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.

The Forging Chapter 14: The Dark of Night

Feryl reached Lithaear 5 days after the fight at the campsite. She had not given one thought to her friends, her mind and heart were focused on one thing and one thing alone, vengeance. She finally realized when she reached Dastrius' stronghold, that while her anger and brute force might suffice, she would have to use intellect to be sure to accomplish her goal. That night she set about making her plans. She stayed awake long into the night, observing and thinking, and her thoughts strayed not once to the friends far away whose thought that night often flickered to her.

In the hours before dawn, she slipped past the guards and into the guardhouse to adopt a more appropriate costume of the dark black robes worn by everyone in the compound. She bound her red hair back, and used charcoal dust to darken it, then she lined her eyes in kohl, as the other women there had, and stained her lips dark red with berries, her face, she powdered white. This was the look all the women of Lithaer wore, and the result reminded her of the dark goddess they worshiped.

The city itself did not seem to follow any certain order, so it was not hard for her to blend in. There were no rules of conduct that seemed apparent, so she did not have to worry about breaking them. She robbed a few of her fellows, and used their gold to stay in one of the inns. She slept with her sword drawn, and tried to learn as much as she could of the place and its master in the tavern below.

Meanwhile back in Devil’s Deep, Laith, Grenwyn, and Mynix were brought before the council to plead their case for help and freedom. The dwarves knew of Dastrius and told the travelers of his hidden compound in Lithaear, in their mountains and to the west. While they had not had direct contact with him so far, he posed a threat to some of their secret trade routes. Though not quick to war, the dwarves were very good at it, and while not wishing to commit a large force, they did want to help see the possible threat erased. It was settled that a team of 20 fighters would be sent, among them would be the best with sword, and bow, as well as the devious trap team.

The goal would be to create a diversion by leading Dastrius’ forces into the tunnels below, but well outside of Devil’s Deep. The dwarves were masters at fighting in tunnels, and setting traps to decimate an invading enemy. With the battle underway, Grenwyn, Mynix, and Laith would make their way to the enemy compound and try to locate Feryl. Ambre listened politely, not saying a word and fully intending on being a part of the raiding party.

Feryl quickly found that the only way to infiltrate the inner section of the camp where Dastrius was located was to join the guard. She simply killed one of the current guards and took her place, and no one seemed to notice or care. She drilled each day and her skill with a blade won her notice from her superiors and she quickly moved up in rank. Feryl's goal was to make it to the inner guard, but she did not want to move up so quickly as to draw too much attention to herself.

Feryl toiled the days away, embracing the life of the soldier, continuing to hone her deadly skills, and picturing each swing of her blade as the one that would kill Dastrius. She thought of Grenwyn, Mynix, and Laith on occasion, wondering of their fates, but afraid to learn the truth. She knew that if they were alive, they would not have let her be taken away, they would have found her, and saved her from herself.

She knew she had become a monster, she killed now without mercy or remorse. Rage was all that drove her. Her past, everything and everyone she had ever loved had been destroyed by Dastrius seemingly on his whim. Her face burned as she thought of what a fool she had been, and the shame made her want to kill. She slipped out into the night, seeking a target, and it was not long before she found one. A young girl was cornered in the alley by a 2 of her fellow soldiers. They were drunk and their intentions were quite clear.

Feryl did not even think twice, nor did she give them time to draw their blades. Their only warning was the hiss of her sword as it left the scabbard, they turned and put their hands up and Feryl had cut one of them down before the other had registered what happened. He was quick and drew his blade and just barely managed to parry her savage chop. She followed quickly, and pressed him into the corner of the alley opposite the young girl who stood there pale and staring. She batted his weapon out of his hand, and leaned against him. She could smell the stink of his sweat. “Not so fun when it happens to you, is it?” she asked as she used her sword to sever his belt, and drop his pants. She cut the front of his shirt open and leaned heavily against him, her breath hot on his neck. She kicked him in the stomach and tossed his sword back to him. “Defend yourself,” she said and toyed with him some more.

