and Eamon grinned back at her. Marlon stepped to his right, cleanly severing Eamon’s view of Gleam, and vice versa.

“...Gleam. You’re to accompany us as well.”

“And Karniss?” Malik’s remark, more an accusation than a question, shot into Grey’s back as surely as a bolt fired from his crossbow.

Eamon tilted his head to the side, regarding the scrawny priest.

“She’ll burn,” Marlon said quietly, stepping from the room and into the hall. Malik opened his mouth to respond, but the Commander was gone. Eamon climbed out of Grey’s chair once more, stepping past the priest and clapping a hand on his shoulder for a moment before following Marlon.

Behind him, the others filed out of the office, with Lady Agatha remaining inside to get herself organized.

“Surely you don’t mean to let Karniss fall,” Eamon said softly to Grey, matching his pace without meeting his gaze.

“We can’t spare the men.”

“Then spare the women,” Eamon’s tongue-in-cheek comment fell flat, but he pressed on. “‘Course you can, mate. You’re the Ghosts.”

Marlon said nothing, his decision made.

“Y’think that the Lorokans will pass you by simply because you’ve done some dirty work for them in the past?”

Marlon’s step didn’t falter, but his expression did. He frowned, and expression only subtly different than the stoic grimace he wore moments before.

“The blokes will finish with Karniss, then come straight for you. There’s no way in the hells that they’ll leave a potential ally for Coranel behind them, unscathed. I’ve seen their army, Grey. You’ll fall.”

They reached the stairs leading to the foyer of Grey’s keep, and Eamon didn’t let up. His tone never changed from that matter-of-fact tone, that cocky smirk never wavering. “Send a force to evacuate the remaining Karnissans. Bolster your lines. Do the right thing, instead of the pragmatic one.”

Marlon Grey walked on, unfazed. “We’d best hope that the Lady or the Parchment isn’t sending us on a wild goose chase,” he said.

Eamon laughed aloud, then, for he didn’t know that the Commander possessed a wit. “Yes, we’d best.”

Luciliana

Luci groaned inwardly as the three others made their way forward. It wasn’t that she feared the guards, because she didn’t. They would be easy enough to dispose of if necessary, but causing a scene in a town like this could cause the people to mob against them, and she really didn’t feel like dealing with pitch forks and torches—again.

So with a sigh of resignation, she closed her eyes and stopped.

“I’ll catch up.” She shouted after her companions, though she was uncertain if they heard her or not.

She pressed her hands against the grimy stone wall, feeling out the source she would use. It was, of course, her least favorite element. It was always the one she had struggled most with, but it happened to be the one that surrounded them now. Water—the true bane of her existence. She summoned her strength, and took a breath to steady herself and focus her mind.

Come to me. She whispered the thought through the walls to where the shimmering pool sat, and with that, she drew it too her. Some seeped from the cracks in the walls, some from the floor beneath her, and with it she created a moving barrier. She gasped out, clutching the wall to hold herself steady, drawing forth the last of her strength, she froze the water through.

She fell back with a pleased smile, knocking on the solid thing. It was not particularly thick, but it would keep them at bay for a while at least.

Luci hurried forward on unsteady feet, slipping on the dew of the stones on occasion, until she met with her companions again.

“I think that will stall them.” She said with a satisfied grin.

Kadence

His boots slipped on the slick stones, leaving Kade to brace himself on the slimy walls to keep from careening into his comrades. With damp hair in his face, he craned his neck, catching a glimpse of moonlight through a shaft above. "Shortcut," he murmured, and pressed his hands together, condensing a pool of moisture from the air. With a quick, silent spark from his fingertips, a lash of lightning cracked at the wooden beams sealing off the shaft. With a grin, he pried the remaining ruined wood from the hole and nodded to Doris. "Easy does it," he said, lending her a steady hand.

She hoisted herself up by her elbows and crawled through the shaft out onto the cold grass. Further down the cavern, men yelled and water splashed against the walls. Dsar hoisted the elven girl through the hole and then followed suit.

"They're almost here," Luci said, her voice tight from the strain of using her unfamiliar power. "You go fir--"

"No," Kade quipped, shaking his head. "I don't want a drop of blood shed."

Luci glared at him, insulted. Kade did the same right back to her. He narrowed his eyes, and Luci slowly nodded. "Fine," she finished, and pulled her weight up to the grass.

Kade stared down into the cavern where the dim light of torches echoed against the walls. Splashes of ambers and yellows ran up to his face, and Kade stayed still, focusing.

"It's one of them!" The guard in front shouted, dripping wet from Luci's barrier. His voice was twisted, distorted with the dream water's spell. "Get him!"

