The Tempering Chapter 3: Adjustment

Laith had been alone in the woods all this time. His woodcraft made life for him easy, and he knew he needed the solitude to set his thoughts in order. Laith had always been a weak man when it came to dealing with difficult decisions, and he hated himself for it. Laith dreamt of Feryl nearly every night. His dreams of her were bittersweet. In them she was traveling and adventuring and growing and he was glad for it, yet he was saddened that she seemed to be doing so well without him. He tried to tell himself that they were simply dreams, but a part of him could feel that it was a deeper connection, and whether they had wanted to or not, their spirits had chosen to bond on their last night together. He wondered if Feryl could sense it too.

Laith began to perceive a direction to his aimless wandering. He did not even realize he had headed in any particular direction until the forest around him grew more and more familiar. His heart nearly stopped when he heard Elvish laughter in the trees ahead of him. The hairs raised on the back of his neck, and Laith knew he was discovered and targeted by at least a dozen bows.

“Speak you name stranger,” said a hard voice. “what is your business here?” Laith swallowed hard, and paused a moment before he answered, “My name is Egren Laith, and I have come home.”

The village was abuzz with gossip as Laith entered town amidst a small groups of scouts from the outer guard. The guards had told him he must speak with the Village Elder in order to be given permission to roam freely in the woods. Laith was led up and into a small waiting area where he was told he would be seen when the elder was free.

Laith waited for what seemed like hours but was likely less than half of one. Then door opened slowly and a voice tentatively said “I was told someone wished permission to enter the village,” the man spoke, he was about to continue when his eyes settled upon the guest. ”Laith?” he exclaimed, and Laith did not know which of the many jumbled feelings to express when he looked into the aged eyes of his Father.

Laith and his Father stared at each other for a while, neither knowing how to proceed, finally his father came forward to embrace him. Laith was immeasurably touched when his Father’s voice cracked with emotion ”Laith, my wandering son, how long you have been gone, and how my heart has longed to see you home. Welcome, welcome my beloved son. May your wandering spirit stay within our halls as long as you can bear.”

Feryl had never been on a ship for such an extended period of time. She had spent a majority of the first week quite ill. Although it sailed on air rather than water, the motion was quite the same. She was beginning to get used to the constant swaying motion, but nights were still very hard. The gentle swaying sensation while she laid still made her ill. Lana had mixed up a potion for her to take which helped a lot. It was made of a variety of common herbs and tasted and smelled strongly of mint. Feryl would hold off taking the potion as long as she could, hoping to increase her tolerance for the ship, and decrease her reliance on the labor heavy potion. She sipped a small amount of the potion and lay back down. It was not long before her eyes were closed and she was far away in a deep ancient forest. Feryl dreamed of Laith that night, and was relieved to find him among friends or family, but the turmoil and jumble of feelings Laith was feeling, left her restless, and she tossed and turned throughout the night.

Laith was amazed at life in the forest. He had completely forgotten the way it felt to be in a place filled solely with the Elder people. His Father had asked him to stay in their old home, and he had reconnected with his sister as well, but it was his little niece who had stolen his heart once again. While no longer a child, she had not fully blossomed into womanhood either. She had a playful sense about her, and her golden hair and nut brown eyes complimented her golden skin. She had a sprinkling of freckles on her nose, which gave her a childlike quality, and her effervescent personality won her the hearts of nearly everyone she met. Laith’s sister said that the girl was too much like her Uncle, but Laith brushed it away as a compliment he wasn’t worthy of, which only made his more formal sister shake her head. It was good to be home.

Feryl awoke with a start as an alarm sounded above the deck. All about her crewmates scrambled to dress and grab their weapons. Feryl did the same and they raced up top. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the light, but when he eyes did, she saw Kennus and Winchell who had been on watch facing off against a half dozen creatures that Feryl had never seen before.

The creatures were black with a blueish cast to them. They resembled large scorpions more than anything. A wicked looking blue fluid oozed from the tips of their barbed tails. They stood nearly three feet off the ground on four paid of sinewy legs. Large razor sharp mandibles protruded from their head, and a smaller set of pinchers directly in line with its mouth. The eyes were jet black and arranged one of each side of their bulbous heads.

Winchell and Kennus were encircled now, and stood back to back to prevent having more than one side open to those dangerous looking tails. They circled as they parried, trying to keep an eye on each of their opponents. One of the creatures suddenly decided to break for Kennus. Before Kennus could ever raise his sword, the thing was swatted away like a fly by a might sweep of Win’s hammer. A bluish fluid oozed from the cracks Win’s hammer had made, as it smashed into the railing of the ship. It started to raise unsteadily, but fell back with a hiss as the crack opened up and stinking blue organs spilled out.

Feryl and the others had reached the circle now, and fought to make a break in it for Win and Kennus to retreat. Tobius surprised Feryl by rushing through the creatures to join Win. They shared a smile and the 3 friends moved forward as a circle within the circle, sending out as many hits as they parried.

The creatures began to retreat, and Thrym yelled to her to let none escape, she ran to take down one trying to escape over the prow, while Thrym went after 2 more trying to escape over the side. “They’ll bring back reinforcements.” Thrym shouted, “Scorpyons they’re called, act like bees, one finds some honey and sends for his buddies.” He finished that sentence by using his heavy broadsword to behead the struggling creature he has holding down with his feet.

Win, Kennus, and Tobius finished off the remaining Scorpyns. The deck was stained dark blue and reeked of ammonia. Lea shimmied down from the crows nest to announce the coast was clear, and everyone leaned back to take a well deserved breath of air. “Fine job,” beamed the Captain whom Feryl had not realized had been watching from the upper deck. Everyone started and rose to attention. The captain smiled and retreated to her quarters. Feryl was thinking it was odd that the Captain had not joined the fray, and thought to ask the crew, but the words died on her lips as the door to the Captain’s cabin closed to reveal no less than four of the scorpyons hacked to bits.

Kennus bit back a smile as he noted her reactions, and the crew went to work cleaning up the deck. Thrym and Win tossed the bodies overboard, and Tobius, Feryl and Lea mopped up the deck. Lana created a potion that smelled of lemons and cinnamon and she and Kennus worked the fragrant oil into the deck.

The crew stood around admiring their work, and their fortune that no one was injured, when Feryl’s stomach chose to growl. Everyone shared a laugh and moved to the galley. As they shared cold meats and cheese and bread they all noted the lack of a cook, and resolved to find one at their next stop.

Dastrius awoke alone in a cold tower somewhere he did not recognize. His entire body hurt, he moved to sit up, but found his left leg and his right hand did not seem to want to work properly. He reached his left hand down to massage his leg, and froze in place when he felt nothing.

Datrius looked down at himself, and saw that a wooden stump had been left next to him to serve as his leg, and a darkmetal hand had been grafted on to him. It was then he remembered him battles and reached up to touch his face in a panic, but his worst fears were relieved when he felt both sides of his face were smooth and normal.

He had lost rank in the eyes of the Lady, but she had let him live, so he still had hope. While the leg and hand would give him challenges, his handsome face had always been his most powerful weapon. Datrius could have wallowed in self pity, but such things were not what drove men like him. His will was like steel and he would learn to work his new hand to his advantage.

