| Heartwood Logs |
2000-01-27
| Heartwood |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
The Path Back
...the sapphire light from the little star cuts through the soft gray fog, accenting each shift and shimmer of the Fey mists. It barely lights the circle of nine stones, three by three, as they tower high, their rugged caps sheathed in pale shadows. The small sparkle floats just above the Amber mare's ears, like a silent and well-behaved mascot. Benedict stands close, next to the carven center stone, while Roxanna looks about from Khari's back. The horse stamps nervously in the water, this place still adrift in the forever bog. Black is the night between the stones, and the last rays of the magicked starlight barely reach beyond the circle's bound, save to reflect off narrowed yellow eyes of the strange and terrible beasts watching their prey.
Roxanna carefully, slowly, shifts the balalaika from her back to its playing position. She continues to harmonize with the plaintive flute while quietly checking her instrument's tuning.
Brisa looks around slowly, rubbing Khari's neck and murmuring softly to her, "Ye did the best ye could, lass... t'was not your fault..." She turns slowly, pragmatically checking to see if the yellow eyes are all around the circle, and if she can tell how many there are... there is a quietness, a calm in doing simple, practical things, and Brisa is carefully staying calm.
The beasts move in a slow pavane, their bulky forms just on the edge of sight. No more than a handful can be counted, if they can. Eyes close and they vanish, making such a count difficult. They seem to haunt at the edge of the circle. Meanwhile the arcane music continues its siren's call, content with Roxanna's harmonies... as if each note strengthens the frail mists.
Brisa glances up at Roxanna and murmurs softly, "Can ye... call us a mite cheerier tune, dama, p'raps?"
Roxanna nods. Since the Fey music is only a single melody, it's actually fairly easy to cheer it up by changing the underlying harmony. She starts doing just that as soon as she's satisfied with her tuning.
Brisa paces carefully and very slowly around the central stone, checking for any markings she recognizes, any clue as to its use or meaning. She'll pause at once should her movement seem to change the environment or agitate the beasts outside.
Benedict blinks, looking at the sparklie, then around again. "I don't know if we should be playing along with the fey music..." he says warily.
Roxanna isn't actually playing along with it, per se; she's trying to drive it now.
Brisa murmurs softly over her shoulder, "Benedict, lad, have ye any magics that might aid us in knowing this rock here? What it mought do, that sort of thing?"
The bright countermelody slices through the fog like a knife, answered by the strident tones of the unseen minstrel. The melody now bites, like a slowly stirring beast, set to overpower Roxanna's light tune. The eyes, the yellow eyes, blink, and they shiver.
...ggggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...
But the beasts still stay on their side of the circle.
Brisa tilts her head at the change in the music, then glances over at the beasts and nods, looking grimly pleased... she paces back to Khari's side, letting Benedict examine the stone on his own. She may not be able to give any magical aid to Roxanna, but for what it's worth she's sturdily near and supportive.
The stone doesn't take notice of Brisa's abandonment, being a simple carven disc about the size of two horses. It is perhaps knee high, and the furrows slice completely across its face in a random pattern, like claw marks from a dangerous beast. No runes are carved upon it. It is plain and gray, slick with condensation.
Roxanna continues what can only be described as a musical duel, changing the stridency into a bright song of home. The unseen minstrel is at a disadvantage without a harmony of his (?) own, as the balalaika twists the stridency into other channels by refusing to bow to it. Roxanna's voice matches the melody, softening the bite and now occasionally bridging the chords slightly differently than the unseen musician.
Benedict looks at the stone, and shakes his head worriedly. "Not really, but... I can try something. Er... Roxanna... I don't think your audience outside the circle is enjoying the concert..."
Brisa holds a finger up in a shushing motion to Benedict, "Let her play, lad... we've nothing more useful we can do. If ye might discern what this stone does, now that would be a help indeed."
With each bright note the fell whistle becomes more sharp and cruel, its tones slashing against the balalaika's lighter notes. The starlight glitter seems to glow even brighter... or perhaps the fog itself was thinning.