His breathing came now in heavy gasps, and tears leaked from his eyes, he threw down his sword and begged for mercy. “How much mercy would you have shown the girl?” she asked, her voice a low growl, “How much mercy do you show the people whose money you take, and whose towns you destroy?” Feryl pierced his head at the base of the neck and his death was almost instantaneous. “A quick death is more mercy then you deserve,” she said.

Feryl turned on the girl then. She was terrified and sobbing. “How came you to be here?” Feryl asked with her sword drawing a thin line of blood across the girls throat, “Are you worthy of mercy?” The girl could only cry. “What are you doing here!” Feryl demanded. “He..he told me he loved me..”she began. Feryl felt rage surge anew, but pity also blossomed in her heart, and she grabbed the girl by the hand, leading her to the edge of town and giving her a few silvers to see her on her way. The girl nodded tearfully and ran, still frightened by what she had witnessed. “One must be careful not to become one…” Feryl whispered to herself as she found her way back to her tent and collapsed into a fitful nights sleep.

The Forging Chapter 13: A Rocky Start

Feryl ran for hours, driven on by her rage. She did not know why she had been left alone for dead once again. She did not know of Mynix’s brave attack, or that her rescuer had lain near death just a few yards away from her, and she did not know that Datrius had taken flight because he was gravely injured, and based on Feryl’s present mood, Mynix was lucky she had not killed Dastrius, and robbed Feryl of the one thing she now wanted, vengeance.

It had been around noon when Feryl had awakened and she ran across the flat terrain with no regard for caution or stealth. “Let them come” she thought to herself, she felt like her rage was enough to slay a red dragon should she need to. She had the one thing that had eluded her all these months, that had kept the rage at bay, a face and a name, and now she would fight her way to him, and kill him if she had to face all the hordes of the nine hells to get to him. At sunset, she finally could run no longer, and laid down behind a rock to sleep, at about the same time that Grenwyn and Laith were discovering Mynix.

As they stopped for a rest, already exhausted from their previous flight, and now the added load of carrying Mynix over the harsh dry terrain, they began to worry that Mynix would not survive the long journey. “I don’t think she is going to make it all the way to Taylia’s,” Laith said as he looked down at Mynix’s pale skin and watched her shallow breathing. “Aye, I had hoped we could make it there, as I know her healing skills be far beyond what my kin can offer, if they offer.” Grenwyn said. “It may be our only chance,” Laith offered, “I know, its just…I haven’t been there in 20 years, since I lost me wife and they couldn’t wake me girl.” Grenwyn trailed off. “I know what it is like to face a self imposed exile,” Laith explained.

Laith then told Grenwyn his own painful story of how he had led the pack of werewolves to his own village, and of the death of his sister’s husband. “Aye, I know it is what I must be doin,” Grenwyn grumbled, “but knowin doesn’t make the doin any easier.” Laith laughed a little and clapped him on the back. They both rose and heaved Mynix onto their back as they began the trek to Devil’s Deep.

Feryl awoke and the cold around her was so deep she could scarcely draw breath. She opened her eyes and saw some manner of wraith floating on the other side of the rock she had slept under. Feryl was thankful that the sword Grenwyn had made for her was a combination of mithril and silver, because she knew only silver or enchanted weapons could harm an incorporeal being. She raised herself slowly to her feet and winced at the pain in her stiff and tired muscles. As if the wraith could sense the motion, it flew at her, she jumped onto the rock and dodged aside, but where the wraith had touched her on her lower left leg, her skin felt cold and lifeless.

She tried her best to balance on her right foot, and delivered a downward thrust. She hit the creature and after the initial sensation of swiping at air, felt resistance and her blade tore through the creature, but it did not dissipate. The feeling began to return to her left leg, so she hopped down from the rock and thrust forward with her sword, piercing the front of the creature. There was not a visible wound, but the creature seemed somewhat less substantial.