After a few days of adjustment, he was able to move around well enough. He had no idea where to go, or where he was, but he knew his Goddess would guide him when she was ready, she liked to keep her secrets. He must start over in his strides to please the Lady and gain her favor and gifts. His magic was weaker, as was his body, and it annoyed him to lose time more than anything. He would make them all pay for this one day, but not until the Lady commanded, for their destruction would be but part of his reward.

Dastrius had been born into a noble family on the coast of the sea. He was proud and spoiled and ill tempered like the rest of his family. Greed ran in their veins as surely as blood, and their constant lust for more brought his family to unsavory dealings. It eventually brought about their ruin as well.

After having lived in the lap of luxury for so long, the destruction of his families riches left Dastrius was turned out on the street with no where to go. Everyone in his town knew him, and he could not bear their self indulgent looks of pity or righteousness, they gave him, so he moved as far away from the sea and her reflections as he could go.

It was not difficult for a man of Dastrius’ looks and skill to fall into a new career. Dastrius, like Feryl, began working as a sell sword, though it was not his skill, but his penchant for violence that brought him attention. Soon he was being asked to kill, and the assassins guild was angered by his work.

They guild sent assassin after assassin to put an end him, but each one returned home in pieces, if they returned at all. Assassins though, are nothing if not practical and the guild knew an opportunity when they saw one, and so they worked to recruit Dastrius, rather than waste anymore lives.

Dastrius penchant for murder became well known within the guild, and he soon grew in rank because of it. Those above him feared they would be next on his list, and they were right. Given his penchant for creative and painful murders, it was not surprising that he rose in the guild very quickly.

One night Dastrius was given a special assignment. He was to seek out a hidden temple and assassinate all within. When Dastrius arrived he saw that the temple was filled with the ill, the elderly, women, and children all refuges of plague and warfare. Dastrius did not even pause for a moment, he set about slaughtering everyone there. Many people pleaded for their lives, and those, whom he saw as weak, were the ones he made suffer the most.

When he was done with the murders, he desecrated the temple, and stepped back to look at his work and smile. It was then that a voice spoke to him from the altar. At first he was afraid that the goddess whose temple he had just desecrated was seeking retribution, but it was in fact that goddesses nemesis who had come to Dastrius seeking a champion. Since that day, Dastrius had faithfully served the Night Lady, and he soon brought the assassins guild under her control as well.

The Tempering Chapter 2: Life on the road

Feryl traveled through the badlands to the Eastern coastal cities. The sights, sounds, smells, and tastes were all foreign to her. There were many elves in this area as well, and each time she saw a male elf with golden hair, despite herself, she would hope it was Laith. Though it had been months since she woke up alone in Devil’s Deep, her heart longed for him and she felt a sadness in the pit of her stomach each time it was not him. Sometimes she would have dreams of him wondering alone in the woods, lost, and lonely.

Feryl was working as a sword for hire, and was winning herself some notoriety. She felt a pride in herself and her work that she had never felt before. When she lived in Sparrows Haven, she was privileged, but that privilege came with a price tag, and she always had to play the part of the respectable young lady, at least despite everything, she was free from those burdens now.

Although Feryl had started out with simple tasks such a ridding someone’s cellar of a rat problem, she quickly was assigned more difficult tasks as word spread of her usefulness. She was on her way to negotiate her latest assignment, a guard on a ship that sailed not through water, but through the desert and the badlands on the hot drafts of air.

Feryl was told to go to the Brass Uncle Tavern. She knew it was a bit seedy, but clients often asked potential hires to meet them at places of that sort to test their nerve. They also often had some pre-arranged rowdiness set up to test their physical prowess.

As Feryl suspected, the moment she walked into the bar, she saw a fat whale of a man in the corner sneer and say something to his comrades who all laughed and turned towards her. She did not want to give off the air that she easily resorted to violence, so she ignored it, even though the thought of that fat bastard thinking he could ever hope to beat her grated on her nerves. So she sat down, and ordered a cup of ale. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a nervous looking man jotting notes down in the corner. That must be her employer. She was about to walk over and introduce herself, when she felt a fat paw rest itself on her shoulder. “Aye aren’t ye a pretty one,” the fat man drawled. Feryl looked at him, disgust plainly written on her face. “I ain’t one whose to be trifled with honey, you wipe that look off your face and give me a kiss er I’ll show ya why ya better be careful how ya treat a real man like me,” Feryl almost laughed at the stilted way the man said the words to her, as if he had memorized a script. She promptly looked at him, batted her eyelashes, and then head butted him smashing his flat ugly nose even flatter. “Ow!” The big man complained, “Whatcha go an do that fer, I was only playin..” and he grabbed a napkin and went sulking back to his corner where a ratty looking man came to lead him away. Feryl felt her face flush, maybe she had been working too hard lately.

Her potential employer walked up to her with a grin on his face, “Very nice, very nice indeed, oh, of course I will have to see to Winchell’s nose later, but my my, very nice indeed.” Feryl was surprised she hadn’t noticed how short the man was when he was sitting down, but as he came close to her, it was quite apparent that the nervous little man was a gnome. He was small and impeccably dressed in a bright blue robes with complimented his blue eyes and curly blonde hair. He had a long pointed nose which gave him a bookish look, but stood just a bit over 3 feet tall.

Feryl had never met a gnome before, but she tried to be polite and not stare. “Please excuse my manners Miss Feryl, my name is Phinneus and I am First Mate and First inventor of the fair ship the S.S. Solaris.” The little man sketched a very formal bow which Feryl found almost comical. He came up all smiles, “ I was very impressed with your performance tonight Miss Feryl, very impressed indeed, and I think, that is, should you accept it, that you will make an outstanding addition to our crew. It is likely you will have to apologize to Winchell over the bit about the nose and all. I mean to say you did nothing wrong, it was I who put him up to bullying you after all, for which I also should apologize, but he is all talk that one, he is as sensitive as a baby lamb and he’s likely to mope if you don’t at least say you are sorry.” He paused to take a breath and before the little man could start again, Feryl said, “I agree to take the position, and I will start making up with Winchell by buying he, and the rest of the crew if that is who he is sitting with over there a drink. May I buy you a drink as well?”

The little man starting going on about how he does like the drink, but tries not to imbibe in it too much, and while he would like one he wouldn’t want Feryl to think her new employer a lush, but at the same time he doesn’t want her to think him a prude if he declined. Feryl flagged down the waitress, she had counted 6 men at the table, so she ordered 8 drinks and gently led Phinneus to the table to await their drinks.

Feryl listened as Phinneus introduced her to the motley crew he had gathered. There was the huge, but soft hearted Winchell, a thin ratty looking man by the name of Tobius, a older man who had the look of a sailor named Thrym, a pair of fey looking women with almond shaped eyes and jet black hair named Lia and Lana, and a handsome man with an easy grace named Kennus. Feryl was content to listen as they chatted, and by the end of a long evening involving several rounds of drinks, she was sure she was going to like being part of the crew.

Feryl had a week to prepare herself for the journey ahead of her. They planned to be gone for 3 months so Feryl informed the innkeeper at the place she was staying of her impeding departure. Feryl enjoyed the freedom of living from a ruck sack. While her prior home in Sparrows Haven had provided her with lots of comforts, the upkeep and responsibility of such times kept her tied down and unable to travel. A small part of her felt a sadness as she knew the next three months would only take her further from Laith and her chances of ever seeing him again. She tried to tell herself that it was over, and that she was just being foolish, but her dreams of him continued each night, and she could not help but wonder if he was dreaming of her too.

