The Greatest Treasure

Zel had finished packing his pack like Valin had told him. It was filled with nothing but booze. He also made sure his traveling gourd was full. He went to the cave entrance to see if the storm was letting up, it wasn't.

"Man, this weather really sucks. Well, as long as it's rainin we can stay here and drink as long as we wa-"

In the distance he could see figures coming out of the bushes. They were men clad in armor and wielding swords. One of them pointed to the cave. Zel couldn't hear him well over the storm but he believed the man said, "Over there!"

Zel ran into the cave. "Everyone! We've got trouble outside! HIDE THE WINE!!!" He almost plowed through Valin on his way to seal the wine cellar.

Alden was at the mouth of the cave when Zel ran by. He surveyed the area and picked up the soldiers immediately. They were very obvious in their armor. There were ten of them.

"How did they follow us?" Becky asked.

"They didn't," Valin said.

"How do you know?"

"They only sent ten and those ten are ill trained."

"Why are they here then?"

"Look around. This place is loaded with alcohol. Does this look legal to you?" Ria said.

"Oh."

"How many exits out of here are there?"

"Three," Sirloaz said.

"Let's use one of those, no point sticking around."

The group got there gear and moved towards one of the exits. It was a narrow tunnel so the group went forward in single file.

They had only gone a short distance, when Valin called for a halt. Voices carried down the cavern.

"I'm telling you, someone has been drinking our stock."

"If you're lying to me, I'll wring your neck."

"Get back!" Valin whispered. The group turned and went back into the main chamber.

Back in the main chamber, Alden went into one of the other exits.

"Stop!" Sirloaz said.

"What?" Alden said.

"There's a bear living down that branch."

"Well what do we have here?" a new voice said. The rum runners had come through.

"There is a man with pointy ears, two gryphons, a tied up person--" One of the men, Jon, began.

"I know that you idiot." Sighard snapped. "What I mean is, what are you assassins doing here? And why is the man who was meant to be guarding you tied up?"

"Assassins?" One of them, the Elf, said. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh. But I'm certain that you do." Sighard stated. "I'm certain that you all had a hand in this somehow. And most of all, I'm certain that I'm not going to let you get away with this."

"But..."

"No!" Sighard yelled, his grip tightening on his sword. "No! You killed General Harris! You know it! And you will pay for it!"

(Lets get this back up and running, yeah?)

"They want me, Adrian," Dreffan whispered to the paladin, who had drawn his sword and stood to face the intruders. "They believe you are in league with me, so they will try to kill you."

Adrian spun to face the bound prisoner.

"What do you mean, 'in league?' What did you do!" he demanded.

Dreffan smiled, a half smile that probably left more questions than gave answers.

He looked past Adrian, to the dozen men who had assembled at the mouth of the cave. "Looks like you're going to have to fight your way out, Adrian. They will not back down, not after you assassinated their leader."

His eyes widened at those words.

What? he mouthed, his expression incredulous.

Dreffan smiled again.

"Watch your tone, knave. Your 'assassin' is here, in our custody--if you want him, you're more than welcome to--" Valin was cut off by the ringing steel of multiple swords being drawn from their scabbards.

Dreffan chuckled.

Adrian turned to him. "And what's so damned funny?'

"The chaos of it all. Such fools...nothing like the Nemanics, my people."

Suddenly, Valin's sword was in his hand.

"And so quick to use their blades...my, my--in my land, violence is only a last resort. Pity," Dreffan told Adrian as he moved to stand next to Valin, preparing for the imminent battle.

The fight was over quickly. Harris's men were outnumbered and unskilled; Valin and Adrian had them dispatched without many others bloodying their swords. Becky wiped hers on a rag then sheathed it, watching Valin do the same.

"We leavin', then?" Finn asked. Becky noticed the circles under her eyes for the first time. Had she always looked so tired?

Alden stared out of the cave. Rain was still pouring down, the wind blowing it at a slant. Lightning flashed, followed almost instantly by a clap of thunder. "It would make more sense to stay here until the storm passes. At least 'till nightfall."

Becky was glad, not only because it gave her a few hours to dry off before being soaked again. She could use this time.

Zel had made a fire and settled down next to it with a bottle of rum. Becky walked past him, to Ria.

"You busy, ma'am?"

"Do you need something, Stillman?"

"I thought, if you had time..."

Becky stopped. She'd been about to ask Ria for another sword lesson, but now, she wasn't sure. Perhaps Alden was her master again. But they had hardly spoken since his return.