Kade threw his cloak over his shoulder, slamming his left foot onto the wet stones as waves of static rolled from his body. With a clap of thunder, a torrent of static shocks ran through the dream water all around them, stopping the troops in their tracks, paralyzed. Kade pulled his cloak back around his shoulders and pulled his hood up over his face, grinning. "I'll take my leave, gentlemen." Kade tossed a small bag from his side, a clatter of silver coins rolling down the steps before he vanished.

__ __ __

"While I appreciate your dedication to being a nearly-religious figure everywhere you go, was it completely necessary to literally pay her debt with our money?" Luci looked defeated as she counted their remaining coins by torchlight. It had been hours since their escape from Garland's Well, and everyone but the two had fallen asleep among the trees.

Kade turned his head to Luci, grinning. "And you suggest payment in pain, then?"

"No," she replied, casting her eyes into the greenery around them. "I just think that you may have been a bit too generous."

"I'll be sure to count evenly next time I'm about to be sodomized with a javelin." He quipped, smirking.

Luci grinned, watching him stitch the frayed nips in his cloak. She waited a moment, clicking the final piece of silver down into a leather pouch. "Why were you so eager to save her?"

He stared up at her, smiling just slightly. "Dsar didn't rightly give me much choice."

"Yes..." She nodded, tying the pouch off. "That's true, but it doesn't answer why you seemed eager."

"Eager..." He thought for a moment, snapping the excess thread from the sewing string. "It felt right to save her. Justified"

"And since when have you been about justice?" Leaves rustled in the wind; the moonlight sifted through the trees.

"I don't think it's much ado about justice, but rather mercy."

"Mercy," she repeated, looking into the fire. "Even at the cost of your reputation?"

"Sacrifice is as rewarding as it is costly." He stowed the thread and needle and smiled to Luci, shaking his head. "Or maybe I feel compelled to make amends."

She yawned quietly, stoking the fire from her fingertips. "You're so strange, Kade."

"And you'd have me no other way, I'd hope."

"The townsfolk may pursue us if we don't make it to the mountains before nightfall tomorrow, you know." Her eyes were a bit easier, suddenly more natural.

"Not if they fear the Lorokan troops as they should." Kade flicked a small twig into the fire and watched sparks fly up from the bed of flames. "You should sleep," he murmured. "We have a long journey ahead of us with no towns between here and the marshlands."

She nodded slowly and leaned back against a thick-trunked tree. "Don't stay guard all night, Kade." Her eyes narrowed groggily. "You're just as human as the rest of us..." Her voice trailed off, fading into a whisper.

Cellardor

Her sleep was fitful. Dreams plaguing her subconscious with visions of terror. She had had a bad day. A very bad day. She was lucky she was still alive. Very lucky indeed. She moaned, pushing away fatigue lifting her cold body off the wet ground. The females where asleep, the male sitting by the fire on watch. She yawned pulling her cloak tighter around her body, the cold nipping at her skin. She was use to life on the road but today was a different story. She picked up her harp. It was black and finely carved, just a simple folk harp, seemingly common enough.

Cellador approached the man, unsure of what she was going to say. She had watched him pay her accuser, silver running into his fat greedy hands. She had nothing she could pay him with, nothing of value to him. She walked closer, her foot steps almost silent her cloak flapping in the wind. He raised his head, face lit up by the light of the fire. A gentle smile, graced his face as he kindled the flames. She moved closer sitting on an old rotting log her long legs crossed clumsily together.

" I'm Kade," He said smiling eyes earnestly.

"Cellador."

" So, what bought you to the Dreamwell?"

She ignored his question, brushing it away as she had no answer. "I cannot repay you."

" Don't worry about it, money matters not to me or my companions."

" You are on a quest," she said plainly striking a simple tune. The fire flared flames licking the cold night air.

A eyebrow rose. " How... Well I suppose it's quite obvious."

"People of your stature and power do not travel though theses lands with out a reason. I can offer you my services as payment if you wish. I will swear to do everything within my power to aid you and your companions."

He looked at her for a second. She could not read his features but he was thinking. " Services as a bard?"

" Yes but I have other skills. They might not be as well developed as your own but they are certainly unique. My brand of magic is brandished by me and me alone. Although I'm still in the process of discovery they will be at your disposal. Apart from being a musician I'm a fairly accomplished archer and traveler," she said feeling slightly uncomfortable.

For a second his eyes met hers. " I'll ask the others about..." He said trailing off in thought. She nodded and walked back to her tree giving time for him to deliberate.