At the end of the week, Feryl had all her affairs in order. The innkeeper would be storing her goods, and she had sent word to her family in Harpsail of her impending adventure. She found herself walking to the harbor with a mixture of anticipation and sorrow. Phinneus greeted her happily at the docks. “Welcome, welcome Miss Feryl we are so pleased, so very pleased to have you aboard.” Feryl nodded politely, and followed Phinneus aboard the ship. Feryl was greeted by most of the other members of the crew she had met previously.

Thrym was a just past the prime of his life, but he had a rugged, handsome quality to him despite his middling years. His skin was weathered and tanned like leather from years of sun and sea salt. His eyes had a merry sparkle and his smile was both warm and wry. He had an easy way of speaking, and while his speech was not refined, it did not seem harsh either.

Kennus was a bard, and he was everything a typical bard proved to be. He was hired on as a guard as well and reputedly was skilled with the blade. Kennus had copper red hair and skin that was touched with hints of pink and bronze. His green eyes sparkled with mischief and his laugh was like music. When he spun a tale, even the dour Tobius listened with rapt attention.

“Ahem,” Thrym signaled and Kennus nodded towards the Captains cabin. Feryl had met Captains before and pictured a weathered salty old man, but what stepped out was quite different.

“Good Morrow Captain,” everyone but Feryl shouted in unison and they saluted her with a fierce smile. That the men and women of the Solaris loved their Captain was obvious. “Good Morrow mates,” said the Captain in a voice strong and sure “and welcome to our new crewmate Feryl, my name is Captian Kym, Phinneus has told me much, about you, I look forward to seeing you work.” With that the Captain smiled and turned back to her chamber.

Feryl didn’t know what to think. The Captain was nothing she had expected. Captain Kym was a short woman, with a muscular build. She had deep red hair and fierce blue eyes. Her crew had confidence in her though, and Feryl felt sure she would be in good hands.

The men and women of the crew all shared the same living quarters, with the exception of Phinneus, who as first mate, got the suite next to the Captain. More for convenience than modesty, Lea and Lana had set up their bunks at one end, and asked Feryl to join them. Kennus of course stayed closest to the ladies with Thrym there to keep him out of mischief, and Winchell and Tobius taking up the opposite end.

Lea and Lana were sisters and came from a distant land Feryl had never visited. Their looks were exotic and almost elvish. They had trim, narrow faces with dark almond shaped eyes. While Lea had long smooth black hair, Lana kept her curly black hair short. Feryl felt very plain in their presence. While it was not polite to say, it was obvious Lea was employed as a thief, her slim body and the cat like grace with which she moved betrayed her. Lana on the other hand was a scholar, the treasure she sought on her quest was knowledge. She worked for Phinneus, helping him with his research, and she also knew a lot about flora and fauna from all across the worlds.

Tobius was a thin wisp of a man with small dark beady eyes. When Feryl had first met him, she got the feeling he did not like or trust her, and truthfully, the feeling was mutual. When Feryl watched Tobius with Winchell though, she could see past his appearance. Tobius cared for Winchell like one would care for a child. While Winchell was not slow, he was not very bright and he wore his heart on his sleeve. Tobius was truly a friend to Winchell, and if he seemed unhappy or unpleasant, it likely stemmed from the fact that he disliked ships and had only come along because Winchell had begged him yet again.

The ship was scheduled to sail up the river as far as it would reach, and Feryl was happy to know she would briefly be docking in the town where Grenwyn had set up shop. She looked forward to seeing her friends again and only a small part of her held out a nervous hope that she would once again see Laith.

The Tempering Chapter 1: The Road Goes Ever On

Chapter 1

The Road goes ever on….

Laith had awoken that morning Lady Killer was forged and saw Feryl sleeping and as he watched her he thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. That night, he knew she would overcome the darkness in her, but it was his own cowardice that made him leave. When she laid there, she seemed so delicate and fragile, he closed his eyes and saw her laying there in death, and he nearly stopped breathing. His heart would not be able to stand that loss, so he gently rose from the bed, packed his things, and left.

Laith wandered in the woods for some time, not really having a sense of where he wanted to go. The dryads searched him out and approached him several times, but while he enjoyed their time together, his mind was too full to succumb to their charms. He thought about going back to Taylia’s but the memory of her fading life caused him too much pain as well. He knew where he needed to go, but like many important things in his life, Laith could not find the courage to do so.

Laith thought often of his sister, and his baby niece whom he had kissed before leaving his home forever. He thought of his Father’s disappointed gaze, and his Mother’s care worn smile. He missed the sympathetic way that an elf could attune themselves to the emotions of their fellows. In the woods, Laith felt alone as he never had before, and not a day passed when he didn’t think of Feryl.

Feryl, while happy with her news friends and family, knew that she was just not made for a comfortable life. Her spirit longed to be free, and to roam the worlds in search of adventure. She enjoyed too much the feeling of danger, of living on the edge, and to ask her to be other than what she was, would be the same as caging a eagle. Plus there was the matter of putting her new sword to the test.

It had been nearly a year since the incident at Lithear. Grenwyn had enjoyed his time back in Devil’s Deep, but his heart longed for the outside world that he was so accustomed to now. Grenwyn headed back to his little shop with Ambre, Morwyth, and Morwyth’s wife Sterling in tow. Morwyth’s son Drogul stayed behind to run that ed of the family business. They were going to set up a trade route between Devil’s Deep and the surrounding towns. Mynix came along too, and she brought Rockhead with her. Grenwyn was going to help them set up a market for their potions, but though they did not tell him, their hearts were set on adventure.

Feryl had followed Grenwyn and company as far as the ruins of Sparrows Haven, but there, she parted ways, promising to return to visit soon. Feryl had a new enemy now, and this time she set her sights much higher than a pathetic pig such as Dastrius. Her new enemy was the Dark Lady herself, and armed with Lady Killer, her boneblade, she was specially suited to fight the undead and other enemies of darkness.

Feryl camped in the last standing corner of what was once Sparrow’s Haven, her home. As she sat staring into the fire, she remembered her life there, how comfortable it seemed, and how very long ago as well. Though only about 2 years, it seemed a lifetime away. She started to fall asleep and as she stared into the fire, a black mist began to coalesce into vaguely human forms. She could count three of them that she could see. They seemed to fear the fire, but they leered at her and hissed words in a sibilant tongue. They moved closer, and Feryl unsheathed Lady Killer. The spirits hissed and whined. An unnatural breeze sprang up and put out her fire. The spirits moved on her at once. There were the 3 she had seen and 2 more had moved up on her from behind.

Since she was encircled, her first priority was to change her position. As two of the creatures soared towards her, she dove into a roll beneath them and placed them behind her, along with the other three haunts. The first one made its move and Feryl arched her sword in a diagonal swipe from over her left shoulder down towards her right knee, when Lady Killer hit the spirit, it flashed a bright light, and the spirit was gone. Feryl grinned and moved towards the other four spirits menacingly. They all rushed her at once. Anyone observing from a distance would have seen 4 bright flashes of light in under a minute, and may have heard a satisfied snoring for the rest of the night.