"Nothing," Becky said.

Valin walked over to Dreffan.

"Ok, you. Who are you?" Valin demanded.

"You know who I am, Valn Norovir" he replied.
"No, I do not, and I will not stand for any more of your mind games. Tell me who you are before I slit your throat," Valin demanded.

"Easy now, Valin. My master has memories of you not being quite so hot tempered. What he sees in you, I know not, but it is not my plains. My name is Dreffan, and I am a Nemantic. I am to deliver you to my master." He said calmly.

"Who is your master?" Valin demanded.
"My master said that you should know that yourself already. He said that you only need a little mental nudge. I am a Nemantic. From the blood plains. I am to deliver you to my master there, who sent you that message. Put the peices together, Elf"

"Seraph..."
Dreffan merely chuckled, as Valin stormed off to a solitary corner to figure out what was the next course of action.

Once again, Becky found herself on the ground, her sword three feet away. She grabbed it and got up, ignoring the hand Valin helpfully offered. He put his own sword back in its sheath.

"What happened that time, Becky?"

"I tripped."

"Why?"

Becky thought back. "I crossed my feet."

"Keep them in a line, you'll be more stable. Now, try again."

She stepped forward, her sword extended. Valin slashed at her; she moved to the side and attacked at his arm, missing. He struck again, aiming at a point a few feet from her body. She brought her sword up and knocked his away, only to find it, in the next second, at her chest.

"You didn't have to parry that." He lowered the blade. "It wouldn't have cut you. Ignore it, and go under for the kill."

Becky looked at him incredulously. She couldn't help it: ignoring anything sharp and approaching was against everything her instincts could tell her.

"It takes practice to distinguish a death blow from something that won't even touch you. Again."

Once more they sparred. Perhaps because of his elven heritage, it was as if gravity didn't apply. Becky stumbled and almost fell, catching herself and dodging his blade. She thrust; he blocked it. It was frustrating.

They'd been practicing for over an hour. He'd seemed the right person to ask for a lesson, and when she found him pensive in a corner, he'd agreed without persuasion. Valin was a good teacher, she thought, but his technique was very different from the one she knew.

"You're forgetting to breathe," Valin said, attacking again. Becky parried, then struck. Ignoring his own sword, Valin grabbed her blade in his left hand and tugged. Becky toppled over.

"Tha's not fair," Becky said, panting.

He tilted his head to the side, and with the faintest hint of a shrug, handed her back her sword. He sheathed his.

"Let me see your stance."

Becky showed him, feeling foolish. He one hand on each side of her sword, and pulled steadily, until she lost balance and had to step forward.

"You need to relax, Becky."

"'M plenty relaxed."

"If you were, I couldn't do that. Now, again."

Zel sat against the wall of the cave. He drank his forth bottle of wine as he watched Becky and Valin spar. He never liked swords, too sharp and heavy for his tastes. He would much rather crush someone's skull with his bare hands than with any weapon.

Alden had been sitting beside Zel watching the fight as well. After a few minutes he said, "Zel."

Zel tilted his head a bit to look at him. "Yeah?"

"What can you tell us about your old master? I'm curious to know what he's like."

Zel chuckled and took another swig of his wine. "He's an old geezer who drinks all day and all night. He's as short tempered as a dragon, and twice as strong. He may be old, but he's the best drunken boxer in these lands."

"You tell us he may be able to help us find Seraph, are you really telling the truth?"

Zel gave the barest of shrugs. "Had a near death experience a few years back, said he spoke with a man named Seraph in the Blood Plains during that time. Hasn't stopped talkin 'bout it since."

Alden narrowed his eyes. "So you're leading us to your master because of a suspicion?"

Zel smiled sheepishly. "Let's face it, you guys didn't have any other ideas at the time."

They were efficient—Dreffan would give them that much. For an instant he had doubts about his ability to overpower them, should the need arise, but he quickly dismissed that option entirely. He would bring them to his master, even at the cost of his life. No harm would come to them, as long as Dreffan drew breath.

He watched Becky Stillman intently as she and the elf sparred. She had potential, yes. She knew how to hold a sword, how to swing a sword. But she was not an elf. What Norovir was attempting to teach her was a style of swordsmanship that elves learned over the course of many, many decades. The subtleties of balance and reach and thinking five moves ahead, as if it were a game of chess, could not be taught to a human, who simply did not have the time to make them all second nature.