Brisa looks around thoughtfully, "I wonder if clearing the fog is a help to us... and if we might clear it more..."
Benedict bristles just a little, then sighs. He's out of his element, he knows this, but by the same token they're all out of their element. He looks at the stone again, studies it closely. Somehow though, he doesn't think the fey will be too pleased if he calls upon Hastur's grace. Still... he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he touches the stone, murmuring to himself the canticle of understanding that which is not known.
Roxanna watches the watchers, trying to discern their reaction to the musical duel. She continues trying to brighten the song, even as it becomes more and more difficult to do so...
Above, the sky is clear but black and smooth, like a piece of perfect velvet hung across the heavens. With each delightful note the mists are beaten back even more, despite the angry swirls of gray just beyond the edge of the circle. The growling deepens, a harsh and hungry sound. Indeed, as Benedict bends down to place his hands upon the stone, one of the beasts howls and launches himself forward, teeth bared, eyes wild, and the moment it crosses between the stones there is a flash of whitest lightning. The howl becomes a scream and the air is suddenly scented in copper. A heartbeat later, and the shorn great wolf twitches as it sinks lifeless into the bog.
Benedict, in the brief moment of the wolf's sudden attack, stares at where the body sinks into the bog... from his new position several feet inward from the circle of stones, on his haunches and hands, blinking. "Either they aren't liking the music," he murmurs, "-or they really don't like me." He looks at himself and takes a cautious sniff. "And I don't smell that bad..."
Brisa pauses from where she'd darted, swift as light, to stand between her companions and the approaching wolf, her sword out... she takes a long, slow breath, her eyes wide, and murmurs quietly, "Now that's not something ye see ever' day..." She frowns thoughtfully, slowly sheathing her sword, "Am thinking we'll not be leaving here instantly..." She turns, "Ye're doing fabulously, dama... pray continue." She glances at Benedict, "How're ye doing, lad?"
Roxanna flinches at the flash and scream, but keeps up her song. Encouraged, she starts to weave more of her own songs into the mix, experimenting with driving her own music forward rather than simply subverting the Fey flute, always watching the mists and the stars now, trying to see what will drive them back. She nods but doesn't stop singing at Brisa's words.
Benedict blinks, looking woozy as he tries to concentrate on what he saw just before the wolf leaped. "'Round and round, forever and a day, where must one go when out is bound?'" He grimaces, and shakes his head to clear it. "A... bit startled, that's all. Ooh, dear... I don't think Hastur's listening to me in here, but somehow that doesn't surprise me..."
Brisa looks faintly surprised, "No? Odd... Herself is present, I am sure." She moves to stand next to the young man, resting her hand on his shoulder, "Have faith, Benedict. Capable you are, and your deity will listen. Try again, please."
Benedict blinks, looking up to Brisa. "You don't understand... I think it was the one you refer to as Her who answered me." He rubs his head, wincing. "Round and round, forever and a day..."
Brisa looks puzzled... then crouches suddenly next to Benedict, bracing him with one hand on each shoulder and staring intently at him, "Say it again, Benedict, slowly... what you did hear? Or see?"
The dire wolves pace the bogged, soaked circle, their anger driven by the faltering flute, each step more vicious and free. But they stay on their side of the stones, circling, circling, circling. Here though, within the stones, Roxanna has cleared the fey mists, and there is a shaft of open air slicing up to the sky through the ever-changing mists. With each note, the stones seem to sparkle, like glistening with water on a starless night.
Benedict winces, "Oh... 'round and round, forever and a day, where must one go when out is bound?' I heard that when I asked Hastur to tell me what the stone was. But... Hastur wasn't the one who answered, it was a lady's voice. It's... a bit disturbing, if you're going round and round in a circle," he nods to the circle of stones, "-and out is bound -- and frankly, a pack of wolves who would like nothing better than to make us into mutton makes for one incredibly intimidating 'boundary' -- the only way to go is 'in.' Need I say that that sounds like a really bad idea?"