Kade settled himself into a pensive sit by the fire, chin on fist, elbow on knee. Dsar, sleeping nearby, stirred and her eyes fluttered open, disturbed by his sigh and the material folding into place as he moved. He looked abnormally somber, ominous almost, with the light of the fire flickering over his face. She silently made her way to the fire and sat beside him.

"What’s wrong?" She quickly glanced around the camp, but found nothing out of place; almost everyone was asleep. Satisfied, she gave a concerned look at Kade, who nodded a greeting. She ignored it and turned to the fire.

"Nothing, particularly. I'm just not too sure about Cellardor."

“Mmh. Seems normal enough. Bit quiet.”

Kade eased his posture, folding his legs in a meditative stance. “Turns out she’s a magic user, which we didn’t really take into account. And, she wants to start travelling with us, but I dunno if we can take another person with us. Especially someone who's so young, so fragile.”

Dsar sharply inhaled. “Oh. She’s a magic user.” She sat back. “That changes things.”

Kade murmured his assent and glanced back at Cellardor, who was off in the shadows, out of the campfire’s reach. She was sitting back on her haunches, looking out at the serpent vines entangling the trees, almost as if she were waiting for something. Dsar stole a glance and unconsciously shivered before quickly going back to the campfire.

“Honestly, I’d say ditch her-- too unpredictable. Yeah, she seems like she’s an elf, respectability ‘n all, but... she’s unlike any other elf I’ve ever met.”

“Still, though,” Kade gnawed over his thoughts for a moment, catching a small bit of his lip between his teeth. “We rescued her for a reason.” He shook his head, black hair falling between his eyes. “Perhaps she belongs with us.”

Dsar looked doubtful, and shot another glance towards Cellardor. “Mmh. Maybe.”

Kade let out a quiet yawn, suppressing it subconsciously. “Either way, I don’t think it would be quite...right of us to leave her here, so close to Garland’s Well.” He nodded. “So I think that, at the very least, she should accompany us to the Marshlands.”

Dsar nodded. “That’s fair.” She made a mental note to be even more on alert than normal, and her fingers brushed the knives rimming her belt.

“There’s also something I wanted to look into before we enter the mountain range.”

“Oh?” Dsar tilted her head, leaving her knives to her side.

“Mhm.” He grinned slightly, retrieving an old book from his satchel. Filming through the pages, he glanced up at Dsar. “There is,” he stopped flipping, pointing to a page, “a fountain near the mountain basin called The Mars Rock.” He handed Dsar the book, pointing to a small sketch of the spring. “The waters of The Mars Rock have rejuvenating properties, and we’re low on medical supplies.”

“What about Doris’ powers?”

“I’m certain she’d love to study this,” he replied. “What do you think?”

“Don’t see why not. We takin’ Cellardor with us?”

Kade nodded. “Maybe we’ll warm up to her.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

There was rain in the air, but whether it was a leftover from the earlier jailbreak or a precursor of the weather, Doris wasn't sure she could tell. She could hear the hush of voices drifting over, underlined with the crackling of wood burning and on fire, but did not bother moving. There were stars shining dim through the canopy , and for a moment she was back at the gardens in Harapa, a child having climbed out of her window to wander off and see the night. She smiled to herself, and pulled the coat draped over her shoulders tighter.

There was movement by the fire, that eventually drew her eyes back down from the sky; Dsar moving away, presumably to catch some sleep, while Kade remained where he was, fingers drifting over the open book that sat on his knees. Doris blinked up at the stars, then sighed and rose to her feet. She doubted she would be able to sleep tonight, and it seemed wasteful to waste the hours alone.

He was glancing at her when she sat by his side, the fire purring as it flagged, its light now softer. It roared up as she fed it a handful of dry branches, and then the light was stark again, flaring up against the darkness.

"Can't sleep?" There was knowing in his voice, and she nodded. Smiled. "You know me too well."

She leaned against his shoulder, thoughtless and unselfconscious, only shifting to readjust the bunching of coat against coat. His hands on the book were still moving. There were scribbled notes in the margins, too faded to read in the dark. "Something on your mind?"

"We're stopping by the Mars Rock tomorrow." Oooh. She grinned, and mock-swatted him when his lips took on a smug curve, like he could feel her interest. Which he probably could, technically, but it was the principle of it. "Please refrain from embarrassing yourself too much, mmh?" was met with an eyeroll, and then they settled in a comfortable bout of silence.

Which of course didn't last. She caught his eyes drifting towards the newest addition to their group, followed suit. "Are you going to make a habit of picking up strays?" The shrug was half-lost under fabric. "One could wonder why it is you seem to attract young, pretty women. It almost seems deliberate..." Kade huffed, but there was little offence in it. "Blame this one on Dsar."

"You didn't put up much of a protest."