Dreffan was relieved when they stopped, for anything Valin taught her would be contradicted eventually by a human teacher. She would not be effective in any battle until she at least understood the basics of what Valin was trying to teach her, which would not happen for at least a decade. She did not have that long. The Blood Plains were an unforgiving place–the weak would not survive, no matter how careful Dreffan was in guiding them.

Valin and the others gathered around the fire, around the meal that Becky and Zel had cooked.

Dreffan found himself hungry, but of course said nothing. The conversation was light, if strained. Something was missing, in this group. The entire party seemed on edge–there were few smiles, and even less laughter. All at once, though, the conversation turned quiet, and Dreffan saw many gazes in his direction. He grinned at each person when they turned to him.

Becky Stillman stood up and spooned some soup into a small bowl and walked toward Dreffan.

He smiled at her as she drew near.

“Here. They wan’ me t’bring it t’yeh,” she said with a frown. She knelt down next to him.

Dreffan smiled helplessly. “My thanks, miss. But ah...’tis rather difficult to eat soup, with bound hands.”

Becky hesitated a moment before drawing her dagger. She reached behind Dreffan’s back and cut the rope that bound his wrists.

“Seems I owe you another debt of thanks,” he said. He brought his arms around and reached out for the bowl. Deep lacerations encircled his wrists, blood oozing down his fingers–he had been wrestling with his bonds.

“Don’ try anything. We’re watchin’ yeh,” Becky said. Dreffan noted that her eyes darted back and forth when she said it–she was nervous.

He extended his arms before him, but did not grab for the bowl.

“G’ahead, it en’t poison.”

He nodded and lifted the bowl gently from her hands. He smiled. “The elf cannot teach you to fight, miss.”

“Wha’d’yeh mean? He is.”

Dreffan brought the bowl to his lips and took a sip. It was delicious, considering the circumstance.

“‘E’s teachin’ me,” Becky reiterated.

Dreffan swallowed pointedly before answering. “But you have learned nothing. You still use the power of your fury in order to guide your swing.”

"S'why I'm learnin to fight proper." She turned looked away from him. "You don't
know nothin' about it."

He smirked. "No?"

"I don' see how yeh could." He took another swallow of the soup, chewing lightly on some mutton.

"When you fight, nothing Valin has taught you is in your step--nor in your swing. As I am sure
you've been told the majority of your life, you are not a graceful warrior."

Becky frowned. "You're done," she observed, taking his bowl. She picked up the ropes. "Give
me your hands."

He offered his arms to her, wrists together to show the bloody lacerations clearly. "Valin can not
teach you fight, miss."

She tied the knots, jerking the rope tight. "I know how t' fight."

"Which is why, miss, that you do not need Valin's 'lessons.' You know what you are doing.
Trying to do as Valin says would be like forgetting your knowledge of the common language and trying to learn elvish." He winced as she pulled the ropes. "Perhaps someone more familiar with your fighting...Adrian? Would be more able to assist you. He, too, seems more readily able to fight, when angered."

"It en't a good thing, what happens. I need t' control it." Control it, indeed. The Ragers of the Blood Plains were renowned for harnessing their anger.

Dreffan smiled. "And why, pray tell, is that? Why not use it to your advantage?"

"I..." Becky hesitated. "I can't!"

Dreffan's eyes twinkled, his smile remaining. "All right, then." The thought was planted.

"I've got to go," Becky said, quickly.

Dreffan nodded as she stood up. "When are we leaving, if I may be so bold?"

"The kitchen-- er-- fire. I need ta wash the pots,” she was stammering now. Excellent.

Finn sat away from the others, not far from the entrance to the cave; she watched Becky and Valin battle back and forth for a few minutes before resting her head on her knees and looking out at the storm. Now, there was an idea--

The rain was cold, as she'd expected it to be, and pelted against her skin hard enough to elicit a gasp. Well, at least she'd be plenty clean at the end of this--she'd better be, at least. Vaguely she remembered another cave, and washing in a spring, and then Seraph--back before he became... whatever he was now. The sort of man who didn't try to contact his friends, that's for certain. And his... more-than-friends. Finn shivered and threw her head down towards the ground, bent at the waist, fingers combing through her hair as the water trickled past her neck and down her chin, across her forehead, slithered down her spine and pooled in her boots.

She'd done a decent enough job of convincing herself she didn't care about him last time; she'd do the same this time. And this Dreffan fellow--sod all, she'd kill him and happily. She'd picture Seraph's face laid over his when she did it, too, and twist the dagger an extra turn or two.