Brisa stares at Benedict intently for a moment... then smiles and shakes her head slowly, "Am thinking you the favor of some god have, who on better terms than you know are, Benedict." She grins in sudden good humor, rising swiftly and staring intently at the stone... gently, she'll let her cloak edge brush against it, testing to see what occurs.
Roxanna frowns, trying to think of something while she is singing, but afraid to stop her song long enough to get a handle on the thought.
Brisa's cloak swirls out. It brushes the stone... and comes back... slightly damp. She nods and cautiously tries again, using a left hand fingertip. The stone is cool and still, quiet.
Benedict blinks, looking at Brisa, as he pulls himself up to stand. "They're certainly friendlier than those wolves," he notes dryly.
Brisa nods absently at Benedict's comment, "So She is... hmm. I wonder if desire can affect magics..."
Benedict blinks, opening his mouth, then closing it. Maybe best not to ask now, not while a bard is playing. At the very least, it's impolite...
The growling of the beasts become a dull undertone at the edge of their territory, held at bay for now by a white-garbed lady's dancing melody.
Benedict glances at the wolves. Obviously, they never heard it was bad luck to interrupt a bard that way...
Roxanna gently nudges her heels into Khari's flanks. She nods to the others, moving her head vaguely in a clockwise circle.
Brisa looks up at Khari and Roxanna still singing, then glances at Benedict, then past him at the pacing wolves... she nods, "I'll speak aloud my thoughts, and Benedict, give me what ye can of knowledge... and dama, but nod or shake your head if ye wish." She frowns at the wolves, then continues, "Am thinking would be taking Greenland path to pass standing stones right now... and Roxanna cannot sing forever. Benedict's message seems to indicate inwards into the circle. The stone is as inward as we can go... perchance if we..." she nods then, realizing Roxanna's already had the same thought, and takes Khari's reins, leading her round and round the stone, "Come, Benedict... let us try." She glances at Benedict over her shoulder, "Remember, lad, our desire is for home... keep that foremost in your mind, please, and stay close!"
Benedict blinks, and follows Brisa. "Uhm, something tells me this isn't exactly what was meant by 'in.' It could be a more mental 'in,' maybe? Into the self? or whatever that's supposed to mean, because my Master never went into philosophy of the mind... oh, I'm going to have a time and a half talking to him when I get home...!" Despite his brief kvetching he follows after Brisa, keeping his mind on the warm little study where his Master made him an Eye...
Brisa keeps one hand closed firmly around the loose rein, and reaches back with the other to close her hand firmly on Benedict's tunic's shoulder. She grins at him, "Don't want to lose ye, lad."
Benedict blinks at Brisa, and manages a wry but genuine smile. "I'd have quite the time trying to find my way home from whatever isle between the shores of the worlds I'd likely find myself on..."
Brisa chuckles, and continues walking the slow inward curving circle with the horse close at her side also... she hums softly, following Roxanna's tune, and thinks of home.
Round and round and round... and the dire wolves circle, round and round and round. Until finally there is no other place to go but atop the stone, Khari's shoes ringing clear upon the slick surface. Roxanna's music keeps the skies clear, the beasts at bay, until it summons the downpour, sudden, harsh, hard, warm like a dry-season thunderburst and one just can't see for the rain. And then it is gone, the storm season wind cutting, the hill brown with dying grass. To the right, tall mountains rise, capped in white. Ahead and even farther right the glimmer of forgotten forests. Upon the stone, the sharp-cut furrows easily drain off the last of the rainstorm.
Brisa laughs joyously, and throws her arms around Khari's neck, "Home again, lass, we made it!" She grins and reaches up to Roxanna, "Come, brave dama... am thinking ye could use a drink and a rest, neh?" She swings Roxanna easily out of the saddle, and cheerfully adds, "Benedict, make us another lovely fire please? and we'll have a bit of warmth and cheer, yes?"