Back in Harpsail, business was booming for Grenwyn and company. After Feryl had fled the city, the notorious Black Cloaks had left as well and the city felt itself again, only harder and stronger for the lesson. Everyone now kept ready blades and it was all he and Morwyth could do to keep up with demand. Not only were the high quality items from Devil’s Deep in hot demand, but Rockhead and Mynix’s potions were selling like hotcakes. Grenwyn was glad for the addition of Sterling as she was a good cook and a clean house keeper, and an even better book keeper. She delivered a lot of scoldings, but to be fair, they were all well deserved.

Ambre on the other hand felt very out of place. She didn’t enjoy doing the housework or cooking, and she didn’t like the hot sweaty work of the forge. She had settled for acting as a scout for the troops of dwarves that brought goods to and from the city. Ambre knew she wanted more, but she had no idea what that was, so she continued doing what she was doing. Aside from that, she felt like she couldn’t leave her Father after being so recently reunited with him. Like her Father, Ambre was restless.

The Forging: Epilogue

“She’s been awake three days now,” Grenwyn said, “Ye haven’t been to see her yet.” Laith looked at Grenwyn, “you didn’t see her that night, didn’t see the look in her eyes, I…can’t look at her without thinking about it.” Grenwyn smiled as if comforting a small child, ”Fer all yer years, yer still young in life experience elf. Many of us, we have a darkness in us, it comes from too much hardship and too little happiness, and sometimes it comes out. If ye truly love Feryl, ye must love her, darkness and all.” Laith’s head sunk onto his hands for the hundredth time that day,” I just don’t know if I can,” he said softly. Grenwyn nodded and left him alone. “I can,” Grenwyn said to himself, and marched off to find Morwyth.

Mynix walked to Rockhead’s laboratory, and he looked up at her and smiled. Mynix could feel herself blush and wished she knew a spell to counter it. As if reading her thoughts, Rockhead cast a spell and a cool breeze rushed past her cheeks. Mynix laughed and she ran up and embraced Rockhead, who flushed himself and tried to squirm away. When he managed to escape, Mynix looked at him, eyes alight with adoration “You were amazing during the battle,”she said, “it certainly would not have been as successful without you.”

Forgetting himself, Rockhead replied ”I can see why these dwarves love battle so, you have a chance to test out all your theories, and when you do well, you have that rush like when a bard tells a tale of a hero, defeating a villain, it makes me want to leave my lab behind and rush out to be an adventurer.” He remembered himself then, and said, “Bah, I am prattling on like a child, what a silly thought, me, and adventurer.” But he looked at Mynix with a question in his eye, “I think you would be a wonderful adventurer,” she said to him, as slipped closer, “In fact, we could be team, I could be the damsel in distress and you could come rescue me.” She looked at him, giggled, and smiled, then looked away. Poor Rockhead felt as if his heart would burst. “I love you,” he said, and kissed her lips in a perfunctory manner. Both of them blushed and turned away from each other, then Mynix turned and kissed him back, and this time, there was nothing perfunctory about it.

Feryl laid in her bed, Ambre came in several times a day, she would try to chat, but Feryl just didn’t have the heart to. She ate her food, but tasted nothing. She did not feel sad, or angry, she just felt..nothing. She felt empty, and she worried about the mark on her arm. Laith had not been to see her, and she knew somehow he had sensed or seen the darkness in her, and she thought he did not love her anymore. Even this brought only resignation. When Feryl slept, she dreamt of her kills, and when she woke, she felt no remorse.

Grenwyn and Morwyth, and Morwyth's son Drogul disappeared. For 3 days they worked ceaselessy, teaming up to create a boneblade for Feryl. Grenwyn wanted to create this for Feryl to help her overcome her heartache, and to teach the magic to Morwyth's son to be passed down to those unfortunate enough to bear the blessing and burden in future generations of their clan. The blade was forged from Dastrius' thigh and shin bones, and infused with powdered metals forming an intricate and beautiful pattern. The hilt was formed from the fingers of his right hand, and set in the center was the emerald from the ring Feryl had given him. It was a ghastly, morbid process, but Grenwyn thought perhaps it would could keep her darkness at bay as his hammer had brought some manner of peace to him. He would need Feryl for the final enchantments, her wrath would fuel the magic in the blade.

It was the middle of the night, Feryl lay there, staring at the ceiling, when she heard her door creak open. Her body tensed, but she made no move to draw her weapon. She did not wish to die, but she did not care whether or not she lived, so she just lay there, waiting to see what her fate would be. She heard light footsteps approaching and she turned to see Laith coming towards her, for the first time in a week she felt something, and her heart trilled a bit when she saw his ruggedly handsome face. The moment of elation was lost when she saw he still could not look her in the eyes. She looked away from him, not wanting to see his disgust.

He sat down next to her, and faced the wall. “I am sorry I took so long in coming here,” he said, and when Feryl said nothing, he continued. “I have been trying to sort my own heart out, I, saw you, when you were out there..” he began, and he told her of his vision of her in the pool, of his tryst with the Dryad, and he finally turned to look in her eyes. He winced at the sadness, betrayal, and fear he saw there. “Perhaps,” Feryl said slowly, “we are not meant for each other after all” and she could bear his gaze no longer, she turned her head, and hot tears rushed down her face, and feelings came back to her in a rush so powerful she wished they had stayed away. Laith turned her over, and kissed her hard as she wept. She kissed him back, but continued to weep, he laid down with her, and they held each other, and she felt his tears as well. Weeping, they kissed each other tenderly, wondering if this would be the last time they would enjoy each others embrace.

They stayed together that night, and it was a somber affair, both of them knowing it would be their goodbye. When Feryl woke in the morning, she was alone, and she knew Laith was gone from Devil’s Deep, and she would likely never see him again, and she wept.

Grenwyn came in late the next night to find Feryl weeping, and he looked her in the eyes, Feryl saw no judgement there, no disappointment. “come with me girl,” he said, “I’ve made ye a present, but I need ye to help me finish it." Feryl followed Grenwyn through a series of tunnels and felt the fire from the forge before she saw it. Morwyth stood before the work table, and on the table, laid on velvet, was the most beautiful blade Feryl had ever seen. It was bone white, and polished so smooth it almost appeared translucent. She moved forward to look at it, and gasped when she recognized the emerald inset in the hilt. Her eyes turned wide and she turned to Grenwyn. “I have known the same darkness as ye girl, and ye have to embrace it so it doesn’t control you.”

Feryl reached down and picked up the blade, it felt light, and perfectly balanced in her grip. She smiled, and a fierce light came back to her eyes, “I’m going to use this to forge a new life, one of freedom.” She said, Grenwyn and Morwyth smiled. “Focus on your goal,” Morwyth said,”Find all the sorrow and rage and pain in your heart, and will it into the sword.” Grenwyn and Morywth began to speak arcane phrases in the secret language outsiders were rarely if ever allowed to hear, and it sounded like stone grating on gravel.

Feryl closed her eyes and focused on her pain, and a tingling began in her chest and her head, and it moved outward, up her arms and into the sword, she opened her eyes and she and the sword was alive with a green sparkling energy.”Keep focused,” Morwyth reminded, and Feyrl spent over an hour pouring her sorrow into the blade. She thought of her Mother and Father, he friends and neighbors, of Dastrius, and of Laith, the tingling became a terrible burn and still she fought on. Feryl felt like she might collapse, and Grenwyn said to her, “speak its name” Almost without thinking, Feryl said “Lady Killer” and the tingling left her, and the sword glowed with bright white light. Grenwyn looked to Morwyth and the two shared a grin, Feryl looked to them and they nodded. She raised the blade and her laughter, fierce and terrible echoed through the halls of Devil's Deep.