Finn flung her head back up, wet hair slapping against the back of her clothes, and ran back into the mouth of the cave, shaking like a wet dog. Valin glared at her over his shoulder before parrying another of Becky's blows and barking directions; Finn stripped off all the clothes she could while retaining her decency, and went over to sit by the fire and dry out.

Once she was reasonably dry she pulled most of her clothes back on, leaving a piece or two to dry further by the fire, and stood up, stretching. She looked around the cave: gods, this was like a bad case of déjà vu. She shook her head, glancing further around, past Sirloaz, past Ria and Alden, past Zel, and looked at Dreffan. He was watching Zel and Alden at the moment, but seemed to sense her eyes on him; he looked up, and instead of looking away, Finn stared back. A few moments later, she crossed the cave and stopped a little way past his feet, glaring dispassionately down at him. He didn’t even blink. Finn bit back the urge to assure him that she planned on carrying out his order.

He smiled. “Miss Chant—a pleasure and an honor.” Finn’s eyes narrowed, and she made a displeased sound deep in her throat; his smile didn’t falter. “My Lord has told me much of you. It seems he was not exaggerating in the least—though I might have known. He is not one to exaggerate.”

“’E’s not one for doin’ much tellin’ either, as I ‘member.”

“Of course, that would all depend on to whom he is doing the telling, would it not?” His smile widened, almost like he was talking to a child.

Finn bristled and moved to lean against the cave wall beside him; to look at her, he’d have to crane his neck back in a most uncomfortable position. “I s’pose. Depends on what ’e’s tellin’, too, I’d wager. For e’zample: ‘m sure ‘e’d never tell some’un like Miss Chant tha’ ‘e’s got a death-wish.”

Dreffan didn’t look at her. “I would know nothing of that, Miss Chant. I do not concern myself with the afairs of My Lord, only his desires.”

His desires? “Di’nt know ‘e swung tha’ way, too,” she snorted. “Weel, ye learn new things ever’day, don’ ye?”

“Of course, that would indicate that you know he ‘swung’ your way,” Dreffan mused, infuriatingly calm. “How well did you know that, I cannot help but wonder?”

Finn gritted her teeth and grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head around so he was looking up at her. “Well enow.” She released him, then, and looked back towards the fire. “Tell me, ‘ow are things goin’ for our boyo now?”

“ ‘Our,’ Miss Chant? Do you call him yours?”

She clenched her jaw again. “No’ any more—no’ tha’ it’s any ‘f yer business.”

“Ah, but why bring it up if you did not intend to carry it out? Why force me to look, if you do not intend to meet my gaze? My Lord is Seraph Belfast. That alone should tell you how he is, if you know him as well as you think you do.”

Her fingers tightened into fists, and several times she began to speak without actually making any noise. “I ne’er knew ‘im, an’ I don’ wan’ to. Same goes fer you, you—” she struggled to find a word bad enough.

“My Lord spoke of you more than I have ever heard him speak,” Dreffan offered, looking at the fire again. “Once I thought I caught a ghost of a smile on his face. That is no small feat, I assure you.”

Finn’s fingers stopped clenching, and her jaw relaxed. “A ghost may i’ stay,” she whispered. If Dreffan replied before she walked away, she didn’t hear it.

"Zel, Come over here and help." Sirloaz said quietly nudging the drunkard and interrupting his conversation. Then not looking back to see if Zel had truly heard him or not walked back out into the rain.

"What'cha want now?" Zel spoke as he trudged his way out into the rain.

"Help me move the bodies."

"ew, why." zel said poking one of the men with his boot.

"We don't want them to be found that easily, also if they find them here, your booze will be found and confiscated; and we don't want that to happen, now do we?"

"No sir." Zel said taking the bait hook, line, and sinker. Grabbing two of the bodies at a time they were taken a good 5 minutes away from camp. The dreary process was repeated until every last guard was moved and successfully covered. "aww damn, blood all over me shirt" zel said downhearted.

"The rain will get rid of most of it, good job. The wine is safe" Sirloaz said clapping Zel on the back chuckling.

The lightning crackled, skipping across the sky, cloud to cloud as it lit up the forest as if it were day. The thunder that followed was as loud as an army of a thousand roaring dwarves. Zel slightly shaken by the spectacle picked up his pace back to the cave as a smile found its way onto Sirloaz's face. Beautiful.

"Zel, one more thing." Sirloaz said upon reaching the cave.

"Whazzit this time?"