Benedict blinks, *squish*ing in his travelling boots as he looks around. "I think we already got our drink," he deadpans, shaking a few pails full of rainwater from him. "But it's very, very, very good to be back!" Hastur only knew what his Master would say about this little tale -- never mind that, what the temple will think of it!"
Roxanna stops at last, and lets Brisa help her down. "Bozhemoi..." She starts, and tries to find a dry cloth somewhere to clean the balalaika. "Shto, this'll be a mess if it starts to warp."
Khari tentatively paws at the ground for a moment, not trusting. Then she just shakes her neck, her mane flying, and whuffles.
Roxanna says, "Just offhand I think we should put a mile or two betwixt us and this circle before we start building fires, nyeh?"
Benedict yelps! as he gets a second rainfall on him from the horse. "Ack! Well, someone else who's glad to be here... He looks around for a stone -- make that for another stone to build a fire upon.
Brisa grins happily at Khari, rootling around in the packs behind the saddle... she finally finds a small cloth, heavily scented of clove oil, "Will this be of aid to ye, lady?"
Roxanna sighs happily. "Da, that it will. Thank you, thank you."
Brisa looks around and nods, "True... should find a good shelter also, to dry our clothing, or we'll catch our deaths of... er... " she glances at the Atteran and grins, "Catch a nasty case of chafe, I suppose!"
Looking around, all Roxanna can see is the low disc of the central stone. Its fey companions are nowhere to be seen.
Benedict looks to Roxanna as he makes the fire, and smiles quietly. "Thank you for the music, madam. I'm glad that worked out well, thanks to your music."
Roxanna says, "I have to admit, I wasn't sure it would work. I tried to weave a prayer into the song, but... I couldn't tell if I was getting an answer."
Brisa sets a ground-covering stride to keep everyone moving, so they don't chill and stiffen up in the cool, damp air. She'll keep a wary eye out for a good place to shelter... soon would be good, since neither of her traveling companions are outdoorsy types. She adds, "Sounded quite prayerful to me, dama Roxanna... hmm. I wonder... are the fair folk of Nature, or of Chaos? I would be guessing Nature, but I've no training in that knowledge."
Roxanna trots along beside Brisa, not complaining too much... at least the ground is dry now. "Hard to say. Not of our nature, I'd guess. But weird as they are, they seem to have a logic of their own. And that argues against them being purely creatures of Chaos."
Benedict glances up from where he's making the fire. He's a good bit away from the circle. "That would depend on your definition of chaos," he says quietly. The fire at least is built, just awaiting flint. "What is chaos to us may not be chaos to the fey." He blinks then as he notes people are moving. He looks at the fire setting he made, looks up again, sighs, and stands and pads quickly after them to catch up.
Brisa smiles ruefully at Benedict, "Sorry, lad... we'll have another chance in a better location. Keep an eye out for likely shelter, neh?" She nods thoughtfully to Roxanna, "Then... they would be more of Nature. That seems right somehow."
The harvest hills are quiet, the sun balanced upon the edge of the western horizon, Her light painting the sky in a brilliant splash of color. The sentinel stone and scattered trees cast league long shadows, until finally, upon cresting a final hill, a fragile bit of civilization is met. There the rugged path can be seen, its hard packed ruts stretching north and south. And on the very edge is a small building. Little more than a barn it is, a barn and a ramshackle house attached. A three quarter circle of broken stones rises next to the little building, its walls covered with dying ivy.
Roxanna smiles, seeing the buildings. Shelter is at hand, even if they're abandoned.
Brisa eyes the buildings cautiously, then looks around warily.
Benedict stops short as the other two study the buildings below. Then he sees it, a bit after the other two do: this might not be the most hospitable of places, even if it appears abandoned. "Do we go closer?" he asks, almost whispering.
Brisa nods thoughtfully, "I think so... I don't see any disturbances in the path to the door, and Khari's not heard anything odd. And... we need shelter." She leads Khari slowly to the door of the barn, listening and watching, and checks inside.