The Forging Chapter 17: Finale

Back in the tunnels the mood was joy for the dwarves and frustration for the enemy. While sustaining a few injuries, the dwarves had lost no one in the initial assault. The attack with magic, fire, and arrows had significantly reduced the number of undead, and the last trap had taken down even more of them. A few black cloaks could be seen peeking out from beneath the rock slide hear and there as well. Rock Head followed a side passage back to the dwarves and met them at the next trap.

Dwarves can be quite creative when they put their minds to it. They make some of the finest weapons and armor the worlds have seen, but you could match their imagination up to a gnomes when it came to traps. Devious, deadly, and just plain nasty things the traps were, and their were few things a dwarf loves more than an imaginative trap working to specification.

The next trap was again at the top of a sharp rise. While the enemy would plan for and expect another rock slide, this trap would wait until most of the army was on the slope to spring. The trap was wicked, and a variation on a trap they had learned of from their mythril mining clansmen to the north. Their clansmen had made a rolling device with spikes to pulp their enemies, this instrument was a bit nastier, they nicknamed it The Masher.

When the enemy turned the corner and saw another rise in the tunnel, the Black Cloaks leading called a halt. The smiled at each other knowingly, which nearly made Rock Head chuckle out loud. “I must have been with these dwarves for too long” he thought and he gleefully waited with his comrades to spring the trap.

The enemy sent a scout team of 3 or 4 undead ahead. They assumed if another avalanche was set, that the 4 scouts would set it off and save the rest of them from a good squishing. When they set nothing off, the Black Cloaks did not continue forward as the dwarves had hoped, so they set their contingency in place, bait.

A few of the dwarves hobbled out of the side tunnel, apparently injured they moved slowly, then looked back only to see the host of the enemy laid out behind them. The dwarves let out a yelp and began hobbling forward as quickly as their injuries allowed. Seeing an easy kill, the Black cloaks called a move forward, and seeing the dwarves hobble through uninjured, they assumed the area would not be trapped.

Soon, enemy was in a full run, and gaining on the injured dwarves. The entire enemy host was on the rise, and just as they were in place, the injured dwarves miraculously started running as fast as their short uninjured legs could carry them. “Trap!” one of the more observant Black Cloaks shouted. But it was too late, as the last of the “injured” dwarves rounded the corner, the screech of steel on rock signaled the beginning of The Masher’s decent.

The Masher, was a large device, nearly filling the tunnel from top to bottom and side to side. Rather than rolling, it slid down the hill pulled by gravity on well greased tracks. The Masher itself was a large heavy wooden wall, braced with heavy metal bands, and set on the front side with hundreds of spikes. There were two levels of genius to the masher, the first being the tracks, allowing the trap to be reset and used again, and the second lay in the potions Rock Head concocted.

Guessing the nature of their foes based on the stories Grenwyn and company had relaid to them, he used powdered silver on many of the spikes, to help take out any ghost types. Other spikes he coated with a potion he had made from a creature whose very essence eats through metal, allowing those spikes to penetrate armor more easily. Lastly he coated most of the spikes with a potion of disintegration, so while the spike themselves may not stop the zombies, the potion would make their bodies begin to fall apart, rendering them essentially useless.

When Laith, Grenwyn, Mynix, and Ambre reached the bottom of the pass, they were surprised to see how well their plan had worked. The camp was ablaze, and the few people who had not followed after the dwarves or ran away at the first sign of trouble were running about trying to organize a fire brigade to no avail.

Grenwyn looked to each of his companions, and nodded, they returned his nod, each in turn, and as one group they moved forward. Most of the action seemed to be taking place on the left hand side of the grounds, so the group kept to the outer right. They wove their way between tents, using whatever they could for cover. Just as they neared the inner square, 5 Black Cloaks sprang up in front of them. Before any of her companions could so much as draw their blades, Mynix was halfway through a complex incantation. The rest were moving forward to engage as she spit out the last syllable, and a green glob soared over her companions and landed with a slurp on 2 of the enemies. The stickiniess of the substance as well as its acidic properties made it an unpleasant experience and those two were preoccupied for the moment.

As Mynix began her next spell, Laith jumped up, landing a high thrust to his opponents shoulder. While he scored a solid hit, it was not a mortal wound and his battle continued. Grenwyn faced off against the one who seemed to be the leader. Grenwyn’s opponent became quite frustrated as his every attempt to cast a spell was interrupted by a wild chop from the dwarf.

Ambre did not move forward to engage, instead she calmly knelt and knocked a white tipped arrow to her bow. She aimed for the chest of one of the spellcasters trapped in the goo, and fired. It hit the man squarely in the chest, and he had just time to look up in confusion before the powdered impact on the arrow blew him into a bloody mess. Everyone seemed to pause from the action, and glance at Ambre who smiled politely and knocked a plain arrow, this time aimed at the head of the badly wounded man who was stuck in the goo next to the man who had exploded.

Ambre’s success brought a smile to Grenwyns face, and his opponent paled at that sight. Grenwyn brought in a vicious chop removed the nervous wizards hands from his arms. The man turned and ran, but was not out of sight before a well aimed rock from Mynix’s hand sent him to the ground. Laith also was finishing his opponent, although the old fashioned way, and he blocked a thrust to his thigh, knocked his opponents sword to the left, and followed through with a stab to the chest that had his opponent sinking to his knees before Laith had managed to remove his blade. That was 4 down, but where was the fifth? They all heard a chanting from behind them and turned just in time to see three bolts of magic erupt from his hands and hit Ambre, Mynix, and Grenwyn. Ambre grunted and fell back with a badly scorched arm, Mynix was apparently wearing a shield that protected her from such things and Grenwyn took a bolt right to the stomach and fell backward to the ground.

Mynix was already countering and sent a bolt of force at the magician. It was a solid strike but while it slowed him, he was still able to make it through his next spell, and dark tentacles grew from the ground to grab at Mynix. Mynix hurriedly cast a fire shield around her and the black tentacles screeched whenever they came in contact. She was about to cast another spell when a well aimed arrow took the mage through the eye, silencing him forever. “And ye weren’t going to take me with you?” Ambre asked, “3 kills to yer 1 Dad, and I’m not even warmed up.” Grenwyn laughed, and then groaned as he was helped up from the ground. The companions looked around, wary that someone else had heard their scuffle, but no one appeared so they continued onward.

The masher worked perfectly. The entire enemy army was caught unawares as the wall came down on them. Those upfront screamed as the spikes pierced them, coated in their many potions. Many were crushed underfoot by the press of those in front of them, and many were smashed against the wall at the far side of the cavern. All totaled, at least two thirds of the enemy force was crushed, maimed, or otherwise incapacitated in that single strike. Those lucky enough to survive, turned and ran. Motivated by their success, the dwarves decided to take another run at the camp. Dwarves were nothing if not thorough.