“Dastrius said you would be a tough one,” it wheezed in a strange echoing voice. “Mentioning that name was the last mistake you will ever make.” Feryl said as her rage threw her into a flurry of blows. She was heedless of any wounds affecting her, and she struck right, reversed grip and used the momentum to drive home a strike from the left.

She charged forward swinging her sword madly left, right, left right, and with each blow, the creature seemed less substantial. The wraith was shrieking now, but Feryl could not hear it, all she could hear was her own blood rushing behind her ears. She struck the thing several more times before she even realized it had dissipated into a pile of goo on the ground. Still enraged with the heat of battle, Feryl took off running again, and if any more of Datrius’ servants were waiting out there for her, they avoided her and she found no more battles as she ran through the long dark, night.

Grenwyn and Laith trudged over the rocky flatlands until they came to a large dark outcropping of rock. Despite the red color to the sands and soil that surrounded them, the rocks were dark grey, and hard, and very old. They gently laid Mynix on the ground. Laith wiped the perspiration from her fevered head, and used the last of the water from his canteen to wet her dried lips and mouth as Grenwyn went to search for the door.

Grenwyn had not been there in over twenty years, and the door was of dwarven craftsmanship, so he knew it would be difficult to find. But he had the eye of a dwarf craftsman himself, and his own grandfather had built the door, so as soon as the light of the moon shone through the clouds enough to give him illumination, he saw the seams and pressed in on the door while speaking a word that sounded like boulders falling down a mountainside. Grenwyn looked to Laith, “Ye can be leaving if ye want to, I haven’t been here in 20 years, and my kin and yer kin have never been much fer likin each other. If they don’t trust ye on my word, ye might be killed or imprisoned here.” “I’ll take my chances,” Laith said, “besides, it might be nice not to be asked to leave for once.” Grenywn chortled at that and they gently lifted Mynix and began the downward trek to Devil’s Deep.

Grenwyn was gifted, as was all his race, with the ability to see in the dark. Laith used a pendant Taylia had gifted him in order to see in the dark as well, so there was no need to use a torch which would draw unwanted attention to themselves. They crept down the dark passageways, and the only warning sign they had to signal they were no longer alone was the click of a crossbow as a bolt fired not more than a few feet in front of their faces. “Halt and name yourselves or ye’ll be dyin where yer standin.” Said a gravelly voice in the darkness. Laith was amazed at the stealth dwarves could muster in their own environments, because above ground they sounded as lithe as the boulders they sprang from.

“Ye be lookin at one of yer own kin, Grenwyn Shalesplitter, son of Gorwyn, son of Borwyn who made the door out yonder. This be my traveling companion, and loyal friend Laith and though he be of the pointy eared variety, he ain’t all that bad. I also be carrying a gravely wounded companion, a human girl by the name of Mynix, she’s sure to be dyin if we don’t get her some help soon” A few chuckles resounded at the joke about the elf, and then a torch was lit and a hard looking dwarf stepped forward. He didn’t say a word, but he looked Grenwyn up and down, “Aye, it be him,” he said, and Grenwn clasped the dwarf on the shoulder, "ah Morwyth, it be good to see ye, but how..” he began, "never mind, this girl here is me first order of business, there will be time for questions after." he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as the implications of Morwyth's appearance became more clear to him. Morwyth suggested they move on to get help for the girl. He said they could all pass for the time being, but the council would have to approve whether or not the elf and the girl could leave again. So it was that Mynix was taken to recieve healing from a wizard, who the dwarves humorously regarded as “Rock Head” with the watchful eye of Laith standing by. Grenwyn followed Morwyth up into the housing tunnels to hear his tale in full.