Roxanna says, "Da. A nice roof would be fine." She follows a little behind Brisa, fearless again now that she's back in the Heartwood.
Benedict frowns slightly as he follows after Roxanna. Somehow he senses a pattern developing. Brisa leads the way, Roxanna secures the middle, he brings up the rear, and... something happens. "This is going to make for a long, long trip," he murmurs to himself, nevertheless grinning slightly as he trails after.
As one approaches, the little homestead takes on more definition. Little more than a thatched hovel, it is built of a patchwork of timber, planks, woven wood, and dark brown mud seeped in and dried to keep the cold wind out. The barn turns out to be just a larger house. It has an odd fieldstone chimney running up one wall. The smaller building looks like a farmer's home, worn and tired. The half circle of stone was once a silo, but now it serves another purpose. A single dark horse is tied on a long string of rope, the silo's walls now sheltering a bale or two of hay.
Brisa nods, patting the horse absently, and politely calls out, "Hello the house!"
Brisa checks the horse over... what condition is it in, and what sort of horse?
For a long set of heartbeats, all is silent. Then a door squeeeeeeeks open, and a short figure wrapped in a heavy blanket barely cracks it open. The voice is hoarse and broken. "It's closin', time fer good folks to be restin'. Penny for asleepin' in tha commons. A penny if'n ye take some stew. A two-penny if'n ye et tha 'ay." The figure shivers. "Tha's all. May she bless."
Brisa says, "The three of us'll be in after seeing to the horse then, if ye please, and stew would be nice. Blessings on ye also."
Roxanna bows to the figure. "And the blessings of the Lady on you, as well."
"It be in tha' pot." The blanket wrapped shrugs, shivers again, and with the slow movements of age retreats into the battered house.
In the shadow of the broken circle the bay stands quiet. Fine lines it has, with definite Amber blood, but certainly not as pure bred as those Brisa has seen at the Halahmbrah camp. It stomps a bit, its ears flickering at the newcomers, and paces also, until it decides that a bit of hay is certainly more interesting than either Khari or Brisa.
Benedict remains quietly in the background, behind Brisa and Roxanna. He's not traveled much at all before.
Brisa has a faintly puzzled look on her face as she leads Khari into the dark, quiet barn... what's such a nice horse doing in a place like this, with someone that sounds so... broken? She untacks Khari, rubs her down with a handful of straw, picks her hooves, feeds her a handful of molasses'd oats, and hugs her once, quietly murmuring, "An odd one to find here, eh, pretty lady?" Finally she pulls a couple of leaves off of an open hay bale for Khari, then collects up her tack and the bundles of her companions, and heads for the house, "Hot food and dry clothes, my friends... shall we?"
Benedict murmurs softly to the other two, "I don't have to say that I have a bad feeling about this, do I?"
Brisa nods quietly to Benedict and hands him his bundle, freeing up her right hand. She taps lightly on the house door, then enters, looking around alertly.
Beneath a single roof is the commons hall of the ramshackle tavern, if indeed it can be called such. It is little more than a large room, its floor cold, hard packed earth. In one corner there is a bar, or at least a couple of wooden planks set atop an old barrel. Behind it is a closed door leading to the small house structure. A couple of bottles are stacked upon the wooden planks, as well as a pair of crockery jugs. To the left there is a fireplace. It has a small fire within, which provides most of the light in the room. In the hearth is a big black pot. It gurgles. And the smell of stew comes from within. Thin stew but hot stew none the least. A small lamp sputters in another corner, valiantly attempting to banish the shadows. From the cracks between the door and frame soft yellow light streams, letting in the snap of a cold storm season breeze.
The commons are not empty. A single other traveler has stopped here. He is curled up across from the fire, wrapped in a heavy blanket. A shock of short-cut red hair peeks out from the bundle. His pillow is his saddle, finely made and finely polished. A pair of heavy and fat saddle bags rests near him.