Feryl slipped into the next portion of the tent. So silent was she that the two Black Cloaks waiting did not notice Feryl until she was rushing at them with blade drawn. As Feryl got closer, she realized that these Black Cloaks were different from the others. They were huge hulking brutes who reeked of the grave and drew swords rather than begin spells. Feryl barely managed to correct her course in time to dodge the first hammer blow. She turned that dodge into a fall and a roll and came around behind the other man and hamstrung his left leg. While the man did not react in pain, that leg collapsed, but he did raise his hammer and hit Feryl a glancing blow on the shoulder before she could scramble away. Feryl’s arm felt as if it were on fire, although only a glancing blow, the strength behind it brought bright spots dancing before her eyes as she flung herself into table to knock her shoulder back into place. The second mans hammer struck the table where her head had been just a moment before. Feryl knew she had to finish fast, or she would be too tired to dodge their relentless strikes.

Feryl jumped up on the table and struck downward at the first man, striking his shoulder, then spun the other way to slash the second man across the face. While the creatures were strong, and fast, their decomposing brains did nothing to allow them to block or protect themselves. Feryl knew the best way to stop them would be to simply disassemble them, and she set about doing so.

Grenwyn and company heard the commotion in the large tent in front of them and hoped they were not too late to save their friend. They entered the tent cautiously, and found the first Black cloak slumped over his book. A trickle of blood came from a cut on his head, revealing that he was not just sleeping but a closer inspection showed a relieved Laith that Feryl’s bloodlust was sated enough to spare the man. Mynix clobbered him over the head with a book again, just to be safe. They ventured into the next area of the tent to find the scattered parts of two hulking noric zombies. Grenwyn and Laith shared a glance, and moved forward.

Feryl finished the two zombies, and moved on to the inner sanctum of the tent. Dastrius lay on a bed, part of his face covered by black cloth, and the black crystal he always kept with him hummed silently on the table in front of him. Feryl had learned enough of magic to guess that the crystal was some sort of device he used to either store spells or enhance his power. She crept silently into the room, and up to the table. She was planning to smash it, but considered that it might explode, and while it would surely kill Dastrius, she felt such a death would be far too kind. She knocked the crystal as far away as she could and Dastrius at up with a start.

Feryl was shocked when she saw him. The left hand side of his face was covered in a grotesque scab. His left eye was held closed by scar tissue, and the contrast between the hideous left side and the beautiful right side of his face reminded Feryl of the two ways she saw him. “Faelynne,” he smiled, and her skin crawled,”I know you must be upset, but I had to do it to gain this power, and now you could join me, join me in the power of the Dark Lady and we can drink the world’s misery together.” Feyrl shuddered, and so great was her anger, it was all she could do not to chop his head off that moment thought it would mean certain death to her. “No,” he chuckled, “Well, it seems we will have to do this the hard way again, I will kill you and your decaying corpse can be my bride.” He rose slowly form the bed and advanced upon her, but as he stumbled down the dais. Feryl stood over him, and despite himself, he could not suppress a shiver as he looked into her cold vengeful eyes.

Feryl towered over the infirm man, and he knew he was looking into his death. He reached out to call the crystal to him, but it was too far away, and he was still too weak from Mynix’s attack. “I will do to you, what you have done to my life,” Feryl growled as she raised her sword. She brought it down and severed his left leg at the thigh. Dastrius screamed in pain and rage, but ended up whimpering and pleading for mercy. “Mercy! You dare ask for mercy,” Feyrl screamed, her voice cracking with emotion ”Death is far more mercy than you deserve pig!” and with that she raised her sword and chopped off his right hand, which still wore the ring with the emerald she had bought him as a token of her love.

Grenwyn and Laith walked into the inner tent just in time to see Feryl screeching as she chopped the hand off of the man who had been her lover. As she raised her sword to sever the other leg it was Grenwyn who yelled, “Enough!” Feryl turned to Grenwyn, and tears welled in her eyes as she warred between continuing her vengeance and running to her friends whom she feared were killed. “Finish him Feryl, this isn’t you, revenge should be swift, by torturing him, you are no better than he is.” Feryl collapsed to her knees, and as Dastrius looked pleadingly into her own with his good eye, her heart broke again. Then his good eye turned cold and she raised her sword to finish him. She raised her sword over her head and it came down on nothing. Where Dastrius once lay there was nothing but his severed hand and leg.

Dastrius’ voice came to them then as if from the night sky. “Fools! You think you can destroy the chosen envoy of the Dark Lady so easily? The suffering you have felt already will be as if nothing before the end. I am but a player who is helping to plunge the world into darkness.” All the lights in the tent went out at once and in the darkness of the tent, a purple beam of magical energy arced towards Feryl. She screamed as the light hit her right arm and burned a pattern into her skin. All of her friends rushed towards her, but she was unharmed other than the small burn. As she moved her hand away, everyone gasped, for burnt into her flesh was a black circle, with a purple ring on it, the symbol of the Dark Lady.

“I would kill you gladly Faelynne, but the Lady has set her mark upon you, a blessing you do not deserve. You will come to my side one day Faelynne, the darkness is in your soul,” Dastrius said in a voice coming at once form everywhere and nowhere. Grenwyn rushed to her side, “Don’t you be listening to the nonsense” he said. Feryl looked to Laith, who could not look her in the eyes. Dastrius’ disembodied voice laughed, “You see, your new lover can’t even look you in the eyes, he has seen your darkness,” Dastrius continued laughing, “oh how delicious his sorrow is,” Dastrius cackled and moaned. Feryl vomited on the floor. Mynix cast a light spell and the darkness and the voices vanished.

Feryl looked at Laith pleadingly, but his eyes could not meets hers. Feryl’s heart broke once again, and she wept and slipped into darkness. Grenwyn knelt and lifted an unconscious Feryl over his shoulder. “Grab those, we’ll be needing them,” he said to Ambre, pointing to the severed hand and leg, Ambre paled, but did as she was told.

They emerged from the tent to see the dwarves gleefully routing the last of the enemies. Morwyth came toward them with a smile on his face, “Ye always were a trouble maker,” he said to Grenwyn, “But I’ll tell ye, this is the best time I’ve had in years!” Morwyth and Grenwyn shared a hearty laugh, and the sound so resembled a rockslide, that all the conscious members of the party couldn’t help but join in.

The Forging Chapter 16: Let the Games Begin

The archers moved out at dawn, the traps were set, the escape route ready, and the tension was high. Ambre was out in front with the archers, and while Grenwyn did not like it, he was glad she had not insisted on coming with Laith, Mynix and himself into the enemy compound. Laith did not look well, and he paced up and down the hall like a caged animal, Grenwyn knew it was not just the rocks over his head bothering him. He hadn’t seen the look in Feryl’s eyes that night, but just the story of it retold by Laith caused him to shiver.

Grenwyn looked to Mynix then, she had grown so much in the past few months. Where before she had seemed ungainly, now she seemed sleek, her insecurity had turned into a cool confidence, and her features, while still somewhat plain, glowed with a fierce radiance sure to catch many a man's eye.

Rock Head told himself time and again that he was glad to see the travelers go, that now he wouldn’t be bothered by their constant jabbering. Now he would not have to take time away from his precious studies to tutor that awkward girl. Then he pictured the girl, and the way she gazed at him in wonder whenever he cast the simplest spell. He told himself how dangerous it was to have an apprentice, how they betray you when their skill outmatches your own. He knew this girl would have great power one day, the way she caught on to spells was remarkable. Dangerous, he kept telling himself. "I never listen to myself,” Rock Head thought as he ran up the tunnel to join his student.