"I'd like everyone's attention."

"OY, CAN IT!" Zel yelled as rudely as possible then proceeded to drop to the ground and drink. Everyones eyes turned to glare at Zel then up at Sirloaz who was standing at the mouth of the cave, the rain at his back.

"We need to move" Sirloaz said plainly.

Zel was the first to respond "Are you mad!? In this damned weather? We've got shelter, food, n' wine all righ' hear. Why move?!"

Sirloaz ignored Zel's impatient spluttering. "As you all know, we have already been discovered. Yes, they were killed; but the odds that they went out scouting without notifying anyone are extremely small. At some time or another, they will be reported missing, and the search for the assassin will be only doubled." The word assassin coming out as a hiss. "The storm would cover our tracks better than anything or any tracker alive."

"Isn't it a bit dangerous?" Becky asked meekly.

"Of course." Was all that Sirloaz could say.

The wind howled like an animal in fury, whipping her hair in all directions. She was wearing every piece of clothing she owned and still, within instants, Becky was chilled to the bone. Small bits of hail pelted her face and the muddy ground sucked at her boots.

The others walked leaning forward, holding tight to their cloaks, to keep them from flying away. The horses' eyes were almost shut, and frost was just beginning to form on their long lashes.

Becky felt wild. She'd been wary up till the moment they'd stepped from the cave, and then, it was as if the storm had blown away her all fear, leaving only reckless excitement.

What Dreffan said had been at the back of her mind, and now, she allowed herself to think about it. He was right that progress with Valin was slow. But she still felt she was improving, if only a little. He was a good teacher, and though the lessons were frustrating at times, she was picking things up.

She could be a warrior, though. She had the power inside her. Maybe, she could actually do something with it.

As she walked, Becky thought of letting go: how nice it would feel to willingly abandon control and just be overcome. To let it out, and to keep fighting until she was dead or satisfied. It was a seductive concept, and Dreffan seemed familiar with it. Here, in the raging wind, the idea didn't seem so wrong.

Zel walked up beside Becky and said, "Hey, ya fought pretty good with Valin back there."

Becky looked at Zel, then back to the road. "I'm no' tha' great."

"No, yer not." Becky looked at Zel with a questioning look. Zel smiled as he took another swig of his wine. "But, that's why ya gotta keep trying. I've seen the way ya fight, all power and no direction. I used to fight like that." He finished off the last of the wine in the bottle and tossed it on the road before taking another out of his pack. "Martial arts and sword fightn' are a lot alike. Strength and control go hand-in-hand. Without control, you can't hit yer enemy, without strength, you can't hurt yer enemy. You try ta use yer strength to overwhelm your enemy instead of trying to read his movements and strike when the time is right."

"I get wha' yer sayin'." Becky said. She turned her head to glance at Dreffan. "But, some pep'l seem ta think 'm wast'n my time."

Zel glanced at Dreffan before saying, "Don't let 'em get ta ya. Yer doin the right thing by get'n Valin to teach you ta fight. Learn'n ta fight takes time 'n commitment. Ya can't expect to learn it over night. I sure as hell didn't." He laughed and took another swig of his wine.

Dreffan was forced to tread carefully in the storm. His hands were still bound (albeit in front of him, thank you Becky), throwing off his balance slightly--if he fell, getting up would be a problem, in this mud.

He glanced behind him, to where Zel had stepped up to the mounted Becky.

Interesting time for a conversation.

He could not hear what they were saying above the wind and rain, but the look on Becky's face told him she either hadn't heard him well and was trying to understand, or she understood perfectly and was contemplating it seriously. Dreffan hoped it was the former. If it was the latter, it would bother him until he found out.

He patted his belt pouch thoughtfully. They had not checked him for concealed weapons, which made Dreffan uneasy. Their confidence would have been their downfall, were Dreffan's intentions different. He considered summoning his mount, using the statuette given to him by his Lord, but resigned himself instead to walking for the duration of this particular outing.

His traveling cloak took the brunt of the rain, but he could still feel some wetness on his shoulders--he would have to make sure there was no permanent damage, when they stopped. He had his cowl pulled low on his forehead, but not so low as to limit his vision. Even in the relative safety of this group, he was wary.

Dreffan felt eyes on him. Even in the midst of a storm, his sense of the others around him was unparalleled. He looked left and right, and caught Miss Chant staring from her horse for just an instant before she looked away. He looked ahead once more and let a smile creep onto his face.

This will be interesting.