Well before the sun sets, the group sets it's sights on Sukiskayn, this time not so very gratefully. The homesteaders seem equally surprised to see you back so soon, and this time not bearing slaves but goods. Taras can be seen to shake his head, but Petr comes forward welcoming you.
Asif approaches Forte upon arrival in camp.
"Forte my friend, Aten has not blessed me with a wealth of possessions since my arrival in Italy. In fact only my swords and my helmet remain of that which I arrived here with. I find this climate rather cold, Aten's light is not so warm here as it is at home. I hope therefore to claim the cloak of the huntsman, for my old cloak I gave to Rhune a week ago. A few extra arrows would also not go astray. May I claim half of that quiver of the huntsman's?."
"Please take the cloak, and all of the arrows. I've got almost an entire quiver-full right here," Forte says, gesturing to his own stash of arrows. "These are quite fine arrows, nicely made and balanced. They should serve you well," Forte hands the quiver of arrows to Asif. "And maybe you'll shoot more accurately with them than I have so far."
"Those certainly are impressive swords you have. May I examine them sometime?," asks Forte, still awed by the red blades. In all his years of smithing he'd never seen anything like it....but, then, he came from a rather provincial area where most people just wanted the basics--and he had specialized in armor, not weapons.
"A thousand thanks efendi for your generosity. I would be honored for you to cast your eyes upon the fine craftsmanship of my father. It is rare one has the pleasure to draw them when not in anger, but for the simple pleasure of appreciation of the art of swordcraft."
"Your father made this?" Forte says, handling the blade with care and obviously impressed. He turns it in his hands, hefts it with his right arm, turns it to look at it from every conceivable angle while Asif continues. Forte can't get over the color, and how the light dances on the blade. It is almost mesmerizing to him.
Asif bows his head gently with pride at the praise of his father.
"It be sad that I have not my father's exceptional hands, although I did learn a little I approach not the skill of him or his heir, my oldest brother Zaheer. The gift flows through his veins."
Asif draws one of his blades and hands it to Forte.
"My father is a master swordsmith Forte. His art so admired that in just 28 years he rose from the ranks of a bonded swordsmith's apprentice, to the personal swordsmith to the Sultan, to a Vizier of the Sultan's Armories. Aten has indeed blessed our family much. It is funny that I, a mere boy, not even the first son of the first wife, but the son of a third wife was raised as a Faris, with the same tutors as the sons of the Sultan. (Asif laughs) My father's appointment as Vizier gave him the wealth to take a third wife, eighteen years ago. This balanced pair of blades was made to celebrate my birth and that of my twin sister. Upon the coming of age they were given to me. They are made from a secret store of ore guarded by my family for generations. This ore gives them the so fine an edge and the reddish luster. At night with as little light as that of a candle one can see the fires of Aten dance along the blade."
"You have a twin sister. My family doesn't have many secrets, but I also have a sister. Well, three of them, but none of us are twins. I wonder what they're up to?" the large warrior muses.
"Yes my sister Jasmina and I where born eighteen floodings of the Nile ago. I too miss her greatly. She like I benefited most by our fathers Viziership. She grew up the playmate of the princess Drina ."
Asif's voice fades to a whisper at the mention of this name, he coughs and number of times before continuing.
"We were very close, for we where the only children of our father's third wife and were much younger than our other siblings. I wonder what match my father has made for her. She would indeed be a prize to some lucky man. I hope my shame to the family has not penalized her too much."
"I think the cloak is still in the mule's pack," says Forte. "I hope it keeps you warm on the cold nights...or at least keeps you a little drier once it starts raining again. Do you get much rain where you're from?"
"This phenomena is nearly unknown to me efendi. Our water comes from the holy Nile. Rain have I felt on my face, but as few times as the fingers upon my hand. Only here in Italy have I found such a thing common."
"The Nile," Forte says, almost dreamily. "I hope I see something so impressive some day. I have heard about it all my life. It must be spectacular to be so well known so far away."
"Ahhhhh efendi, it is indeed beautiful. When I sleep I often dream of it, that which I shall never see again. The great Nile is like the heart of my home."
Rhune looks on. "I would like the flask. If I may," she asks no one in particular. As no one argues, she takes it and puts it in her pouch.
After the brief conversation, Asif retrieves the huntsman's cloak, which is nice and warm, though the drab gray is nothing like what he is used to. He then hoists the quiver of arrows up next to his quiver of Egyptian flights.
The usual routine results, as the group finds spare places to sleep. They note that another group of refugees appears to have found their way here, and the place is fairly bursting with people. Most of the work around the place, repairing and rebuilding, has been completed, though the burned out buildings will still take some time to finish. The talk is all about what camp to begin rebuilding next, and each group wants to begin on their camp first. Curiously, the group who arrived last can be heard to tell their story. A camp far to the east of the forest called Segenyev apparently was hit after the raid on Sukiskayn was repelled. The survivors indicated that only one tribe was involved in that raid, the wolf-riders, though they did a thorough job.