When Rock Head caught up with her, he could scarcely catch his breath, “I um… I uh… thought you might need my help, you know, it would, uh, be a shame to waste all the time I spent teaching you…and um…my time is quite valuable you know…” Mynix smiled, and wrapped him in a big hug, and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. Rock Head turned a deep shade of red and said “Well now, I don’t think that is very appropriate, not very appropriate at all.” He frowned, but his eyes were smiling.

They were able to take the tunnels nearly all the way there, they would have to hope for stealth to cover them for the last 500 yards, and as we all know, dwarves are not the stealthiest of creatures above ground. Nonetheless, they managed to make it into position.

The camp below was in chaos. People ran about the streets drinking, fighting, and committing other sorts of debauchery. The dwarves smiled at each other grimly as if to say, this was going to be easier than they thought. They all set up their aim, and on Grenwyn’s mark, they let the first volley fly. Arrow arrow rained down upon the camp, and while they were in the air, Mynix and Rock Head chanted an incantation together and the missile caught flame. Soon the whole camp was aflame and the enemy began to rouse themselves from their stupor.

The dwarves stood at the top of a steep hill, and the enemy would be at a great disadvantage and could be easily pecked off my archers as they made their way up the slope. The humans were about to start their perilous descent, when the black robes emerged from the main tent. They called a hault, and a small army of varying sorts of undead creatures emerged from a larger tent hidden off to the side. These creatures went up the hill first, acting as a shield for their more vivacious companions at arms.

The arrows rained down in volley after volley, but they did little to stop the tide of undead creatures. Rock Head cast a firewall halfway up the slope, but the zombies marched right through, some of them succumbed to the flames, and many were damaged, but the press continued. Mynix remembered a spell that Taylia had taught her to turn a surface slippery like oil. She cast it and in a large section, the enemies were unable to advance without falling back down. More than a few creatures on the surface when she first cast the spell fell and were so badly broken they could not rise back up. Forgetting himself, Rock Head looked at her beaming with pride, and she blushed and rushed to cast another fire spell on a volley of arrows.

Undead still moved towards the slope, but they had stopped emerging from the tent now. Laith shuddered to think what travesties Dastrius must have committed to obtain such a large number. He looked to Grenwyn who nodded to him, their signal to make their move. Mynix moved to join them as well. They all looked each other in the eyes, steadied themselves, and set out.

They had scoped out a side trail that moved down the west side of the mountain slope. It was almost around the side of the slope, and concealed them quite well from view for most of the way. There was however, the matter of a few hundred yards of open land crawling with undead and live enemy combatants. Then there was the matter of finding their way through the veritable city of tents, locating Feryl, and keeping her from turning the entire placed to rubble, although Grenwyn thought that at least might be a bit fun.

On cue, as they were halfway down the slope, the dwarves up top began their retreat. It was a tactical retreat however, and in reality served as both a diversion to allow the small team to enter the camp without being noticed, and to lure the enemy into the series of devious traps that had been laid out in the tunnels. The enemies who still had brains must not have been using them, as they willingly followed the dwarves into their hole, and everyone knows a dwarf never looses a battle in their own home.

Mynix tensed, and she walked up to Laith, trying not be be obvious, she said quietly to him, while keeping her eyes forward, “Laith, I think we are being followed.” Laith nodded, and realizing she was not looking, said quietly,”I felt it too, but we may as well move as close to camp as we can before we blow out cover.” Mynix nodded and they continued on.

The dwarves reached the top of the first rise and Rock Head held back to set off the first in a long series of traps. When the enemy came into view, he tossed a bottle of liquid down amongst them. The bottle exploded when it hit the hard rock, and a thick fog filled the chamber. The fog also held two purposes, the first was to blind the enemy to the mass of rocks that was just then being set loose to tumble down on them, and it held a essence of confusion. While the confusion did not effect the undead, it did effect the living enemies with them.

Rockhead smiled seeing the dwarves had judged the amount of rocks to be just right. They were smaller boulders, able to travel downhill easily at a fast pace. While there were enough boulders to make passing the room difficult, it did not block the way, thus keeping the enemy moving forward into their traps, rather than out to find Grenwyn and company.

They heard a skid on rocks behind them, and Grenwyn, Mynix, and Laith all drew their weapons and turned at once. If they could dispatch the creature quickly enough they might not be discovered. Grenwyn leapt at it first, and it was all he could do not to start yelling when he saw it was Ambre who had followed them. “What foolishness are ye about girl!” he nearly bellowed,” I just find out ye’re alive, and now ye be throwin yer life in danger!” Ambre glared at him “and what about you, ye’ve been gone me whole life, and now that ye’ve found me you expect me to be sitting around like a nursery maid while yer out havin all the fun!” Laith and Mynix shared a look and could scarcely contain their laughter. “Bah, ye’ve gone and turned out like yer old man instead of yer mother, now there was a real lady who knew how to behave herself.” Grenwyn started. “And did that save her?” Ambre asked defiantly.

Grenwyn glared at her and Laith thought they might actually start yelling so he decided to diffuse the situation. “It is what it is, and there is nothing we can do about it now. The enemy has already entered the tunnels, she can’t follow behind or she will be at risk of fighting them or falling to a trap. Like it or not, with us is safer than back there.” Laith finished and the two dwarves glared at each other but continued on. Laith and Mynix shared a knowing smile, and clasped hands as they made their way closer to danger.

Feryl was just about to storm the main tent like a berserker when flames erupted all around her. She didn’t know where they came from, but she was thankful for the diversion. She watched as the foot soldiers moved forward, followed by the black cloaks, and then the undead. Their reek nearly made her gag, but she held it in so that no one would discover her hiding in the shadows.

She also knew not all of the black cloaks were accounted for, there were 24 that she had seen and only 18 of them had surged forward to join the fray. That left 6 for her to deal with, and their clerical magic would make that a challenge. She closed here eyes, took a deep breath, and was about to move in, when she jumped back as 4 more of the Shadow cloaks burst from the tent in response to a loud rumble within the mountain. “Two,” Feryl thought, “I can handle that.” And she crept into the tent with the silent skill of an assassin.

Once she was inside the tent, she could see that the front part of the tent was a large open area, likely used for large meetings, behind that was a smaller sectioned off area with a meeting table and chairs, and beyond that was a closed curtain, likely leading to Dastrius’ private chambers. Feryl began to feel a sense of déjà vu as she looked around, that quickly turned to yet another simmering anger as she recognized that many of the items had once decorated her own home. The table was one that her Mother had gave her, and used to sit in the dining room, the book shelves that lined her study, now held books of dark magic.

Not only had he destroyed everything she had once known and loved, he had taken the planning and forethought to rob her blind first! It was almost enough to send her running, heedless into the rear tent, and a few months ago she might have done just that. When Laith had begun working with her, while her skill was just short of awe inspiring, it was all attack and no defense. Her fighting was an expression of her anger, and was all striking out an opponent, not protecting oneself from an opponents strike.

Laith had taught her how to be a disciplined fighter, and this addition made her a very deadly opponent. With her newfound patience, she scanned the large room, she was about to move forward when she saw the flash of eyes on the left hand side of the room. The person did not appear to have seen her, but a noisy fight might bring help from the next room, or provide warning for Dastrius to flee. Feryl gritted her teeth and moved slowly and quietly across the room.