Brisa nods quietly to herself... then grins. Red hair, eh? "Greetings, traveler." She steps in so the others can enter also, glancing at the stranger's tack, checking to see if she recognizes it.
Roxanna looks around, interested.
Benedict follows in, blinking in the dim light and wondering who Brisa is hailing -- oh, there. Uh-oh. "Er, Brisa," he whispers quietly, "-he might be sleeping..."
A tired head slowly raises from the saddle pillow. Beneath the blankets, the stranger shifts a bit. He takes in robes of white, robes of blue, and the other sworder. Then he lets his eyes fall halfway closed again. "Evening. And make yourself at home." He blinks and yawns. "The stew's tasteless, so it's pretty well harmless too."
Roxanna sniffs at it. "I've had worse, I'd say."
Benedict glances at the pot. Obviously none of them have had the gruel served to first-year novices. A feast!
Brisa says, "Spacebo, and good night." She gives Roxanna her bundle, turns and deposits her tack quietly in a corner, then puts out her own bedroll. Then she gets some of the stew for herself, after everyone else is done.
Roxanna urfs in surprise, but takes the bundle and finds a corner for it. She spreads out her own sleeping gear and then ladles up a bowl of the stew, looking around for the proprietor.
Brisa muses silently to herself... interesting. The rider is exhausted... but the horse doesn't appear to be, even though it was apparently heavily loaded -- with rather fine tack. No weaponry though... so he's either got a lot of faith to be roaming around here with 'target!' written across his belongings, and is exhausted from being a new rider, or... something else.
The stranger opens one eyes again, his voice light and friendly. He nods his head once in Roxanna's general direction. "They went to sleep a little bit before you came by, Lady."
Brisa sets some of her wet clothing out by the fire to dry, then glances at Roxanna and Benedict inquiringly, "Ye want to set out stuff to dry?"
Benedict, while not being terribly weary, sets out his roll, and takes up a bit of the stew. He's still not terribly at ease with things, so it's best to do what comes naturally to an Eye: he watches. "Oh... that might be best, I think I have another shirt here somewhere..."
Roxanna says, "Shto. The morning is good enough, I'm thinking." She nods at Brisa. "Da, or I'm going to smell like a wet sheep all day tomorrow."
Brisa chuckles quietly.
Leaning his head up, the stranger blinks. He gives the little group a second, longer look. Then he just sets his head back down upon his saddle.
Brisa gives an amused nod to the stranger... then continues putting clothing out to dry.
Benedict sets out most of his outer-garments near the fire. He notices the stranger's glance but tries not to look back at him; he just tries to be nice and quiet...
Brisa murmurs, "Wrap up warm, Benedict, ye don't want to be catching a cold after today's rain."
Roxanna checks her balalaika after finishing her bowl of stew.
Benedict nods to Brisa, and after downing his stew takes a moment to wrap his blanket around himself, looking at least as bundled up as the stranger, if not more so. A tired sigh emits from the bundle as he drops off to sleep.
A soft whisper rises from the saddle and the blanket wrapped stranger. "It didn't rain today."
Brisa smiles quietly, and retrieves her oil-soaked cloth from Roxanna once she's done with it. Then she settles cross-legged on her bedroll and checks (and cleans, where necessary) her equipment before going to sleep.
Roxanna picks up her dry outfit, looks around the room... and realizes there's no place to change. She thinks about it, then says, "I'll be right back." She opens the door and steps outside.
Brisa murmurs quietly, "Fine looking horse there outside... looks to be of Amber, da?"
Roxanna steps back in a few minutes later, carrying a wet robe and a damp pair of boots, which she spreads out to dry. She looks at Brisa with her eyebrows making a question mark. "You're asking me? I can tell if it's a horse, pretty much..."
Brisa chuckles quietly at Roxanna, "Bozhemoi... don't say that in front of poor Khari, she'd be aghast!"