Prisoners were once again taken, but this time they were not taken toward the river, as Segenyev is nearly twenty miles away from it, but to the east into the forest even further. The inhabitants know that there are goblin lairs throughout the forest, but there is also a small lake to the east settled in among the hills, the northwestern offshoot of which they fished in on occasion. They did not approach the lake, as mysterious goings-on were reported there. Nor did they approach the ancient burial cairns in the hills to the north, as restless spirits were said to live in them.
Bringing these rumors to Petr, he dismisses them as superstition. He says there are some ancient tombs on the ridge some thirty miles northeast of here, but there is nothing to indicate anything haunted about them. He and Taras rode scouting for horses within a few miles of them once and did not feel any ill effects. However, they did not come any closer. The Lake the settlers speak about is rumored to be inhabited by a tribe of very mysterious faerie beings, but all reports that he has heard indicate that they are peaceful. Getting together with Taras, he puts together something of a map for you of the eastern Dymrak Forest.
Meanwhile, one of the settlers at Illyakana, Yuri, the quiet white-haired fellow, is a smith who has some experience with locks. He tells you that he should be able to open the chest without too many problems. Being a negotiator, though, he claims that a quarter of the loot therein should go toward the reestablishment of Illyakana in exchange for his services.
"Fine," says Forte, "but we pick the 1/4 you get."
Yuri smiles thinly, "Aye, then, we have a contract. I will upon it first thing in the morning."
Gregor, the lumber-camp boss, smiles when he hears this, but does not argue. He claims he does not control his men, particularly as he cannot pay them anymore. He subtly indicates that the money would go to a good cause, etc., etc.
None of the settlers knows anything about a trapper, though they tell you there have always been such men in the area, as there is quite a lot of wildlife. Mama Kuzma comes out in her own time, and proclaims that she will be able to bring either Ullar or Dakath back to their senses upon the morrow. The other she can work on tonight. She says that both should be tip-top and ready to travel by the morning. Irina the acolyte, meanwhile, continues to show her potential as a healer, treating Rhune's injuries by herself. They heal almost completely, leaving her only with scratches, which should heal easily.
After Irina has healed her scratches, "Thank you. I am glad that you were able to do something. They were really starting to hurt," she says to her with a soft smile and then looks at Asif who has been sitting next to her the whole time. She smiles softly at him. "Thank you for trying to help."
Augustus seeks out the young Irina, and asks, "If it would not tax your supplies too much, may I borrow that which I need for my healer's bag?."
Irina looks at him quizzically. "I will ask my grandmother," she then vanishes again as quickly as the last time. This time she returns after a short time, though, nodding her head, "Grandma says you can use whatever she has in stock. She'll be out with you to talk about it when she's done with your companions." Turning to dash away again, Augustus halts her.
"You know..," He says to the young acolyte, "I was thinking about something that you said when you left so quickly the other day...You said something about the 'overbearing God' that I follow..." Watching Irina for signs that she may be frightened of him, Augustus continues, "...I do not blame you for seeing things that way, for the Catolik church has done nothing but propagate the appearance of evil for some time now...I just want you to know that...these things are not the way of my God, Jebohah is...an enigma, at times...but He is not as you think Him to be...sometimes I wish He would be just a little more...clear...as to what His will is for me." He looks at her and realizes that he has been rambling and probably boring her. "I am sorry, I do not mean to inundate you with my problems...I just wanted to tell you that I, well...I do not claim to know the will of my God, but I am certain that He loves all of you, and His grace will be over you for helping us."
Irina looks at him with the classic teenage expression, 'If you say so'. "I hope all is as you say, reverend, for all our sakes." Nodding her head briefly, she turns and dashes off once again.
As Augustus waits for Mother Kuzma to come speak to him, he makes a mental inventory of the items he will need to restock his bag.
Kuzma comes out within a few minutes. "Come inside and we'll see what we can do." Going inside her quarters, she guides him to something of a combined spice rack, medical chest. He is quite surprised to see she is very well-stocked with herbs, medicines, bandages, and some other items he cannot identify. She shrugs her shoulders, "I buy my inventory quite a lot at a time, and timing was good." Her face turns downcast, "Not so with my son, who was prepared for a winter with those in our house, not those in every house in the region!" She clucks at Augustus, "Take what you need," she then returns to tending the injured. Augustus is able to fully restock his healing bag.
After dinner Tag asks the villagers if with their wine, they would like a song and proceeds to play a reel and a jig or two for their entertainment.
He asks Xania during a quiet moment to help him on the way with his magical studies and spends the rest of the evening in quiet study.
Unfortunately, he has some amount of trouble understanding the details of the magical language. Xania begins to break through his basic lack of knowledge, but he knows that it will be some time before even the simplest spell is comprehended.
With supplies diminishing rapidly, the stoppered jars are quickly investigated thoroughly and found to contain sour red wine. With the party's consent, these are passed about to all the settlers, who joyously celebrate their survival, making plans and boasts long into the night when the party members have all taken to their beds.