“It was the year ye left,” Morwyth began, “we captured one of them red wizards snooping around the outside, we brought him here and told him we’d set him free if he proved himself of value to us.” Morwyth how the wizard had been held here for 2 years, set to work only on the task of setting right those who had been petrified. When he woke them, they were just as they had been before they were frozen. “And Onyx..?” Grenwyn dared to ask. “I’m sorry my friend, since she was shattered, there was nothing he could do.” Grenwyn felt all the pain rush back into him again, and he was about to give up any hope of happiness when Morwyth broke in, “But we saved Ambre,” Grenwyn’s eyes lit up, “Ye have my baby girl?” He asked. “She’s not much of a baby anymore,” Morwyth said, “I’ve been raisin her as me own fer ya, and she’s more of a handful that you and yer wife, may the rocks preserve her, were put together.” Grenwyn beamed with pride

Luckily for Mynix, that same red wizard had decided he did not want to leave when he had found the cure. Over the 2 years he had spent with the dwarves, he had become fascinated by their ways, and obsessed with the magical properties inherent in the types of rocks. Being a red wizard, he had been schooled in every area of the magical sciences and that included healing. The wizard was nearly as short and round as the dwarves he stood with, and his black beard was nearly as thick. His dark eyes darted nervously behind a pair of glasses enchanted to help him see in the dark. While he wasn’t a particularly kind man, he was not dark of humor and heart like most of the red wizards. He simply wanted to work on and research magic, and to be left alone to do it. While he had enjoyed the level of education afforded him by becoming a red, he did not like the tasks they always set him about, which included how he got in the bind with the dwarves in the first place. When he found that surface magic was blocked by the dark rock, he was happy to stay in hiding and work on his experiments. In exchange for room and board, the wizard made potions for them to change the properties of the rocks, and gave healing to those who were injured when they bothered him for it.

Grenwyn followed Morwyth up into the housing tunnels to meet his long lost daughter. When he entered Morwyth’s home, he saw her standing there, and couldn’t help but chuckle. She was a beautiful as her mother, but with the flame red hair of her father. Her beard was still coming in and was neatly combed into a jeweled band at the base of her chin. Around her neck she wore the sapphire that had brought such ill luck to their family, but its twinkle paled indeed in comparison to the fire in her eyes.

“So, me wanderin father finally decides to come home,” she said angrily when she turned to see him. It was not the welcome Grenwyn had expected but he couldn’t blame the girl for being angry. She had lost her mother, and had awoken after being stuck in stone for several years to find her Father had abandoned her. “well, at least I know where me hair came from,” Ambre said to break the silence, “They all said me Mum’s hair matched the stone she was named for.” Grenwyn didn’t know what to do, so he just nodded. “Well the least ye can be doin is givin me a hug an telling me its good to be seein me,” she said indignantly, Grenwyn’s eyes welled and he wrapped his girl is a hug so big he swept her off her feet like she was still the tiny baby he had left behind.

Mynix slept for nearly 4 days before she finally began to awaken. Her dreams had taken her to dark places, but she could not remember them. She awoke in a dimly lit stone room, and saw Laith taking reverie in a chair across the room. She looked to the other side to see a fat little man in scarlet robes pouring over a tome. She wanted to speak, to call out to her friend, but she could not find the strength so she settled back to trying to piece together what had happened to her and where she was now. Laith did not seem to be alert or fearful, so they must be somewhere safe. Judging by the look of things, she knew she must be underground, but the man she was with, while he looked close to it, was definitely not a dwarf.

To help sort things out, she let her thoughts drift further back. She remembered awakening by the campfire, and the fight with the undead when Feryl was carried away. She remembered following Feryl and her brief fight with the sorcerer who had injured her. A bright light flashed before her eyes and she jerked upright into a defensive position only the see the stout little wizard jump back and shield his face. She lowered her guard as things came back to her, and she saw Laith smiling as he crossed the room to embrace her. A small part of her wished she would see in that expression the same thing she saw in it when he looked at Feryl, but she knew it was not to be and set that feeling aside.

Mynix relayed all the information she had about Feryl and her attacker. From the description she gave, Laith was able to confirm his fears, Feryl’s attacker her ex-lover, Dastrius. Laith was saddened to know that Mynix had no idea where Feryl had gone to, but the injury Mynix had given him and his flight left hope in his heart that she was still alive. Laith however, did not know how hard Feryl’s heart had become, and how consumed in vengeance she was at that very moment, and that though alive, she may be lost to them forever.