"Neither did you."

"Fair point."

The night was quiet, and the wind was whispering of old, unknown things between the leaves. She breathed in the chill, and the faint trace of ozone and rain, and shifted closer to Kade. Morning took its time in coming, but she was awake then still, though content.

Cellardor

Morning came, the sun rose, the birds sung their morning tune. She had woken up a little after dawn leaving the group to forage for food. She bent down to pick some field mushrooms, intimating a birdsong as she glided though the forest. It seemed to sing back to her guiding her towards a treasure trove wild strawberries and dewberries. her nimble hands harvesting the delicate fruit. It was times like theses she lived for.

She found them sitting by the dying fire, frying what seemed to be bacon on a old pan. She placed the small wicker basket down of the grass, they all looked up at her but she ignored their glances sitting down beside the other elf. " Want some bacon?" said the man, was it Kade? She nodded and was handed a hunk of slightly stale bread and fat greasy bacon.

" How old are you?' Said the envoker, Luci, her tone understandably harsh.

" I don't know."

Dsar, the elf grabbed a few of the berries handing them around. The field mushrooms already frying in the pan.

" So what do you actually do?" Asked Luci, the others silently watching.

Cellardor shrugged, how could she explain? "I use music as a vehicle for complex spells so in essence I sing magic. Have you wondered why you where so drawn to me last night? It would have been simpler to have let me die but you came anyway. I was a stranger but you came anyway."

The group fell silent, none of them looked particularly happy.She continued, " Of course I never forced you to come, I simply suggested the possibility you decided to follow on your own accord. I can do other things as well. Shields, curses, I can create songs for any situation given the right amount of time of course."

" Can you fight?" Said Dsar as the others absorbed her words.

Cellardor paused, the answer was no but she had a feeling it would not settle well with the group, so she shrugged and stayed silent biting into a handful of berries. The others began to started their own conversations, chattering away as the sun rose higher. She ate in silence watching their mouths move, their postures. The man and the healer, Doris, seemed close their bodies turned towards each other. Dsar sat further way opposite the Luci who sat close to Kade. She naturally, sat as far as way from the group as possible. She realized that it was a problem, she had to get closer to the group, she had given Kade her word and she intended to see the promise though. She finished her meal and packed her belongings in a thoughtful silence, her mind wandering.

"Are you ready Cellardor? " said the soft soothing voice of the healer. She nodded, her heavy pack falling on her shoulders, it's familiar weight soothing her worried mind. " You can call me Cell if you wish," she said trying to smile. Doris smiled back and she felt a little warmer, it was about time she left her solitude behind and finally faced the real world no matter how daunting it seemed.

Looked looked up ahead the group already moving through the woodlands towards the mountains. She took a deep breath followed them into a new chapter of her life.

Lucilana

Luci had been on many trips, she had completed tasks that took great skill, she was talented and brave... but she loathed to walk. She would put her life on the line in an instant, but walking too many miles in a day was seemingly the worst punishment of all. Unfortunately, whenever she teamed herself with Kade, walk they did. He did not find horses beneficial to travel, another mouth to feed, another body to protect, and all of that. It was logical, to be sure, but at the moment her feet were not too keen on logic.

Still, she trudged forward with the group at a fast pace, trying to make it to their destination in the least amount of time possible. By the way Doris and Kade rambled on about this mystery Mars Rock, they could possibly be staying there for at least a day and a night. It was a break Luci had looked forward to when stopping at the town, but that plan had been blown to pieces by the elf.

She was unsure how she felt about the strange creature. She did not think that having her join their travels was the most ideal option, but Kade had made up his mind and it was not her place to argue. At least not in front of the rest of the group.

She studied the group from the rear, keeping her distance while watching them walk. After an afternoon of studying her companions she was unable to keep from noticing that Kade and Doris seemed to spend a great deal of time in each others company.

She was unsure how to feel about this revelation, so she remained silent on the subject. Kade was her favorite traveling companion because the conversation was always so lively, so when he was occupied with someone else, Luci found herself feeling bored and nonplussed with their current state. Dsar lead them, keeping the pace quick, and maintaining her usual stoic silence.

Hours passed, and her feet swelled and ached beneath her, and her stomach roared with hunger.

She was about ready to say something when Kade seemingly read her mind and called for a break.

The group settled down slightly off the path, each taking food from their packs to sate their rumbling bellies.

“So how far is this mystical rock, Kade?” Luci asked, trying to keep the impatience from her voice.

He grinned at her in his usual way. “Was that a whine I just heard? It shouldn't be too far from here. Perhaps we will make it there by nightfall if we keep up our pace.”

Luci grinned, grateful for the pleasing news.