Upon the morning, the group is, as promised, fully healthy and raring to go. Under Kuzma's expert care, no trace of Dakath or Ullar's injuries remain. Under Irina's slightly less expert care, Rhune's injuries have healed almost totally. Only a few small red lines remain where the nasty shard wounds were. Augustus is able to regain his spell-casting ability, and Xania retains hers from the previous day, so the group is as strong as they are going to be.
Looking at the map, they attempt to discern where their next destination should be.
"Where would goblins hold prisoners?" wonders Forte. "Maybe they're using the tombs - it's near a water source. And the scary stories may keep the locals away..."
As Rhune looks at the map, "I think maybe you are right. Though the faeries that supposedly live near the lake may be the ones that Marika left with," she says thoughtful.
Rhees perks up at the mention of the faeries. "The faerie folk are very much in tune with their homes and surroundings. If the goblins are nearby they will probably know where. If they have been peaceable with their human neighbors, we may be able to convince them to provide us with information - maybe even help if the goblins have been poor neighbors. We stumbled around counting on luck and courage yesterday and still brought something back to show for it - though it was close. Perhaps if we had accurate information before encountering opposition, we could be even more successful." Rhees stops suddenly, as if reflecting on his words, "But I have imposed my opinions on you all far too much of late - I apologize. Go where you will, I will follow."
As the group discusses what their next course of action should be, Augustus listens intently, saying little until the talk of the mysterious faerie beings comes up. He almost laughs, "Surely you are not serious," he says, "Faeries?! These are tales used to frighten small children, like Cent- ," A strange look of half fear, and half wonderment crosses the young priests pale eyes like a veil, " -taurs..." Augustus suddenly is very quiet. "Never mind," he says.
Ullar, feeling uneasy after his unconscious experience, rubs his belly. He mutters to himself: "I wonder what has happened.. I don't feel well, but I seem to be ok... I really, really. wonder."
As the party starts discussing where to go next, Ullar has his say ready: "Well...we're still looking for prisoners, or to be more precise, for Stephan. Those goblin are pretty sure about themselves and they don't keep a low profile, so to say. As we don't have any clue where they keep their prisoners, we might as well follow the only lead to the Wolf-riders tribe we have, let's ride towards Segenjev. We never know what tracks we'll encounter on our route to it, do we?"
After hearing about the party's discoveries, the warrior begins to smile. "Seems to me Rhees has been doing a nice job in guiding you...as we end up with a mule full of hides and a chest full of thingies we don't know about."
Rhees smiles at Ullar's comments, "Thank you, but I fear some of our companions would think your thanks misplaced," the smile turns bitter.
"Oh...is that so? Then tell me what the problem is," Ullar puts his hand on Rhees his back and gently pushes him with him, away from the rest of the group so that they can talk in private.
"Rhees...I can understand that you, with your clan-history, are used to have a leader in a group. In this group we don't have one, yet. The decisions are mostly based upon consensus and I think you should know that, 'cause it annoys me that you start over and over again about a leader. Just tell your suggestions to the group, not to a single person, and they can be discussed. That works better than addressing one person only. I, for one, will never accept Dakath as a leader. He would, however, do fine as a spokesman."
Rhees doesn't seem to be taking Ullar's appeal very well, his voice remains level but his eyes and straight back belie impatience at least. "You have funny ideas about leadership and consensus, Ullar. What happened in the caves - with you as the victim - was the bickering of children. Perhaps in . . .civilized lands," Rhees makes no attempt to hide his sneer, "...a leader is an unchallenged authority and it is indeed an unfair burden to ask free women and men to submit to such authority. Among my people, a leader can only lead by consensus, and he who leads in battle does not always lead beneath the roof. A leader only serves as a focal point for consensus - something this group does not have. But I hear you, Ullar who faced the beasts in the warrens, and I will honor your request. You have heard my thinking on this issue of leadership and unless you ask me to speak of it again, you will hear no more on this topic."
Ullar looks at Rhees with eyes wide open. His mouth is open as well, as the warrior is astonished by this harsh reaction.
"Rhees, it's not up to me to decide on such things. Your suggestions are good ones, I have no doubt about that one, but, personally, I find it hard that you address Dakath as our leader. The reason is obvious, I think. If I did as he suggested, storm in the room, I would be dead right now I guess. With only three opponents it drove me nearly off the edge, can you imagine what would have happened if we faced 6 of those animals?\"
Rhees looks away for a moment and takes a deep breath, a different man faces Ullar, still serious, but without anger, "Now I have a request to make of you, Ullar. I have traveled with you for two days, I have sworn to take on your fallen companion's quest and I have glimpsed in all of you things that make me believe that the path the earth chose for me was not so random as I thought. Tell me, if you can, other than the search for this...Stephen, what brings you together? I have heard several guarded comments about the catolik church - do you work against them? If so, how?" The look of anxiety Rhees wore when you first met him is back.
"That is a long story. Perhaps if we ride together I can tell you what has happened..." Ullar gulps and continues, "... and perhaps discuss this leadership issue some more?."
A faint smile appears, as if the warrior is uncertain whether his joke is being laughed upon or making the situation worse.