The red-haired stranger lifts his head, quiet. "Thank you, but no. He's one of Torensson's."
Roxanna grins at the realization that Brisa has picked up some of Trundle's old-language phrases from her already. "I wasn't planning to tell that to Khari. I'm hoping you can teach me the difference."
Brisa tilts her head curiously at the stranger, "Who might Torensson be?" She grins at Roxanna, "I'll see if I can show ye tomorrow, neh?"
Roxanna grins. "I'd appreciate it. I think Khari did lead us in the right direction, even if it didn't look like it at first. Wouldn't want to offend her."
Brisa chuckles quietly, amusedly reflecting that if Roxanna starts carrying treats too, Khari may have split affections!
The stranger straightens out, folding his hands behind his neck. "Mikail Torensson. He has a small farm down in Talesan's Village. While he keeps a small herd, he raises one or two by hand, himself. Not for sale. For folks. I take it he's not alone outside tonight?"
Brisa smiles, "Nyet... my little gray mare's out there also... although they both seemed more interested in hay than each other." She glances at the stranger's arms, wondering if there are any distinctive markings on his clothing.
Roxanna says, "Understandable. She worked hard today."
Brisa grins at Roxanna, "Ah, she's fine... ye weigh less than I, lady. And she got a hot bran mash and some molasses'd oats out of the deal... I'd say she's sitting smugly pretty just now!"
Roxanna blushes. "I don't mean carrying me. I meant leading us out of there."
Brisa smiles quietly and nods, "That's true enough... she certainly did her best for us."
The stranger seems to be wearing a very loose, short-sleeved tunic. The cuffs are finely embroidered, but a bit frayed with age. "He's run quite a distance today, and I walked him off not long before you arrived. Though probably not as far as you, since the first stream that's big enough to get you that soaked is a day and a half ride from here, and you weren't there this morning."
Roxanna grins, just a bit. "Depends on your route. Ours was... unusual."
Brisa chuckles, "True, we weren't in a stream. We were in a bog... and got rained on." She glances at Roxanna, "Was yourself who sang us free, dama... would ye care to tell the story?"
Roxanna clears her throat. "Not particularly. I'd soonest rest my voice tonight."
Brisa chuckles, "Good point, again. Would ye care for a nip of warmed mead for your throat?"
Roxanna says, "Da, that would be nice."
The stranger yawns again, running one hand through his hair. "That doesn't sound like anywhere near by."
Roxanna says, "We... took an unintentional shortcut."
Brisa pours some mead into two mugs and sets them by the fire to heat, "Definitely not near, no..." she straightens, glancing at the stranger with a faint smile, "Would ye care to hear, or would ye prefer sleep?"
"I could do either, actually. I've had a few too many... shortcuts between Dawnview and Talesan's myself." The stranger nods once before continuing, "And in my work, every little turn of the trail is important."
Brisa nods, "Have ye a mug then? Da, we took an unexpected turn of the trail..." She'll accept and fill his mug if he has one, and put it by the fire also. Then she settles, continuing to work on her equipment as she talks, "We were traveling with a caravan we'd met... what was the merchant's name, Roxanna, d'ye recall?"
Roxanna says, "Vladimir. A local from my end of the trail, he was."
Brisa nods, "That was he, aye... and Colby, who handled the livestock. Poor Colby didn't know to leave well enough alone... and so one night he attacked and injured a small creature plaiting elflocks into the horses' manes." She's silent for a moment, then says, "The next morn we awoke in the lands of the fair folk, I'm thinking." Roxanna nods.
Handing Brisa a small low-walled cup, the stranger nods. "Thank you." And at the two ladies' words he winces. But then he shrugs and smiles, "Bright side. Better that than they come hunting you. Their horses run faster."
Brisa laughs softly, her eyes bright, "An' would that be personal experience speaking, stranger?"
"Two days late with a message to my Khorall..." the stranger shook his head, "-and Thorny stepped on the wrong wildflower."