As she got closer, it appeared her opponent was reading a book. It seemed to her that she moved across the floor forever, each moment agonizing, and terrifying that she might make noise and destroy her plan. She made it to the table unnoticed, she planned to run a blade across the mans throat and kill him before he could make any sound.

Somehow, amidst her blinding rage, she looked at the man she was about to kill, and felt the wrongness of it. She knew she could not kill a man in cold blood, who she had not seen committing any violent acts (though in all likelihood he had) who was sitting there reading a book. She saw on the floor next to her a vase she remembered to be very heavy, and she picked it up and smashed the man in the temple, and he crumpled over his book, for all appearances dozing. While the man might not awake from the attack, he had a better chance than if he were to have a sword through his throat. Feryl could not risk leaving an enemy behind her this time.

The Forging Chapter 15: Mortality

Rock Head actually proved to be an ample tutor. While he was by no means even near the top of the wizards he was accustomed to working with, his comparably meager skill astounded Mynix. Despite his somber and serious nature, the admiration of a young pupil began to work wonders on the hermit. Rock Head taught Mynix many spells, and while they were no where near his most powerful (he was still a suspicious red wizard after all) they added to her growing arsenal and made her more prepared for the fight that was ahead of her. Rock Head actually gave Mynix hope too. She had heard stories of the red wizards and their evil ways, and supreme power, but seeing Rock Head change just during the time she had met him, she felt that she would not give in the the lust for power, she felt she could overcome it because she had friends to keep her grounded.

Grenwyn was the happiest he had been in a long time. While being back in his clan halls made him pine for his lost wife, he had gained the daughter he thought would never be returned to him. He spent much time with Morthwyn and his family, and was please his daughter grew up in such a happy home. He knew even had he stayed, his sorrow would have made Ambre's upbringing a lonely one. Grenwyn checked in on Mynix often as well, and was happy to see his adopted daughter growing and blossoming under the tutelage of the strange red wizard who chose to live among dwarves. "What a strange family I've got," Grenwyn would mutter to himself as he walked down the tunnel to get back to work.

Laith was the only one who was lonely and restless. He knew they were working towards reaching Feryl and allowing for their best chance of success, but he couldn't help feel he was abandoning her to a terrible fate. Under the stone, away from the trees and forests he loved, with his friends busying themselves with new found friends, and long lost children, he grew sad, and began to lose hope. Perhaps it is for the best he thought, perhaps she should be out there finding her own life, with her own kind. "Ye've been looking down lately," Grenwyn said to Laith as he walked into his workroom. "I am worried about Feryl, but I am also lonesome for the trees and sun." Laith said as he smiled weakly. "Bah, ye elves are all alike, a bunch of wee faeries dancing around yer precious trees," Grenwyn laughed, "But if ye love yer precious trees so much, I can show ye a back way out that leads into a small glade hidden in the mountains." Laith's eyes lit up, and his smile seemed genuine as he followed Grenwyn to freedom.

Grenwyn showed Laith to the glade, and said he could not tell him the password, but he would come in the morning to let him back in the tunnels. Laith readily agreed, and both felt sure he would be safe in such a remote location, and without Feryl. After Grenwyn secured the door, Laith sat down on the soft grass. He seemed to be in a wide, shallow valley completely encircled by stone. All around him there were cold stone mountains but the valley itself was filled with life. A small spring flowed through the middle, and old old trees grew throughout. He saw birds, but no animals to speak of, which was not unusual for so remote a location. Laith felt better than he had since venturing below the surface, and as he listened to the babble of the brook, and the whisper of the leaves in the breeze he slipped into reverie.

Laith was vaguely aware that his limbs felt heavy, and his mind began to feel fuzzy, he tried to stir from reverie, but could not. A voice called to him, soft but powerful. The voice seemed to come from the tree in front of him, and as had happened before, a beautiful woman began to step seemingly out of the tree. Her beauty made Laith's breath catch, and he felt a strong longing to be nearer to her. "Come back to pay your debt did you?" the Dryad purred and she strode to him on long strong legs the rich brown color of earth. She smelled of fresh soil and her greenish hair seemed sun dappled. She moved close to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, caught deeply in her charm spell. She melted against him and sighed as she breathed onto his neck and moved her lips to his. She pulled him into and embrace and he went along almost willingly. When passion began to stir strongly within him, he had a vision of Feryl and the Dryad's charm broke and he moved away from her.

"Why do you pine for her so?" pouted the Dryad, my beauty is superior, and we both shall live long lives." Laith looked away, and she giggled knowing she had hit on a point that he indeed had considered. "She has moved on from you," the Dryad said matter of factly, "Come with me to the stream bank and I will show you." Laith really knew better than to trust a Dryad, but she had been very helpful to them before. As Laith stared into the cool waters, the Dryad moved her hands over the surface as if opening a window. Feryl appeared dressed as a soldier of the Black Cloaks. She was in an alley with a dead man, and a very frightened girl. She held another man in the corner, and she was pressed against him in a very vulgar manner. The look in her eyes caused Laith to shudder. He had never seen such pure rage, nor had he seen such contempt. She said something to the man, but he could not hear what it was she said. The man began weeping and he threw down his sword, but Feryl moved forward and killed him. Laith could not believe what he had seen, how could the woman he loved have changed so? He thought to blame the Dryad for trying to hurt him, but when he looked at her he saw tears in her eyes, and shock at the heinous act.

"Enough," was all Laith could choke out and he splashed his hands in the water, breaking the image. "I'm so sorry," the Dryad said, and Laith could see legitimate concern in her face. She reached for him, and he fell into her embrace. Her cried on her shoulder and she held him, she wiped his tears away, and kissed him, and this time he let himself fall fully into her spell. His joining with her was unlike anything he had ever experienced. His mouth tasted of the earth, and he could feel and sense every life force in the glade. He felt at one with the trees, and he could hear their whispers but not understand them. The Dryad giggled as her gazed at her in wonder. She buried him in exuberant kisses, and Laith thought he could feel each beam of moonlight on his skin. As they lay there together, he drifted into sleep just as a human, and the Dryad giggled and slipped back into the tree, her interest in him ended.

Laith woke to a gruff "Ahem," as Grenwyn blocked the sun that shone on him. His mind took a moment to register, and then he realized he had no clothes on. "Ye reek of soil boy, I hope ye haven't been kissing the Dryads again, I wouldn't want to be you if Feryl ever found out, have ye seen her with a sword?" Those words hit Laith like a hammer, and all the memories of the prior evening came rushing to his head. He gagged as he remembered the remorseless killing of the weaponless man. "Come now, she won't be all that mad," Grenywn joked, but when he saw the look on Laith's face, he knew something was wrong. "What do ye know elf?" Grenwyn asked as he threw Laith's pants to him and sat down on a rock.

Feryl awoke the next morning in a cold sweat. She should have felt remorse, but she felt only the rage that had driven her actions, and continued to drive her with singular purpose. "It must be today," she thought to herself, knowing that if she continued the way she was, she would loose herself entirely, if she had not already. She felt a sadness she could not explain, almost as if she were feeling the remorse of someone else, and she set out to end her torment.

“So the rage had taken her then,” Grenwyn said, “we’d best hurry up with the preparations and get to her.” Laith nodded, but did not look convinced. In fact, he was not convinced, and he feared that Feryl had been lost already.