Brisa looks fascinated, "A flower? Who is your Khorall? If the fair folks' horses are swifter... how did ye survive?"
Roxanna shakes her head at that. "Seriously? Or are you exaggerating?"
"Khorall Linnell Tamara Allaine." He shrugs, quietly. "Truth. And I rode into a place they didn't want to follow."
Brisa blinks! then nods interestedly, "Was it a stonehenge?"
The stranger frowns. "It was fifty yards into the Dirkwood."
Brisa sits back, startled... then stares fascinatedly again, "The Dirkwood... the fair folk don't like the Dirkwood then? What was it like?!"
The stranger frowns even more. "I don't know. Fifty yards in and a bloody tree ate my horse."
Roxanna says, "A... tree."
Brisa says, "Ate your horse?!"
"I swear the roots came up and wrapped around his legs, snapping them like twigs. Then it dragged him close. The horse was screaming, and there was a lot, a lot, too much blood, until the horse's screaming stopped and all that was left was a bit of mane." He stakes a long breath. "Not that I was thinking much. But at least my sword could hit the black wolves that came after me. It would have passed right through one of the Fair Folk as if they were smoke."
Brisa shudders as she listens.
Roxanna says, "Remind me not to go in there..."
Brisa rises and quietly gets the stranger's mug for him... and hands Roxanna hers also, then settles down with her own. "How did you know your sword would be useless against the fair folk?"
Shaking his head, the horseman shrugs. "Only thing that probably saved me was that my horse got et before I got a hundred yards in." Looking back, he accepts his warm mug. "How did I know? If you get a chance, talk to Captain Garrik down in Bordertown. Or have your lad there spend a bit of time with Jake Mohlkavin, at the Jvrillian guildhall. They know about most of the skirmishes that occur between Silk Creek and here."
Brisa nods quietly, "I'll do that, many thanks."
Roxanna listens carefully.
Brisa says, "And which way are ye headed currently? To Dawnview or from?"
The stranger sets his head again. He glances to his saddlebags for just a heartbeat, before looking back at the two women. "From Talantal to Dawnview, actually."
Brisa tilts her head with amused puzzlement at the stranger, "And ye're travelling alone?!"
Roxanna says, "Well, he's got his horse with him."
He smiles very quietly. "Da. And I've been doing so for many years. Fastest courier in service to any of the Khoralls." He lets the obvious go unsaid.
Roxanna says, "We've got one horse between the three of us. I think we'd slow him down just a mite."
Brisa nods quietly, "Probably. Where were ye headed, lady?"
Roxanna says, "Me? Away from Trundle."
Brisa grins quietly at Roxanna, "The boy and I were headed towards Cragside." She thinks a moment, then casually comments to her mug, "There's a very nice hospice there, I hear tell..."
"The Horse and Hart." The stranger nods. "Tell the barkeep, Dave the lame, that Rys shared a drink with you. He's not the finest in Cragside, but he is the most trustable with your gear and horses." The courier pauses. "That would be Lady Mari's place."
Roxanna shrugs. "Sounds as good as anywhere. Things... are not good in Trundle these days."
Brisa runs her fingers through her hair, eyeing the stranger thoughtfully... she smiles and nods, "We will then. Have you met the lady Mari?"
Rys just gives Brisa one of those looks. "For about two weeks after the Forest ate my horse."
Brisa sighs softly and nods and falls silent, sipping from her mug. Roxanna nods again and swirls her drink around before having some more.
Rys shrugs again. "Its fine. It was a long while ago."
Brisa just nods quietly and remains silent as she continues working on her equipment. Roxanna finishes her mead, rinses the mug, and rolls herself up in her sleeping furs. Brisa finishes checking her equipment and puts it all tidily away. She checks the drying clothing, then rinses her mug also. She'll wander outside to check on Khari one last time.
Finishing his drink, the courier sets his little cup aside. "Good night then... and a fair day come morning."
Brisa comes back in a few moments later and nods to the stranger, then curls up in her bedroll for the night.